Chapter 2

  She pressed her ear against the wall, waiting patiently for silence to reign.

  Her legs were cramping from sitting in the same spot for over an hour, but she dared not move, knowing that the slightest movement might lead to her capture, even if just by the child on the other side of the door.

  The closet was hardly bigger than a kindergarten cubby hole and even at five feet four, Arya found the space stifling.

  It’s a good thing I’m not claustrophobic, she thought wryly. Of course, if I was, I would be terrible at my job.

  She was so close to her goal that she could almost touch it, but of course, she dared not.

  She was slightly annoyed with herself for not approaching this heist differently, but if she had known…

  I’ll chalk this up to a learning experience.

  Finally, the door to the bedroom opened and the child left, his footsteps echoing down the hallway as his mother called out to him.

  Holy shit, that took forever, Arya thought with exasperation, prying open the closet and stretching her legs before rising to her full height. It’s unbelievable how long kids can entertain themselves when alone. Damned technology.

  Her eyes darted around the room, while her other supernatural senses monitored the activity in the house.

  On the main floor, she could hear the mother and son chatting about something, but she couldn’t quite pick up the words.

  Is it just me or is my hearing not as good as it used to be? She directed more power to sensing the people in the house, and the clarity ramped up.

  It didn’t matter really; she wasn’t there to listen to their conversation. She was there to reclaim the brooch for Rowan and be on her way before the mother discovered her in the house.

  Arya stole into the hallway, carefully checking the short corridor before darting to the next room.

  It was a tiny, modest house and Arya felt slightly ashamed stealing from such a family, but she had little choice in the matter.

  What Rowan wanted, Rowan got.

  And Rowan paid for, Arya reminded herself, her eyes instantly falling on the jewellery box atop a scarred dresser beneath the window.

  At least the woman would think that she had merely misplaced the brooch. After all, who would assume someone had broken in and stolen only a cheap bauble that she had found at a second-hand store.

  This job was child’s play, really, the bronze and garnet brooch stuffed in the pile of other costume pieces. She stuck the item in her pocket and turned toward the window.

  “I’ll be right back, Caelen. I’m just getting – “

  Arya was just as startled as the woman when she entered the bedroom, her eyes wide with shock.

   Crap! You are truly losing your touch, girl, if you can’t even sense a woman walking up on you. And she wasn’t even trying to be sneaky, for Hades sake!

  “Wh-who are you?” she gasped out. “Did Dave send you?” And with that assumption, an angry flush came over her face. “You tell that asshole that he’s not seeing his son until he pays me my goddamned child support!”

  Arya shook her head dumbly.

  “What do you want?” the infuriated woman demanded. “I don’t have any money. I’m a single mom and my son, oh my God, don’t hurt my son!”

  A flash of sympathy and annoyance coursed through Arya simultaneously.

  Lady, I’m not even armed. Get a grip.

  “No one will get hurt,” she replied quickly. “I’m leaving right now.”

  She spun toward the window and raised the pane in one smooth motion. But as she threw her leg over the sill, a shot rang out and the glass over her head shattered.

  Stunned, Arya whipped her head around to gape at the mother.

   What the ever-loving hell?!

  She pinned the shocked woman with a glare. She didn’t know which of them was more surprised by the aggressive action. The woman’s mouth dropped as she stood beside the bedside table, the drawer still opened, the gun still pointed toward Arya.

  “You just shot at me!? Are you fucking crazy?”

  The sudden paling of the woman’s complexion confirmed to Arya that she had reacted without thinking. Then the sudden sound of footsteps hurrying down the hall mobilized both women.

  “Mom! Mom, are you okay?”

  Again, she raised the gun, a look of determination filling her face. Arya didn’t wait around to see if the woman would follow through. She managed to throw herself from the second-floor window to the ground, rolling toward the house and out of the terrified mother’s view.

  She heard the boy’s frantic questions above her head and she waited, knowing that the mother would need to put the gun down to comfort him.

  Hopefully before the police arrive. Boy did I fuck up this “simple” job.

  I’m charging Rowan double for this. Danger pay.

  She began to crouch-run around the corner of the house, hoping she still had time to get away. She used any cover she could find to steal through the neighborhood and make her way into the alley.

  In minutes she was back on the Sapphire Strip, standing before a beaten down psychic shop. She bypassed the storefront and instead made her way up the side stairs to the second-floor apartment.

  “Well that was something,” Rowan chuckled as she entered. “Didn’t see that coming.”

  “You could have at least warned me that she had a gun,” Arya grumbled. “I would have gone about this much differently. You know, like armed. Or not at all.”

  “I’ll give you that danger pay you wanted,” Rowan snickered and Arya was embarrassed that her aggravation had projected to such a distance. The high sorceress extended her palm toward Arya, demanding the priceless brooch.

  “Can you imagine that a Deviant would pawn this thing for a fix? What have the mortals done to this place? Even the immortals are selling themselves crack or heroin these days. Unbelievable,” Rowan grumbled. “It pains me that I have to pay to get it back when it should never have been sold in the first place. And what do you want to bet that the woman bought it for ten bucks at the hock shop? Shameful.”

  Arya nodded in agreement, knowing that the brooch contained a powerful element, but what it was exactly, she couldn’t say. Spell-casting and rituals were not her forte. Her talents were subtler – and illegal.

  “Is this from the Lanuarius Collection?” she asked Rowan without thinking.

  “You should not ask questions you don’t want the answer to,” Rowan chuckled darkly. Arya resisted the urge to respond. Rowan was Arya’s best client, having brought her into the world of theft and robbery over a decade earlier and training her. She decided it wasn’t in her best interests to antagonize her powerful associate.

  Rowan wasn’t known for her patience. She was a renowned priestess and well respected on the Sapphire circuit and Arya had always been grateful for her patronage.

  It had only been recently, however, that the jobs had included high end stakes, objects which could not be replaced as opposed to other less important thefts or retrievals. 

  I’m finally in the big game, she thought with satisfaction. But she knew with bigger risk came greater danger.

  Like being shot at.

  Rowan reached into her sweeping gown of coral and retrieved an envelope, handing it to Arya. But before the sorceress could accept it, Rowan pulled back, her crystalline eyes locked on her face.

  “You are troubled,” she murmured. “I can see it in your face.”

  Arya snorted.

  “I think that is my life’s motto,” she said. “What else is new?”

  “No…” Rowan said slowly. “This is different. This is…”

  She paused, snatching Arya’s hand and gripping it tightly. The redhead smothered a groan. Oh, how she despised Rowan’s impromptu readings. It was as if the high sorceress purposely overlooked the fact that Arya also possessed the ability to foresee.

  This is exactly like going to therapy. I don’t need to waste my time having someone else telling me what’s wrong with me. I am aware.

  “It is not about a man this time,” Rowan began, and this time Arya could not supress the sigh, the heat of humiliation staining her peaches and cream cheeks.

  “It was never about a man,” she insisted but Rowan shushed her, fingertips tracing the lines of her hands as she continued to read. Her brow furrowed and her head jerked up to meet Arya’s gaze.

  “How long has it been?” she whispered, and Arya’s aggravation blossomed into fear.

  “I don’t know what you mean, Rowan and honestly, I’m a little late as – “

  “The sickness. How long has it been?”

  “What? What sickness?” she hedged.

  Rowan stared at her intently, a darkness shadowing her light blue irises.

  “You know exactly what I’m talking about, Arya.”

  Arya felt as if the wind had been knocked out of her and she yanked her hand back defiantly.

  “It’s nothing!” she snapped with more fury than she had intended. “Damn you, Rowan!”

  Arya didn’t care that she risked upsetting her best client. She felt sick to her stomach as she snatched her money from the table, whirling to leave the stuffy apartment.

  “Arya,” Rowan called after her and while she did not turn, Arya paused to listen.

  “It will get worse. Much, much worse.”

  Tears of anger filled her emerald eyes and she slowly turned to stare at the high sorceress balefully.

  “You don’t know that,” she choked, hearing how empty the words sounded. Of course Rowan knew. Rowan knew as well as she did.

  “Ignoring it won’t make it go away,” Rowan told her patiently. “I know you are scared, but I can help – “

  “No, you can’t!” she cried. “No one can…”

  She didn’t permit the witch to respond, bounding down the stairs as fast as her legs would carry her.

  As she hurried through the Sapphire Strip, looking for a cab to bring her home, she willed herself to calm down.

  By the time she finally hailed one, she was feeling more in control and she flopped back against the cracked vinyl seats, breathing deeply.

  “Where to, Red?” the driver called, eyeing her through the rear-view mirror.

  “Hawthorne Hills,” she mumbled, reaching for her cell phone.

  “That’ll cost you,” he warned.

  “I’ve got it,” she replied. In her haste to leave Rowan’s suffocating presence, she had not bothered to count the cash, but when she looked, she saw that Rowan had given her a nice bonus for the garnet job.

  But suddenly it didn’t feel worth it, and she wished she could erase the memory of this whole evening from her mind.

  She dialed and the phone was answered after one ring.

  “Ah. You’re alive,” Circe declared.

  “Have I ever shown up dead?” Arya replied. “How’s it going?”

  There was a slight silence.

  “It’s okay,” the Valkyrie replied slowly.

  “But?”

  Again, Circe was silent for a long moment and Arya’s heart began to race.

  “What?” she demanded, her voice raising an octave. “What happened?”

  “Nothing!” Circe insisted. “But I think it’s time, Arya. It’s not getting better.”

  Rowan’s words echoed tauntingly in her mind like a skipping record.

  “It will get worse. Much, much worse…. Ignoring it won’t make it go away…

  “I’ll be home in twenty minutes and we’ll go,” she vowed, blinking back tears of resignation.

  If ‘cool as a cucumber’ Circe said it was time, it was time. How many more signs did Arya need?

  “Arya?”

  “I’m still here,” she mumbled. “I’ll be home soon.”

  “What are you going to tell them at the hospital?”

  It was a question that she had no answer for.

  After all, she couldn’t just rush a two-year-old into emergency with mysterious symptoms without expecting a barrage of tests.

  The fear that they would learn somehow that her toddler daughter wasn’t human washed through her. It wasn’t like they’d be able to tell the child was half-demon, half-sorceress, but they may certainly find out that she wasn’t like them either…