When Amara arrived at the Syndicate’s tower the morning after the burial, she climbed the twisting staircase at its core to the top level, where she found a wide open door at the top of the stairs. Hesitantly she knocked, peeking her head around, checking to see if the boss was even in.

Bertie was sitting formally behind a massive wooden desk, her hands clasped together on top of a blotter that looked as though it had never been used. The large office was illuminated on all four sides by circular windows that looked out over London’s vistas, the warm early summer sunlight pouring in to create a brightness that all but hurt Amara’s sensitive eyes.

“Trix and Neko have told me a good deal about you,” said Bertie, her tone deeply serious.

Amara wanted to laugh. The Syndicate’s leader looked so small behind that desk, so out of place as she tried very hard to portray herself as an authority figure. The truth was that she looked like a little doll.

“Have they?” she asked, handing Bertie a golden box of chocolate truffles. “I hope they haven’t been too harsh.”

“Not at all. Beatrix in particular speaks very highly of you. Says you’ve been very good to her and to Lyre.”

“That’s kind of her.”

“She also told me that I should employ you if I know what’s good for me.” She gazed at Amara with a judgmental air, as though assessing her from head to toe. “Though I must tell you, I haven’t met a lot of Enlightened. I don’t entirely know what to make of you.”

Trix had warned Amara about Bertie’s trademark lack of tact and the fact that she would doubtless say something entirely rude and inappropriate. Amara tightened, waiting for the inevitable rejection. Humans seldom felt comfortable in her presence, and she could tell that Bertie was no exception. All she would see was the blood-seeker side, the one that gave her skin its paleness, her scent its strange sweetness. Some instinct inside Bertie would tell her to be ready for anything, that Amara might strike out like a cobra at any moment.

But no rejection came, at least not yet. Bertie simply continued to eye her inquisitively. Perhaps the little woman was braver than she looked.

“If you have a place for me, I’d be very grateful,” Amara said slightly awkwardly. “I do have many useful connections, and I’m good with a blade.” She pulled the Dragon bone dagger from the sheath at her hip and held it up, re-sheathing it when Bertie pulled back in horror.

“I’ve used many a knife in my day,” the boss-lady said, “but I must admit that I’m not fond of them in my office.”

“Sorry,” Amara replied. Great, I’ve already screwed up the interview, she thought.

“It’s fine. I’d expect no less from one of my Hunters.” Amara’s heart raced. Could this mean Bertie was really considering hiring her?

After a moment of tense silence, Bertie rose to her feet and came around the side of the desk, perching on its edge. “You know, I used to be a Hunter. A good one, back when the Lapsed ran wild through London’s streets. I know how to spot malevolent forces in my city.” She levelled Amara with what was no doubt an attempt at an intense stare, but Bertie was just so…adorable. It was a little hard to feel intimidated.

“Do you feel that I’m a malevolent force?” Amara asked.

Bertie shook her head. “No, but I can’t for the life of me figure out why not. I can smell it on you, you know—the blood-seeker. But you’re more pleasant-smelling than most.”

Great, thought Amara. I love it when people bring up my scent.

“I don’t seek blood,” she protested, rejecting the term. “Not human, anyhow.”

“I know. Just promise me you’ll keep it that way and you’ve got yourself a job. The Dragon Guild has given me more money than I know what to do with, and I’m happy to pay you a generous salary for your troubles as anyone. Just get me your banking information and I’ll see to it that your first paycheque comes in by the end of the week.”

“Thank you,” Amara said, her lips curling up in genuine pleasure. This would mean time spent doing what was truly important. Time spent with the Dragons, fighting off the enemies of humans and shifters alike. Time spent with…

“Now, then, I had a call this morning,” Bertie added, looking down at the desk and rifling through what looked like a blank stack of papers, no doubt in order to make herself appear extra-important. “From your friend Minach.”

“Oh?” Something jumped inside Amara’s chest. Why the hell would Minach be calling this woman?

“He asked me if, as a first order of business, I’d be willing to let him take you to Cornwall on a job.”

“Cornwall?” Amara shot out. “Whatever for?”

“We have a lead there. A Dragon shifter who might be able to take us to the fourth Relic.”

“I see, and Minach is heading there himself, I take it?”

Bertie nodded. “Yes, tomorrow, I believe. He said he could use a bodyguard, though that seems like a load of tosh to me. I’ve seen that man in action.”

“As have I,” said Amara, trying to mask her admiration.

Bertie raised an inquisitive eyebrow. “Oh, have you now? He’s a tough horse to bridle, that one. Well at any rate, I gave him my blessing. You don’t say no to a man like Minach.”

Some of us do. Amara smiled at the thought of getting the chance to turn him down again; it would mean spending time by his side, at least. “Thank you. I appreciate that.”

“As to where you’ll be staying, my brother has—had—a cottage in Cornwall, near Land’s End,” Bertie added, “before he left us for a better place.”

“I’m so sorry for your loss.”

The head of the Syndicate chuckled. “Oh, he didn’t die. He’s moved to Paris, the lucky bastard. But the cottage is still in his name, though no one uses it these days.”

Amara stifled a laugh. Bertie was full-on smiling too, for the first time since the Enlightened had walked into her office.

“Anyhow, I emailed him this morning to see if you could borrow the house. He said yes.” Bertie hopped down from the desk and circled back, opening a drawer on the other side. “Here,” she said, tossing Amara a set of keys. “I’ll send you details on the location. Big enough for a Dragon shifter and an Enlightened to share without getting themselves into trouble, I dare say.”

“I’ll make sure Minach behaves himself,” said Amara.

“I wish you wouldn’t. That man needs sex like no one I’ve ever seen. I’d bet a good quick blowjob would wipe that perma-scowl off his face. Then he’d be as handsome as that sexy deaf brother of his.” Amara did her best not to let her jaw drop. Her new employer really was as tactless as the rumours had dictated. “Just do me a favour and don’t let that Minach punch a fist through any walls, would you?” Bertie added. “The cottage is actually in rather good shape.”

“Of course,” Amara replied, rising to her feet. “Will there be anything else?”

Bertie’s expression turned serious, her tone measured. “Just be careful, love. Nothing in this business is as it seems. There are threats where we least expect them, and friends in the oddest places. Keep an eye out for both.”

“I know that all too well, but thank you.”

“Right, then. Have a nice time, dear,” Bertie added as though she was sending her new employee off for a weekend at the beach. “Oh, and don’t forget your sunscreen. With a complexion like yours you could burn in Cornwall. It’s surprisingly tropical. Have you been there?”

Amara shook her head. “Never.”

“Palm trees and old stone churches everywhere. It’s the oddest place, but I’ve always loved its beauty. Anyhow, enjoy yourself, and don’t let that handsome Dragon pull anything. Well, unless he’s pulling your clothes off, in which case I encourage it.” Bertie leaned forward. “He’s really the most gorgeous devil, isn’t he?” she whispered hoarsely.

“Is he? I hadn’t noticed.” Amara rose to her feet, ready to take her leave in the hopes that she wouldn’t have to answer any more questions.

Bertie pulled back, studying the Enlightened’s face. “You’ll have to work on your lying,” she said. “A special agent who works for the Syndicate needs to know how to grind out falsehoods with a proper poker face. I can tell that you’d like to roll around in the altogether with Minach just like the rest of us would.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. The poker face, I mean. Take care, Bertie.”

“Toodles, lovey. Let me know how it all goes.”

As Amara turned to step towards the staircase, her heart pounding, she said, “Will do.”