Stained

By Ger Conlan

It has been almost a year since Jess Darrows, alchemist witch and ink-making marvel, went from successful business woman to pariah of the Otherworld community when Bossman, a high profile client, dies while being tattooed with her ink. She’s being framed, but nobody’s listening. Forced by the local authorities to pay exorbitant restitution to two community leaders, every day becomes a battle to stay off the streets.
Zeke owns and runs The Yards - a shifter territory in the town of Bayside - and is one of the people responsible for Jess’ impoverishment. He hires Jess to help his investigation into Bossman’s death, but soon the body count starts rising and all fingers point to her as the guilty party. As he fights to protect his people, Jess fights to prove her innocence all the while they’re fighting their feelings for each other.
With fear tearing a community apart and an execution looming on the horizon, all Hell is breaking loose in Bayside.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ger Conlan
• Release date: Sep 26, 2020
• ISBN: 9780995988842

Book preview

Stained

By

Ger Conlan

Copyright 2020 Ger Conlan

https://twitter.com/gerconln

Second Edition (updated for formatting corrections December 2020)

License Notes

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Cover and illustration by Zheng Han Lai

https://www.instagram.com/77tsutsu/

Chapter 1

I stood at the entrance to the dimly lit lane which smelled rife with days-old rotting garbage and a variety of other malodorous human and shifter by-products. Broken drug paraphernalia and used condoms littered the crumbling, wet asphalt. Navigating the filth, it wasn’t difficult to assume waste disposal collection on this side of town was iffy at best. I covered my nose with the sleeve of my leather jacket. If the place reeked this badly in winter, Goddess only knew what it was like when Bayside’s frequent heat waves kicked in.

A tin can clattered noisily across the ground startling me.

I could be flayed alive here!

Right now, my roach infested studio was looking like the Taj Mahal and I was seriously considering doing a runner back there, but I valued my limbs, so I scraped together what little gumption I had left and inched further down the shadowy path. Clutching the small cubed box a little tighter against me, I cursed his insistence that we meet here. Why couldn’t he have gone to the back of the industrial park like all the other times?

The red glowing neon sign of InkLing’s Tattoo parlour came into view. Wasting no time, I pulled the vial of green liquid from my coat pocket and downed it in one gulp.

Bleuch!

The stuff tasted of mouldy sock soup! But you get what you pay for, and I’d gotten the cheapest brand. The effect of the spell caused a wave of energy to undulate over my body, swiftly erasing my small frame and black hair to that of a tall, curvy blonde. There was quite a list of people whose bad side I was on, so modifying my appearance was a must. It wouldn’t hide my scent though. That kind of power came at a price I couldn’t afford.

After surreptitiously checking the area to ensure a potential murderer, or flayer, wasn’t lurking behind one of the dumpsters, I headed to the parlour’s back door. I’d ten minutes before the spell wore off. Give or take.

Stepping inside, I was immediately hit with the unique blend of ethanol and polished leather, a welcome relief from the alley. The compact waiting room displayed impressive wall art and professional post-tattoo photographs. Given that he had no employees, I was surprised at how clean and organized he kept the place. The symmetrical alignment of most items denoted a penchant toward OCD.

Moving toward the main room, I heard the distinct whirr of a tattoo gun, while soft rock emanated from unseen speakers. The exceptionally talented tattooist wasn’t done with his last client, which meant he wouldn’t be happy to see me. Well, tough turtles. I wasn’t hanging around here a second longer than necessary. And desperation was the only reason I was here to begin with.

Hi there! I called out.

Fffuck off! We’re closed! The cockney accent was unmistakable and, judging from the amount of f’s pronounced, so was the ire. He didn’t raise his head from the guy’s buttock that was being permanently decorated with a Japanese style Koi fish. The colour and art were breathtaking. The buttock wasn’t bad either, a nice taut mound attached to a fine muscular leg. The client’s scent was distinctly shifter, a wolf, if I was a betting woman.

Ling, the tattooist, a second generation Chinese man who left London to escape his father’s disappointment in his career choice, wore his signature white t-shirt and dark jeans. He was tattooed everywhere except his neck and face. He kept his head bald and heavily tattooed. The gun stopped whirring and I came face to face with a deep scowl.

It’s only me, baby, I smiled flirtatiously. You know, as planned.

I placed the box on the work station opposite him then nonchalantly turned to a mirror and patted the magically created illusion of blond curls. Pulling a tube of gloss from the pocket of my short leather jacket, I raised it to my lips and dabbed on a thin layer then made a girly pout that had me rolling my eyes inwardly. Girly, I was not. In fact the gloss was a sample I’d gotten a year earlier but never used. I flashed another flirty smile at Ling. Meet you in the back?

The handsome shifter twisted around to get a better look. His eyebrows rose and a silent exchange passed between him and Ling that said ‘lucky fucker.’ With a broad grin he gave Ling his blessing. Hey, go for it, man. I don’t mind the interruption.

Be back in two, Ling grumbled. He looked at me then the box before speaking to his client. And don’t fucking move.

I picked up the box and eyed the shifter with a coy smile. If he was asked to describe me, he’d have said I was a five-foot, eight inch, size-fourteen woman, with blond hair and a killer rack. Time was ticking on the glamour spell and I planned on being out of here in a few minutes, after being handsomely paid. I followed Ling into the cramped, but expertly organized office behind the reception area.

Show me. Ling said gruffly, and without preamble, once we were in the confines of the office.

I placed the tin cube on the desk as we stood facing each other. Nice digs, I chimed looking around the place. Pity about the location. What was wrong with your old place anyway?

Too many customers.

Poor you, I pouted teasingly. How could that happen? I mean all you did was open a business, right?

Show me what you’re flogging, for fuck’s sake.

Pretending to feel excitement, I wiggled my fingers with glee hoping to mimic the sales pitch bullshit from those infomercials. They’re a first and not available in any store. I turned to him with a faux frown. That means nobody else will have them except you.

His hand rotated mid air in a ‘get on with it’ gesture. Just open the fucking thing.

Hiding my contentment at having ruffled his feathers, I lifted the lid slowly then smiled. Neat rows of ink bottles lined the metal case. The packaging was minimalist yet elegant, but the content was one hundred percent magical and all of my own making. He threw me a nonchalant look, but it failed to conceal the glimmer of interest. I kept my expression neutral and reigned in my excitement. If this paid off, I’d be able to get ahead and be in the clear for two whole months. That kind of financial breathing room would even allow me to replenish my almost non-existent stock.

What’s so different about this lot then, eh? I’ve still got six left from the last batch. I don’t need no fuckin’ more, yeah?

He was lying. There was only one bottle left. He kept it in a safe in the floor beneath us. What if I told you every single one of these bottles has Hellfire in it?

His eyebrows hit his hairline. Hellfire? You sure?

Positive.

No fucking way! Even the coloured ink?

Even the coloured ink. I closed the lid to show I could take this all away in a heartbeat. Hellfire was almost impossible to create, extremely volatile, but once harnessed, rendered a tattoo with a magical power second to none. All tattoos etched into a shifter’s skin were bespelled, but, as the ink would fade over time, the power of the spell would also weaken. A tattoo made with Hellfire was going with the bearer to their grave, just as bright and powerful as the day it was inked.

How’d you manage to stabilize Hellfire in the coloured ones?

Need any help back there? The client called out.

I was glad for the interruption. There was no way I was giving Ling a tutorial on how I made my special ink. An alchemist witch would rather die than share her secret. Look, if you’re not interested, I understand -

Anyone up for a three-way? The shifter chuckled.

Shut the fuck up! Ling hollered back. He was renowned for his complete lack of customer service, but nobody seemed to care. His talent was legendary, so people put up with whatever he doled out just to have him tattoo them. He was also a cheapskate and refused to work in a higher rent area. Again, people didn’t care. They’d walk over hot coals for his art. So, how much?

They’re a steal at a grand a bottle.

Fffuck off!

He meant it as a reaction to the sticker shock and not for me to leave, but I decided to play hardball. No problem. I closed the lid and turned the clasp to lock the box when he raised his palms in the universal sign of ‘hold your horses.’

Look, Jess, he lowered his voice to a whisper, I’m all for buying this, but you ‘n me, we’re not even supposed to be in the same room never mind trading. If the Magistrar’s office, Cato or Zeke found out, we’d be fucked, royally. Know what I mean, yeah?

I didn’t need reminding of the risks involved in coming down here. The Magistrar’s office was our local law enforcement, a heavily flawed governing body if you asked me. So, yeah, I knew exactly what I was doing, and I knew exactly why I had to swallow a modifier potion and sell my own ink on the sly like some damn drug pusher: survival.

Hiding my ire, I spoke in a sharper tone. Final chance, Ling. You want to deal or not?

Sure, but I’ll give you five hundred a bottle, no more.

Fuck off. This time it was meant as a dismissal.

He glanced toward the door. What the hell do you expect? You know what everyone thinks of your ink.

Yeah, well everyone can bite me. Every day I was paying what I supposedly ‘owed’ to society and that was not an easy pill to swallow given how things used to be.

Look, all’s I’m saying is, you can’t come in here and expect to get top dollar for your wares when your last client ended up six feet under! He glanced toward the door again and lowered his voice even more. Right now, I not only have to hide the fact that I’m buying your ink, I have to re-label it, all of it, because you’re as popular as a fucking bubonic plague victim.

Doesn’t stop you charging triple the price when you use my ink.

He had the decency to look mollified. Jess, hand to my heart, I will be the first to pay you more than a grand a bottle when I don’t have to hide who supplied my ink. I mean you’re a genius when it comes to making this stuff, but you’re also a pariah in the community, so I’m sorry, five hundred is all I can offer.

Seven a bottle or I’m walking.

He hesitated a long moment before sighing loudly. Done, but don’t say I never helped you out.

I’ll remember this, Ling, I replied sarcastically, hand to heart.

From the exterior, Snake Bite tavern looked as inviting as a per-hour-motel. The brickwork was crumbling in many places making me wonder how all the cracked fenestration managed to stay in place. The roof had lost many a shingle and the sidewalk had disintegrated to an almost granular level. Maybe back in its hey-day, the place had some appeal, but maintenance and general upkeep seemed so low on the priority list, as to be non-existent. The corner style entrance was guarded by a massive, burly and, admittedly, intimidating bouncer who seemed to have Troll ancestry lodged somewhere in his DNA.

Look at you all dolled up, I cooed. The man looked and smelled like he emerged from one of Ling’s dumpsters. In truth, he had cleaned up because I wasn’t puking on the sidewalk. His natural odour was similar to necrotic tissue. He gave me a once over before grunting to indicate I was allowed inside.

After a two mile walk from InkLing’s Tattoo parlour, I couldn’t help but welcome the bars’ warmth. It wasn’t generated by any kind of central heating, but by the hot-blooded, over-sized shifters crowded around the many bar tables and stools. Mounds of greasy food were being served tonight and my belly rumbled with hunger.

When free-falling toward the poverty line, the first things to go by the wayside were non-essentials, like a car, a bicycle and regular meals.

Mixed in with the hot grease was the odour of beer; strong smoke deriving from several illegal herbs and the distinct scent of two Alpha shifters permeated the expansive room.

Wanna a Zolta? A Goth-like Nymph whispered as she floated by. She looked like she’d taken a wrong turn on her way to Thunder Road. I could only presume the Nymph Council ex-communicated her from the Ether for testing too much of the product she was pushing.

I’ll pass, thanks.

Your loss. Her lifeless regard confirmed my suspicions as she moved on to another prospect.

The tavern was located in an area known as Fern View Square. But don’t let the name fool you, there wasn’t a fern in sight and the only real view you’d get was of shady deals going down amongst chalked body outlines on the black top. Fixed between two shifter communities, known as The Yards and Bordertown, it was the seedy Switzerland of the Otherworld community – a sort of no man’s land where residents of both communities could come together for whatever deal or exchange needed to be made. Everything was for sale in Fern View, from Fairy bile to empath emotions. There was also a whole spectrum of entertainment offered to those whose tastes ran the gamut of freaky to from-Hell. On most days Fern View’s morgue was back-logged. The murder count was high, but not arrests. If the Magistrar’s office didn’t get involved, the magical community resolved things in an eye-for-an-eye kind of way.

Yeah, eye gouging was common.

I got several disgusted glares as I squeezed my way through the crowd. Ling was right, I was a pariah in the community, and the only reason I wasn’t six feet under for causing Bossman’s untimely demise was, someone put out word on the street I was not to be executed. Not sure who called that shot, but I’d learned about it while getting my arm broken in this very establishment six months earlier. After hearing the bones in my arm snap, I was told I was lucky I couldn’t be murdered because there were many itching to lay claim to my death. Given the shit storm I was living, I couldn’t say I considered myself ‘lucky.’

At the back of the room a worn, wooden bar stretched from wall to wall. Its sole server was the brother of the bouncer guarding the door. Despite the menacing scowl staring me down, I preferred him to Vivian, Snake Bite’s owner. She was a viper I did not want to cross.

Pay, he grunted while slapping an unwashed meaty palm face up on the counter. His lips were covered by such a copious amount of facial hair, I couldn’t tell if his lips had actually moved or not. He was Vivian’s bitch and had no problem inflicting all sorts of pain on someone, at her behest.

Paws, you could be a ventriloquist, I smiled. I’d sign you up with the next circus to roll on through here. You’d be a hit for sure.

His jaw clenched. I told you before, it’s Paz not Paws.

I giggled inwardly knowing I was riling him up and not caring anyway. A broke, almost-destitute girl had to get her laughs where she could. Got it, Paws. He growled unhappily as I smiled even wider. Now, I’ll have two saggy patties please and a Blue Skyz on ice. I held up a finger. Hang on, make that a double. I’ve had a hard day.

Pay.

You’re quite the orator, I winked. "How do you do it?"

Pay. He ground his teeth so hard I wouldn’t have been surprised if he spat them out as dust. Clearly, my charm wasn’t hitting the mark.

If you insist. Reaching inside my blouse, I extracted three quarters of Ling’s money from my left bra cup. The troll’s right eye-brow rose up high and stayed there as I slid money I desperately needed across the dirty counter. He nodded then wiped the wad under his nose and grinned with a heated gaze before stuffing the bundle into a pouch hanging beneath his rotund belly. What? Not going to count it?

Four hundred more than last month. I didn’t know how he knew that without actually counting it, but didn’t pursue it. He’ll get it tonight.

You do that, Paws. From me to Cato, with love, I chirped sarcastically with a fake smile. Goddess knows he needs to add it to his billions.

Best you not let him hear you, the Troll warned.

Bordertown was run by the crime lord, Cato. He was the newly appointed ‘Lord’ because he was replacing Bossman, who was purportedly murdered while being tattooed. I was not only in the room at the time of his death, I supplied the ink. Cato certainly didn’t need the contents of my bra cup; he drew astronomical profits from extortion, drug distribution, human-trafficking and magical weapons dealing.

I slapped a bill on the counter. I guess I’ll have that drink, now.

He quickly poured the seventy percent proof potion and, with a surprisingly delicate flourish, placed it in front of me with a dirty coaster underneath. The patties arrived seconds later. The two combined made up the size of a small dumpling, but the contents created a feeling of being full. I downed my first meal of the day in less than three seconds flat. The magic worked instantly, carrying away the pangs of hunger. Wrapping my fingers around the Blue Skyz potion, I knocked it back and tried not to shudder as the powerful ingredients rendered the punch I’d paid for. With a flirty wave and a solid buzz zinging through me, I gave a two finger salute to Paws then headed out into the frigid night air and on to my next stop.

The blizzard that started an hour into my trek made me want to turn back and head home, but it wasn’t like I could defer payment until another time. A deadline was literal in the Supernatural community. My toes were positively frozen when I reached Jimmy’s Bar in The Yards. The walk from Snake Bite had been a long one fraught with a few unpleasant encounters, one of which involved spittle being hurled at me. As the woman who, allegedly, took down a notorious and vicious crime lord, you’d think there’d be some measure of gratitude.

The bouncer guarding the entrance to Jimmy’s was just as big, but far more affable than his counter-part at Snake Bite and even opened the door as I passed inside. Thanks Mel.

Jess, he nodded with a flirty smile.

The Yards was a vibrant, commercially thriving community run by a man known as Zeke. Hailed as a shepherd to his flock, the imposing male - whose species had never been identified – was fiercely protective of his people. But to live in The Yards you had to pass some insane challenges and then swear fealty to him through magical branding, no less. Nobody got to stay in The Yards without wearing His Zekenesses crest.

After a short trek through the throng, I shook the snow off my coat and scarf and hung them on the back of the stool at the bustling bar. Jimmy, a mocha-skinned male Jinn with fabulously coiffed black hair, who wore nothing but elaborate maxi cocktail dresses and expertly applied make up and fake boobs, coolly placed a double shot of Blue Skyz in front of me. Tonight her dress was the colour of fire opal, covered in thousands of sequins that imitated flames hugging her voluptuous form.

Damn, you’re on fire tonight, Jimmy.

And you, Peaches, is like ice. Now drink on up and thaw out.

I raised the glass in the air before downing the contents in one oesophagus-burning gulp.

Mmmhhmm, she mused then put the empty glass under the counter. Now let’s get the nasty-nasty outta the way so we can chat.

From my initial visit, where I’d handed over the first of many payments, Jimmy had been warm, fun and a friend. She’d always provided food and drink and made time to chat. Despite the tough situation I found myself in, I looked forward to this time with the drag queen Jinn.

Sure, I pulled the remaining money from my right bra cup and slid it across the counter. Jimmy’s nose turned up in disgust and an expertly manicured hand with bright purple, four inch acrylic nails pinched the air in front of my face.

You expect me to handle your sweaty titty money?

Jimmy was a diva to the core. Well, yeah. It’s the only way I could keep it safe.

Safe, but not san-it-arrry.

Stop being so fussy and take it, I teased. Paws at Snake Bite smelled it and got all horny.

When Jimmy laughed, her eyes closed, her fake eye-lashes caressed her blush-covered cheek bones and her hand pressed against her fake bosom. She may have been a six foot man, but she was more feminine than most women. Oh, I bets he did ‘cause he hasn’t seen a titty since his mama stopped feedin’ him.

Chuckling at her witty remark, I extracted a fairly fresh Kleenex from my pocket and wrapped it around the wad. There, that better?

Not really. Jimmy stared from beneath dark lashes, bounced the bundle up and down in her palm then frowned at me. You’s short, Squirt.

Hey, I was born that way.

Her hand fisted a narrow hip. You’s short on the money, honey. She shook her head despondently then fixed me another Blue Skyz - a single this time. That there’s a problem and you know it.

I nodded my thanks then knocked back the drink. After another sizeable shudder, I placed the glass on the counter and said, check’s in the mail.

She leaned in closer lowering her voice. He’s gonna catch on that you’re not making full payments.

"Well, He can file a complaint with my bank manager."

You don’t got no bank, much less a manager, Jimmy replied with a sassy frown.

She wasn’t wrong. There were a lot of things I didn’t have any more, but I hid the anxiety and sheer terror at what I’d lost and my extremely bleak future. Hey, C’est la vie! A wave of dizziness had me swaying on my seat for a brief moment and I realized that having a couple of powerful drinks on an almost empty stomach was a bad idea.

Jimmy gave me one of her penetrating stares. You don’t look so good, Peaches. Have you even eaten today?

I’m fine. Just can’t handle my liquor like I used to. Think I’d better head on home.

You don’t have to. Stay here and I’ll fix you up my six-spiced Settlers Pie.

Thanks, but I’d better head out. I got off the stool not looking forward to the long walk back to my frigid apartment. Heating was a luxury I could no longer afford. Rent was another, but I’d been dodging the landlord for a few weeks now. I’d been hoping to pay what I owed in back rent, but with Ling paying me less than I’d expected, I’d have to try and get caught up next week, hopefully.

I’ll see you soon. I’ll have the right amount next time. I could hear the lie in those words as sure as Jimmy did.

Jess? Jimmy caught my hand. You’re young, this will pass. I promise you. I mean look at all you accomplished before this shit hit the fan. It’s a blip on life’s radar is all. You’re gonna get that twenty-three-year-old and, might I say, fine ass of yours, up on out of this particular gutter in time. Ya just gotta stay strong. Ya hear?

Pity was not something I could bear to see directed toward me. But this wasn’t even pity, it was kindness which, in my state, was a form of emotional Kryptonite that had the power to blast through my walls and expose the fearful, quaking woman inside. I wouldn’t break down and cry. Not here. Not on Zeke’s turf. I’m plenty strong, Jimmy. My voice cracked but I coughed it away.

That you are, Sugar. That you are. But you need to accept a little help. They ain’t nothing wrong with that. Jimmy’s eyes held mine and suddenly all her concern hit me like a ton of bricks. Jinns, like her, could not only transfer their feelings, but they could also show you how you were perceived by others.

No! I don’t want to see -.

Suddenly I felt cut off from everything around me. There were no sounds of the other patrons, only complete silence and then I was looking at myself through Jimmy’s eyes. Dark circles contoured my eyes, a product of too little sleep brought on by stress - the coronary-inducing kind. My naturally pale skin was a pasty shade of cream, my black bob was dank and my clothes hung a little too loosely on my small frame. The glamour spell I’d used at Ling’s parlour had lasted long enough to allow me to leave the dirty alley, but it zapped me of what little energy I’d had. Starvation and spell casting weren’t a good combo, but tonight it had been necessary in order to not lose my only customer.

Jimmy hit me with a dose of honesty that I wasn’t prepared to handle. "You ain’t eatin’ or sleepin’ and you look like shit. Now, I know you don’t believe me but, Zeke will help you if you talk to him."

Zeke and Cato are the greedy billionaires I’m paying restitution to. So no, I’m not going to ask them to have a heart because they wouldn’t know what a heart is. With a wave of anger, I pushed Jimmy out of my head, stopping her from probing further. Her hand slipped away from mine and suddenly the noise of the bar came rushing back with a vengeance. You had no right to do that, Jimmy! No right!

I’m only trying to help.

Well don’t bother!!!!I stormed out of the bar anger bubbling within me like hot lava. At least the energy surge would keep me warm on the journey home.

Frozen, fatigued and fed-up, I got back to find an eviction notice stapled on the door of my apartment. I’d known it was a possibility, but I was still shocked to see it. This was the final nail in the coffin of my ability to get by. In all fairness, I couldn’t really fault the landlord. He’d let several months go by where he got little to no payment. But every time I had money set aside for him, something or someone had to be paid and rent was put at the bottom of the priority list.

Entering the tawdry, furnished studio, I quickly undressed, turned on the bathroom light and watched the roaches scatter away like vampires. In the shower, I let the steaming water heat my cold body, laid my head against the cracked tiles and allowed the tears to fall. I was smothered in debt I couldn’t repay, nobody would hire me and I’d lost the roof over my head. The curve balls kept coming from all directions and, although I’d given it my all, in the end it counted for nothing.

Towelling off, I dressed in leggings and a t-shirt and grabbed the small baseball bat before getting into bed. I’d had two break-ins since I’d moved in and had to be ready for a fight. As my head hit the pillow, the aging hooker next door began vocalizing passionate moans as she serviced one of her many johns. The noise was more akin to caterwauling. Blocking out the rhythmic banging against my wall, I lay there trying to formulate scripts to pitch the landlord tomorrow in the hope he’d be willing to throw me a lifeline. A fight broke out on the street, but I’d learned the hard way not to interfere. The neighbour below me began his nocturnal rants with himself. That wouldn’t be a problem except his deep voice carried so well, he might as well have been sitting in my room. The human cacophony became too much for my addled brain to bear, so I reached for the bag of powdered ink I kept under my pillow, wet my finger and dipped it into the black dust. With the last wisp of magic my exhausted and hungry body could summon, I created a soundproof cocoon around the bed. Sleep claimed me in seconds.

When the knock came to the door at two p.m. the next day, I gave a last look around the place I’d called home for the past six months. My previous apartment was one of the first things to go after the Magistrar declared the astronomical fine I’d have to pay for my involvement in Bossman’s death. My current little cockroach-infested nook had seemed like a total dive at first, but considering my next home was probably under the Bayside Bridge, it was palatial. The knock sounded again and I hoisted the large back-pack on my shoulder and grabbed the worn tote off the bed.

Yep, I’m ready. I’m leaving now, I choked back a sob as I opened the door. My eyes travelled up to two imposing men whose smiling faces seemed vaguely familiar.

Hi Jess, the taller, broader and blonder of the two spoke, as if he already knew me. His blue eyes and goofy grin lent him a boyish charm, but I sensed an underlying lethalness. I’m Shay and this is Jonah.

Jonah had brown, puppy dog eyes and a mop of black curls framing soft features. But, like his companion, I felt he could end my life in a heartbeat, if that was his intention. They weren’t shifters or Vamps. Maybe they were sorcerers? Those snakes could get a toad to pass as a troll without raising any suspicion.

Did Mr. Gonzales send you? I’d gone to see the old man first thing this morning and explained I needed only two weeks to pay him in full. He was polite, kind even, but firm. He needed tenants who could pay up on time. He must’ve seen the desperation in my eyes because he handed me the address of a women’s shelter and told me to ask for Lea. Given the civility of our exchange, I was surprised he’d hired muscle to escort me out.

Who’s Mr. Gonzales? Shay asked with a frown.

The landlord. You don’t know him?

Jonah casually leaned a hand against the door frame. Nope. Never heard of the guy.

A tingle of fear swept along my spine. So why were they here? To rob me? Trash my place? They didn’t look like thugs. Their clothes were casual, just jeans, T’s and leather jackets. Nothing fancy, but nothing shabby either. Thoughts ran to my baseball bat tucked into my tote. Retrieving it couldn’t be done discreetly and doing so in plain view might set them off. What do you want?

Shay’s nostrils flared slightly. No need to be afraid. We’re here to take you to Zeke. He said it happily, like we were all going to trek off to a theme park for the day.

You’re not here for the ev-. I shook my head to get my thoughts straight. Hang on…you said Zeke?

The one and only, Jonah nodded.

As in The Yards, Zeke? My disbelief and distrust quickly registered in their expressions.

That’s right, Shay frowned when I scoffed. Why else would we be here?

Don’t know, don’t care, I said, closing the door.

Hold up, Jess! Jonah’s heavy boot connected with the flimsy plywood door sending it wide open. I swear we’re telling the truth. Both of them instantly turned out their inner wrist to show The Yards’ fealty crest tattooed on their skin. They were the real deal. Zeke wants to talk.

What are you guys? Bodyguards? Peace-keepers?

Shay spoke first. We’re just Zeke’s men.

Now I remembered why their faces were familiar. They were sat in the Magistrar’s court the day sentencing was being doled out for Bossman’s death. "So, just Zeke’s men, you do this regularly? Bring people to impromptu meetings?"

Uhm…sometimes, Jonah interjected with a smile. But this here is totally not a ‘you’re under arrest’ thing,

Yeah, Shay nodded. More like a ‘hey, let’s sit down and chat’ kind of thing.

I belted out a sarcastic laugh. Oh like BFF’s?

Both men looked uncomfortable. What’s a BFF?

My eyes narrowed suspiciously. Is this about the money?

Shay shrugged. He didn’t say.

Really? I find that hard to believe.

He’s right, Jonah defended his partner. Zeke said, and I quote, Jonah cleared his throat then lowered his chin before speaking in a deep voice, I’d like to have a talk with Miss Darrows. Please bring her by the office at two thirty.

That was good, man. Shay high fived Jonah then fist bumped.

He’s not able to pick up the phone like everyone else?

They exchanged a look and some unspoken agreement passed between them. Jonah nodded then said, I believe he tried to call you a few times, but you never responded.

My phone, along with a small storage space, were the only things I’d paid up for three years in advance right when things were hitting the fan. I’d told myself they were necessary expenses, but so far the phone turned out to be a waste of money. After many abusive calls, I began screening numbers until the only call I’d take was from Ling. He never left a message.

Doesn’t matter, Shay shrugged. You can discuss things with him in person.

Oh yeah, this was definitely because I’d short changed him on the payments and I wasn’t foolish enough to just waltz into whatever punishment he’d lined up for that offense. Sorry, but I’m kind of busy here. Maybe another time. I went to move past the duo but they didn’t budge.

Jonah folded his arms. What’s with the bags?

There’s a thing called pride and right now I had too much of it to admit to being homeless. Goddess! Just even saying the word made my heart pinch and blood drain to my toes. I’m off to the Laundromat. The machine in the basement is broken.

Hey, Jonah’s great with that kind of thing. I’ll bet he can fix it up in no time once we get back.

Thanks, but I already have a place to get this done.

Shay winced apologetically. See, Jess, we have to bring you to the meeting. It’s really important you’re there. But we just don’t want you to feel like you’re being arrested.

Yeah, Jonah added. We’d really prefer to escort you in style, you know – more nice, less nab.

Their looks were almost pleading, and I knew they’d bundle me in the car anyway if I refused. So, I agreed to go along.

The Yards was a cheery village-like area on Bayside’s extensive wharf’s end. Despite it being a busy industrial port, many shops, restaurants and other services catered to the entire Otherworld community, the majority of whom called the place, home. At the far end of the wharf, some very attractive real estate with ocean views made the hub a prime spot for the uber wealthy to live.

The ride from my apartment had been smooth and the guys, sitting up front, were chatty and cheery, but I’d remained silent. I was extremely nervous to meet Zeke. You weren’t brought in to meet the top dog without good reason. And there was no doubt in my mind this was about the money I owed. But why meet me in person? He could’ve had his men do the job.

We pulled up outside Jimmy’s bar, the last place I’d expected to be brought. Didn’t Zeke have a penthouse office