Pettigrove stood in the spacious living room of her luxurious hotel suite, she had waited until the evening had fallen to arrange the drop off of her precious cargo. Looking down on Q’s daughter’s unconscious body, she couldn’t help but smile. When she had her location, a plan was easily formulated. Mr. Singed had come on board with a couple of others, posing as maintenance workers in her office. They were able to get the upper hand without much of a kerfuffle.

“She dropped easily,” Singed said as he reclined his ample frame into a chair. “Her receptionist was more trouble. She kept screaming about her dead body being hidden forever.” He laughed with a dark undercurrent. “I guess she must have been psychic or something.”

The pleasure he took in his work caused a shiver to run up Pettigrove’s spine. She was a locator of people, but on the few times a person has needed to be removed, it never gave her the level of pleasure that was currently dancing across Mr. Singed’s face. “I don’t think I want to know any more,” she said. “I have what I want.”

“When’s he due to arrive?”

She looked at her watch. “Fifteen minutes. So if you don’t mind.” With a point to the door, she politely asked him to leave.

“Oh?” he mocked. “You will use me for labor, but not for the glory?”

“Something like that. Now, out.”

Singed studied her for a few minutes before lifting his heavy frame from the chair, its sigh of relief as the cushions inflated from where they were squished flat was evident. “Fine.” He held out his hand, palm up with a look of expectation on his face.

Pettigrove pulled a fat envelope from her desk and placed it in his hand. “This should pay for your silence.”

Singed opened it up to see a thick wad of American bills. Flicking his thumb along them, he took a large breath, letting the scent intoxicate him briefly. “I love the smell of cash in the evening.”

“You love the smell of cash at any time.” Pettigrove smirked.

“You know me well,” he said grinning. “‘Til next time.” Singed walked over to the door and left, without any more than the click of the latch left in his wake.

A small groan caused Pettigrove to turn back to the body lying on her living room floor. She walked over, using her boot to push the hip of her captive guest. Another groan emanated as it began to move even more, stretching out its legs.

“Evening, sleepyhead,” Pettigrove said joyfully, her smile widened as the woman’s head flicked around and locked eyes with her. This was the first time she’d seen her in the flesh. She had been searching for her for so long now, it was almost anticlimactic to have her so helpless at her feet.

“What happened?” Cinders asked, her words slurred with the effects of the drugs still traveling through her body.

“Greetings… Grace Nadene Quade,” Pettigrove said her full birth name.

“Grace Cinders… my name is Grace Cinders.” Cinders struggled with her lips, closing her eyes as she made them obey her commands.

“That’s not what your daddy says,” Pettigrove quipped. “I’m sure you can discuss that with him yourself.” Sliding up her sleeve, checking her watch, Pettigrove grinned. “He should be here any second.”

Cinders pushed against the sturdy black fabric covering that wrapped her arms around her body. She was confined entirely from the waist to the neck, and even in her weakened state, she understood there was no breaking through.

“Snug enough? Had a little spell put on it just for you. Wouldn’t want any wings springing free or anything. Would we?” Pettigrove squatted down near her head. “Would you like me to help you to a chair?” When Cinders nodded, she grabbed her shoulders and helped her up. Walking her over the few steps to the plush sofa, she helped her sit in the corner. “Better?”

Cinders nodded again to the question she was asked. “Thank you,” Cinders said, wincing as she wiggled. Now the drugs had worn off, her body was hurting from where she’d obviously been handled with less than gentle care.

Pettigrove took a seat opposite her. “I’m not a monster. I’m not here to hurt anyone. This was just a job. Locate and deliver, that’s all.”

“And for the people who don’t want to be delivered?” Cinders asked, her voice was gaining a steadiness to form full sentences.

Tilting her head, she pondered the thought for a few beats. “I’m paid for a job to be completed, the rest isn’t my concern.” She saw Cinders looking around the room, trying to form some plan of escape, no doubt. “I wouldn’t bother. I’m not just here for the luxury, as much as that’s a very pleasant perk.” Pettigrove chuckled. “That spa alone… mmm…” A small shake of her head. “Anyway, yes… back to you. This suite is fifty-three floors up, and virtually soundproof. Perk of so much marble and tiles being used, I guess.” Shrugging as she leaned back in the chair, she crossed her legs in front of her.

“And my dad is on his way?”

A frown creased her forehead as she looked again at her timepiece. “Yes, but he’s late. Unusual… he’s normally punctual to the point of obsessive.”

“Glad he hasn’t changed,” Cinders mumbled. “Maybe he got hit by a car?” A hopeful spike in her voice made Pettigrove laugh.

“I will admit, he doesn’t reek of fatherly love. But—”

“Then let me go,” Cinders voice jumped in quickly, her eagerness making it rise an octave. “Let me fly out of here, silently, I promise to not say a word to anyone.”

Pettigrove shook her head. “I have a perfect record. That’s why I get paid the big bucks, honey.” Her head turned to a noise on the balcony outside. A few large thumps as her guests arrived by wing. “Daddy’s here.”

Grinning, she got up and walked over to the large glass doors. Unclipping the lock, she slid them open and jumped back with a gasp. Two men carried in a very large unconscious man and dumped him on the floor of her living room. Following that, in came another male who carried a much smaller female, motionless just like the male, as she was flopped unceremoniously on to the floor as well. Q strode in, his back straight and head held high.

Pettigrove stepped back from the commotion as she said, “I didn’t know this was a ‘bring your own body’ party?”

Q looked at her. “Don’t concern yourself with things that have nothing to do with you.” He looked at the men standing over the unconscious bodies. “Tell me if they move.” He saw them nod then turned to a female who was sitting on the sofa. Her eyes widened with terror as he walked slowly toward her. “Grace…”

“Father…” The word tasted like acid in her mouth.

“You never returned my Christmas calls?” He sat next to her, leaving a small space on the sofa as he turned his body to face her. “Why, Grace?”

Cinders scoffed. “Let me think… was it the fact you ordered my termination? That you were happy to have someone kill your own daughter, rather than face the fact she hated you? Hated the blaze? Hated everything that was phoenix?” Cinders said with calmness—she always knew her time would come. Obviously, it was her time to pay the piper. “Couldn’t have people thinking you were somehow less than the perfect father, could you?”

The crack of Q’s hand slapping Cinders’ face echoed around the room. Making Pettigrove gasp as she watched Cinders’ face violently toss a full ninety degrees to the left under the force of her father’s hand.

“Thank you, Daddy. May I have another?” Cinders said through gritted teeth as she slowly turned her head back to look into the eyes of her childhood abuser. She winced as he raised his hand once more, the venom that boiled in his eyes was something she’d grown up with. The beatings had started when she was first able to fly. If she dared defy him, she would feel his displeasure for weeks after. “Go on, hit me again, you soul destroying bastard.” Cinders lifted her chin in defiance. “Go on,” she taunted the devil that sat in front of her in the shape of her father. “Beating on your little girl made you feel like such a fucking big man, didn’t it? Go on Daddy, hit me, just like the good old days.”

Seeing red at being disrespected publicly, Q clenched his fist and drove it hard into the chin of his daughter. Her head launching up with such force it nearly lifted her off the chair. He reached over and grabbed her chin hard, bringing her face to within an inch of his own. He growled deeply as the blood from her nose dripped down her shirt “Disrespectful little whore, I should have killed you at birth along with your mother.”

“I guess it’s time to clean up old mistakes then, huh?” Cinders murmured through the pain which now radiated through her jaw.

“Ahh… boss?” one of the men standing by the wall said. “The big one is waking.”

Q stood up, he looked down at his daughter and his lips turned up with disgust. She sat tall in the chair, her head held defiantly proud, despite knowing she caused shame on the family name. Making a vulgar sound at the back of his throat, and spat at his daughter’s head. “I will be back.”

Cinders didn’t flinch at the wet glob of spit as it hit her forehead and slid down her face. “Oh, goodie…” she mocked. “I simply can’t wait for more of this wonderful… Daddy—daughter time.” Flashing a smile at him as she watched him walk away. Cinders’ eyes fell to Pettigrove, and by the look of remorse dancing across her face, she obviously didn’t truly understand the level of evil she’d been hired by.

“I’m sorry,” she mouthed.

Cinders thought about letting her off the hook but went with her instinct. “Sorry won’t keep me alive.” Shrugging with resigned acceptance, she knew she wouldn’t see another sunrise.

A quick look showed Pettigrove that her employer was distracted, she moved over next to Cinders. “I just locate. That’s all. It’s a job.”

Cinders snorted, “Yeah, you said that. The thing that confuses me is why you don’t understand that some people vanish for a reason. Some people disappear for their own safety. Then… in trots some pretty little owl shifter, with a pole of grandeur shoved so hard up her ass, that she should rightfully look like a fucking long-necked flamingo. Telling secrets, finding lost puppies and causing the death of God knows how many shifters, who were only trying to survive the abuse of their past.”

Pettigrove’s face was turning whiter with every word that Cinders said—a reality of her job she hadn’t thought of. It was her FBI training which had taught her to take the target’s name, locate, and hand them over to the judicial system. It dawned on Pettigrove painfully, in that moment, that she hadn’t been handing them over to a fair and just system of being innocent until proven guilty. She had been handing people back to complete strangers to do with them as they wish. The bottom of her stomach dropped with the weight of what she’d actually been doing. The bile rose in her throat as she realized the huge mistake she’d made.

“I… just…” she whispered painfully.

“You might not be driving the dagger into my heart physically, but you handed him the weapon,” Cinders said defeated.

Pettigrove rubbed her eyes with frustration and anger at herself for having been blind for so long. How did she not see this is what was happening? Money had become her root of all evil, and she felt more powerful with every dollar that added to her account. Yet, right now? The roots of that money tree felt like it was strangling the very life from her body. She looked at Cinders. “I’m going to fix this…” she said.

“Fix what?” Looking over her shoulder at her father’s back, which was not more than nine feet away. “It’s a bit late for fixing anything.”

“I can fix it,” Pettigrove said with a surety that impressed Cinders, both in its conviction, but also the ludicrous thought that this tiny owl shifter could stop her father. Cinders shrugged with a nod. Sure, she said to herself. Let’s see what you got. Cinders knew she was going to die, so why not have some entertainment before the main headline event.

“Wake up, dragon.” Cinders head turned to her father’s bellow.

“I’m awake you son of a feathered bitch,” came a husky reply, as the large male struggled to sit up.

“Help him, and his little girlfriend,” Q barked at the surrounding men. They looped an arm through and lifted them both to a sitting position. Leaning them side by side against the living room wall.

Q’s smile never reached his dead black eyes as he stood in front of his two guests. When the dragon looked up at him, he said, “Attor,” and he took a deep breath as if to savor the scent of dragon in the air. “It’s delightful to meet you, finally. I was hoping to meet your older brother first, but…” he flashed a menacing grin, “… you will do.” Turning his head to the smaller female, Q’s eyes widened with excitement “Who’s your friend? Seeing you with a…” He looked back at Attor. “You did know she’s a phoenix, right?”

Attor nodded, causing a giddy clap from Q, he was behaving more unbalanced by the second. “Oh good, didn’t want to spoil any surprises she might have had planned for you. Surely you must understand my surprise, right?” He waited for another nod from the dragon before continuing, “A dragon and a phoenix… together?” His body shivered with revulsion. “It’s just… repugnant.” Q squatted in front of the small female who was staying silent. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

“Fuck you,” Taryn shot back.

With barely time to blink, Q’s hand lifted and slapped her hard across her face. The sound like a gunshot ricocheting around the room.

“Don’t sass me, bitch. I asked your name.” Q’s voice went low and dangerous. He could hear the dragon straining violently against the tight chest-covering restraint he was wearing. Attor’s arms were wound tightly around himself and fully enclosed in a black heavy fabric jacket of some sort. A slow turn of his head, as his dead black eyes locked with Attor’s. “Did you think I wouldn’t be prepared? Those jackets are specially designed for your kind.” Glancing quickly at her daughter, who was sitting there wide-eyed at him hitting another female. “Apparently good for other winged varieties, too. It’s handy having friends of the wiccan kind in my corner.”

Looking back to Taryn, her cheek bright red from the impact of his hand. “Name? Don’t make me ask three times.”

Taryn fought the tears from falling. Even though her face was on fire, she gritted her teeth and said, “Taryn.” When Q didn’t move, she sighed heavily and added, “Taryn Spigoletti.”

“Spigoletti?” Pettigrove said as she stood up.

“Taryn?” Cinders said, only having just realized who was sitting there. “Let her go. She had nothing to do with this,” Cinders calmed her voice. “Please father, let her go.”

Q laughed as he stood up. “So now… I’m your father? Please, Daddy,” he mocked his daughter, putting his hands on his cheeks to hold his own face and fluttering his eyelashes. “Daddy. No. Daddy… please stop…” Dropping his hands, he locked eyes with his daughter. “Just like the old days.”

“Fuck you! You sick, son of a bitch.” Cinders fought ferociously against the bindings that held her tight.

“Later, baby girl, later.” Q winked.

“I’m sorry, Taryn.” The tears rolled down Cinders’ cheeks. “I’m sooo sorry. I tried.”

Q looked at Pettigrove. “You know her?” he asked. “I thought I knew all the phoenix in the area.”

Pettigrove swallowed hard, yet again, like a beacon of failure she could see what she’d been doing was wrong. “Yes, I know her. She’s on my books. I knew she was in Tokyo and was going to look for her tomorrow after delivering your…” She couldn’t bring herself to say the word, daughter. Right now, she couldn’t think of anything worse than being related to this monster who stood in front of her.

“I asked who she is?” Q stated firmly. He didn’t have the time nor the inclination to dance around the subject with anyone, including the owl shifter.

“Her name is Taryn Spigoletti. She’s been operating here under the name Taryn Miles. She works at Disneyland…” She slightly paused, as her mind put a few puzzle pieces in place between the Taryn and Cinders. Choosing to keep that information to herself she continued, “Taryn’s case is very rare. She comes from a very powerful family. Human family.”

“But she obviously isn’t… human?” Q inquired.

“Correct. It seems generations back, a tryst with a phoenix under the cover of darkness produced a child. With no further signs of mutation, it was hidden and ultimately forgotten about… until…” Pettigrove said.

“Until?” Q barked.

“Until one night in a Vegas hotel room, she and her boyfriend at the time were in their suite being robbed. In the commotion, she unknowingly turned into a phoenix. The following moments of panic caused the criminals to shoot both her and her then-boyfriend, dead, or so they thought. But as they stood taking a look at the huge bird creature which stood in the hotel room, they dropped the gun and vanished into the black of the night. A few moments later, Taryn had turned back into her human shape. She picked up the weapon, and ran to her boyfriend just as he took his last breath.”

“I feel like I should get some popcorn,” Q quipped as he glanced at Taryn. “Quite a story. How did she end up here?”

Pettigrove knew this was where she didn’t want to go.

“How did she end up in Tokyo?” Q repeated his question as the aggression in his energy amped up.

“I brought her here,” Cinders said.

Q’s head flicked around. “You?”

Nodding, Cinders said, “I have a friend in the Spigoletti family. They asked if I could help hide her, seeing I have the same ‘condition’ she does. I agreed, despite putting myself in danger of being seen. She was a young woman who was scared, alone, and no one to run to. I know what that’s like, so I helped her hide.” Cinders’ eyes looked to Taryn. “I just wish I’d done a better job. I’m sorry.”

Taryn shook her head, the wetness on her cheeks glimmering like a waterfall of grief under the living room spotlights. “Bound to happen. Can’t run forever, right?” Taryn looked at Attor, who’d been silently listening to her story being told. “Just seems a shame to not have had time to fully explore life’s little pleasures.” Smiling at Attor, she said, “I guess fate was wrong.”

“Fate’s never wrong,” Attor said, a fresh new conviction coated his words. He would find a way out of this. He didn’t know how, or where, but somewhere this feathered fucker would slip up, and he’d be standing there ready to pluck the living shit out of him.