“There’s something else, isn’t there?”

  I reach for my drink, using the move to buy myself time. If I say it aloud, I won’t be able to take it back or pretend it away anymore, but in the end, the alcohol pulls the words from my lips. “There was a woman.”

  “Fuck me,” Styx says, throwing up her hands, “there always is.”

  I cut her a look. Whatever she sees in me has pity flashing like lightning in her eyes. “Damn, what was she, a siren? You look pathetic.”

  “Worse,” I say, misery leaking in around the alcohol making my senses buzz. “My mate.”

  “No shit?” She looks stunned. I watch as her expression registers the memory of her own mate issues. When she recovers, she says, “I thought you couldn’t have a mate.”

  “So did I.”

  Her eyes narrow, but they’re glassier now, glazed with the magic infusion. “Wait. How can you have a mate bond and a blood oath to Caius?”

  “I don’t think I can.” My voice is hoarse.

  She’s hit on the real problem I’m trying to drink into oblivion. Her expression softens.

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I have to choose.”

  Styx stares at me, sympathy mingling with that dry humor we both know she uses to cope. “Wow, and I thought my life was fucked.”

  I snort.

  She raises her newly refilled glass to me and says, “You lived a good life, soldier. But it’s over now.”

  “Fuck me,” I mutter, and then we drink to her dramatic toast.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I watch as the drunk eyeing Styx gets off his bar stool and approaches. He sways slightly, but his gaze is firmly set on the female beside me.

  I tense, not really worried since Styx can handle herself, but I also don’t appreciate the interruption I know is coming. Nor do I think Caius is going to look kindly on us getting into a bar fight. Again.

  “Hey, gorgeous,” the male leers, and Styx turns to glare at him. “I couldn’t help but overhear you saying you wanted to get fucked.” He winks. Or tries to. It’s more of a slow blink while his jaw hangs slack for concentration. “I think I can help with that.”

  Fuck. This guy clearly has a death wish.

  I brace myself for Styx to gut him right here. Even Meech, the bartender, who is no coward and usually doesn’t put up with this kind of shit, makes himself scarce.

  Styx merely stares him down, incredibly still on her stool. “The only thing you can help with is my death count,” she tells him. “Unless you turn around and stumble away right now.”

  Mentally, I will him to take her advice.

  Under normal circumstances, I’d kill him myself for the way he spoke to her, but my role here in Tartarus is not normal. Nor does it allow me to kill without the permission of Caius himself. In fact, if I witness another citizen committing unsanctioned violence, I’ll have no choice but to intervene.

  Unfortunately, the dumbass is either too drunk or too stupid to know his mistake.

  He doesn’t leave.

  Instead, he inches closer. To me.

  His thumb jerks against my shoulder. “Why don’t you drop this asshole and come sit with me,” he tells Styx.

  “Watch your mouth,” I warn, temper heating beneath my skin.

  The alcohol fuels my rage, and my blood heats with the urge to turn this asshole to cinders and ash.

  “Fuck you,” the guy says.

  “That’s it,” Styx snaps, getting to her feet.

  The drunk makes a clumsy grab for her, and I snap.

  The blood oath prevents me from killing him, but I shove him hard enough to send him flying backward into the empty table and chairs behind us. He crashes against them, sending wood splintering in all directions.

  “What the hell,” the drunk stutters, but I barely register his words as I focus on his attempts to get up.

  Back on his feet, his skin ripples as he shifts into his counterpart: a hellhound from the looks of it.

  Good.

  I wouldn’t want this fight to be easy.

  “Legion.” Styx’s voice is sharp and close.

  I ignore her.

  She steps in front of me, blocking the asshole from my view.

  “You can’t,” she says.

  “Move.”

  “Caius will have your hide,” she argues. “Let me.”

  “If you harm him without Caius’ approval, the blood oath will compel me to intervene against you,” I tell her.

  She smirks. “You don’t think I can take you?”

  Before I can answer, the hellhound leaps straight for Styx. I shove her aside and throw myself at him with a roar. The blood bond pulls taut against my desire to kill, but it doesn’t prevent me from breaking every bone in his body one by one. Behind me, Styx finishes her drink and watches like the good friend she is while I do just that.

  Chapter 3

  Tori

  Ahalf-hour later, blood still pumping with adrenaline and fear, I bypass the house and use the creaky gate to slip into my backyard. An old shed in the back serves as my workshop, and I hurry inside, forgoing the light to keep from alerting Kendall. Using the flashlight on my phone, I search through the cabinets along the far wall, rifling through items until I’ve kicked up enough dust to send me into a coughing fit.

  Finally, I find the book I’m looking for. Grabbing it from the stack, I whirl just in time for the door to bang open and Kendall to fill the opening. She has a kitchen knife gripped in each hand, her expression twisted in fear and determination.

  “Stop right there, or I’ll cut you in half,” she threatens.

  “Kendall,” I say, shining the flashlight on my own face. “It’s me.”

  She huffs out a breath in strangled relief. “Gods, Tor. What the fuck. You scared me senseless.”

  “Sorry.”

  I shuffle over and flip on the light.

  Kendall takes one look at me, and her fear returns. “What happened?”

  “Nothing. I just didn’t want to disturb you, so I⁠—”

  “Torissa Emerald Sage, don’t bullshit me.”

  “Your fae senses aren’t always right, you know.”

  “Is that so? And what about my eyesight? Is that also unreliable?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Give me your phone.” I hesitate, and she reaches down and snatches it from my hand. With a quick swipe, she sets it on selfie mode and holds it up to my face.

  I gasp.

  On my chest and throat, my veins are a tangled map of dark gray lines beneath my skin. I pull my shirt up to find the same coloring across my abdomen and down my arms.

  “What the hell happened?” Kendall repeats.

  My hands go to my pockets then my boot, and I check, again, that my vials are all still intact. They are, right down to the demon tears. Which means none of those are to blame for…whatever this is.

  Fear lances through me as I remember the female outside the bar. She didn’t accidentally come into contact with a broken vial.

  She touched me.

  And I killed her.

  And now… my veins are rotting?

  Fuck.

  I stare down at the dark veins running beneath my skin, horror and disbelief swirling into a nightmare of dread. I have no idea how it’s possible or why it’s happening, but the only thing I can think about now is how close Kendall is standing to me. And how lethally dangerous that is.

  “How do you feel?” Kendall asks worriedly. “Does it hurt?”

  “No,” I assure her. “It’s fine.”

  I lower my shirt.

  “It is not fine. You’re⁠—”

  “Kendall,” I say with forced calmness. “I promise I’ll tell you everything, but right now, I need you to back away from me.”

  She starts to argue, and I snap. “Please!”

  “Okay.” She backs off, and my shoulders sag.

  Before I can offer an explanation, another sound comes from the doorway. We both jump and then exhale as Juniper moves into the light. The older woman’s chestnut hair flows freely and wildly down her back—a visible example of her free and wild spirit. At her arrival, the plants surrounding us slowly strain in her direction, and I swear I can hear them whispering to her in the silence.

  Juniper is a nymph, like my mother was, and our oldest family friend. She lives across the street but spends the majority of her time with us. She’s the closest thing to a parent we have left.

  “Tori,” she says when she sees me. “Are you—oh.” She stops at the sight of my skin.

  “Tori was just about to tell us what the hell is going on,” Kendall says. “Isn’t that right?”

  I sigh, knowing there’s no chance of keeping this from them. Not when I’m a walking danger to them. Quickly, I recount what happened, leaving out the part about poisoning my mark. Or anything to do with the handsome stranger that I insanely thought might be my mate.

  “So, you think this random girl was poisoned because she touched your skin?” Kendall asks dubiously. “That’s impossible.”

  “I don’t have another explanation.” I look at Juniper, who is quietly contemplative. “Do you?”

  She frowns, nodding at the book in my hands. “You checked your father’s diary?”

  “Not yet. I was about to.”

  “My kind are not capable of what you’re suggesting,” she says. “But your fae blood might hold some answers.” Her words hold no accusation. She knew my father and never judged him for what he was or what he did as a poisoner. Still, I can’t help but feel some judgment of my own toward my dark fae heritage, especially if it’s somehow transformed me into a walking, breathing poison.

  I exchange a look with Kendall and can tell she understands.

  “Tor,” she says, stepping forward as if to comfort me.

  “Stay back,” I say quickly.

  She retreats.

  Silence falls, and I feel a wall forming between us. It’s not just Kendall though. It’s everyone. The idea of never touching another living creature is a bleak thought. One I’m not quite ready to process just yet.

  “I’m going to read Dad’s journal,” I say. “And probably sleep out here until I know more.”

  Kendall nods. “Okay. I’ll bring you some blankets.”

  “Thanks.”

  She hesitates like she wants me to ask her to stay with me. When I don’t, she slips out, leaving me with Juniper.

  “She worries for you,” Juniper says.

  “Likewise,” I say wearily.

  “It’s not easy raising a child. It’s even harder when you’re still a child yourself.”

  “I’m not a kid anymore, Juni.”

  “This world asked too much of you, and you gave it anyway. But you lost yourself. Maybe this”—she nods at my darkened veins—“will help you find the parts you’re missing.”

  My throat tightens as her words hit way too close to the mark. She’s right. I gave up everything to provide for Kendall. I was just sixteen when my parents died. A kid. And then I became an adult and a parent in a single moment. It wasn’t fair but it was my only option. And now… I don’t know if I can put myself back together again. Or how to even begin.

  I sigh. “I don’t have the luxury of thinking about myself, you know that.”

  “She is stronger than you think.”

  “I’m supposed to protect her,” I say. “Not be the one to put her in danger.”

  “Our role isn’t to shield them; it’s to prepare them.”

  Her words are a painful reminder of how little preparation I had to become a single parent of a six-year-old.

  “What am I supposed to do?” I ask, ignoring her attempts to reassure me. It’s a conversation we’ve had before, but tonight, I’m too exhausted and beaten for it. “If my skin is poison, then what?”

  She looks at my cassava plant like it holds the answers. At her attention, the stem moves, angling toward her. Juniper’s nymph blood is a siren call to plants, which is why I don’t usually allow her to spend much time in my shop. Tonight is an exception. One that will probably leave my plants in withdrawals once she’s gone.

  “You will figure it out,” she says decisively. “And in the meantime, I will look after Kendall.”

  Juniper leaves me alone, and I spend two hours poring over my father’s diary. I’ve read it before. Hell, I helped him write many of the entries while he was still alive. But I wasn’t exactly looking out for any mention of dark fae abilities involving poisonous flesh powers, so it bears another look. Unfortunately, my search yields nothing.

  Kendall drops off a blanket at some point, but I end up sleeping in a wooden chair with my head on my desk and wake to the sound of my phone ringing. I reach for it, groaning at the stiffness in my neck and back, and see the caller is Unknown.

  “Hello?” I answer.

  “Tori, I need to speak with you.” Uziah’s voice is gruff and strained.

  A glance out my shop window offers a sky streaked in pink and orange as the sun begins to rise over the horizon.

  “What’s up?” I ask. “You sound like you just went ten rounds at the gym.”

  “Something like that. Can you come by?”

  “Now? The sun’s up.”

  “We should speak in person. Sooner rather than later.”

  I push to my feet, worry coursing through me. Uziah, the vampire who owns Bite Club and sends a considerable amount of business my way, has never asked to see me during the day. “Okay. I’ll be there soon.”

  He ends the call, and I hurry toward my house. Inside, I listen carefully and catch the sounds of Kendall’s even breathing. Creeping silently down the hall, I find her sprawled on the couch, her eyes closed and mouth half-open.

  I shake my head.

  Her perfectly good bed is just down the hall, but she opted for the couch as if that would somehow help me figure things out.

  In my room, I throw on a fresh long-sleeved shirt and pants along with a scarf, hat, and gloves. When I’m satisfied I’ve covered as much of my skin as possible, I make my way into the kitchen where Juniper is sitting at the table with a mug cupped in her hands.

  “Did you find answers?” she asks.

  “No.” I sigh and rub my stiff neck. “Uziah wants to talk. I’m going to the club.”

  “Now?”

  “Yeah, he sounded weird.”

  “Be careful.”

  “Keep an eye on her?”

  “Of course.”

  “Thank you.” I close the door behind me and head for my car parked at the curb. I accepted it as payment from a client a couple of years back. Kendall drives it more than I do, mostly to school and work, but the club is on the far edges of the city, and I’m in no mood for public transport. After tossing food wrappers and three different lip glosses into the backseat, I settle in and head for Uziah’s.

  The club sits just off the road at the edge of town, and while it’s not the worst neighborhood, the empty parking lot and eerie quietness that surrounds it make the hair on my neck stand on end.

  The large front door is unlocked, though, and I make my way inside cautiously. A guard waves me forward.

  “He’s in the back booth,” he says.

  “Thanks,” I mutter.

  The club lights are all off except for the overhead lighting at the back. Uziah sits in the back booth alone, but I see three more guards hovering near the bar and watching me closely.

  “Uziah,” I say as I slide into the booth opposite the male vamp.

  He looks back at me with crimson eyes that are framed by a full head of salt-and-pepper hair right down to his bushy eyebrows and full mustache. “It’s good to see you, kid. You want a drink?”

  “No, I’m okay. What’s up?”

  “Tony, get her a drink,” he says, ignoring my refusal. One of the guards heads around the bar and starts making a drink.

  Uziah studies me in a way that has worry creeping in again.

  “How’d it go last night?” he asks.

  “Last night?”

  “The mark.”

  “I took care of it,” I say, heart thudding. “Why?”

  “Heard there was a commotion afterward.” His expression gives nothing away. And while Uziah and I have always been friendly, I don’t like how this feels. Like a summons to an interrogation. Like I’m accountable to him rather than the client.

  “These things always result in commotion.” Bullshit.

  “Hmm,” he grunts then takes a drink.

  The guard returns, setting a glass in front of me. I don’t pick it up.

  “Do you need me for another task?” I ask.

  “Tell me about the second mark.”

  My heart drums loudly at that. “There was no second mark.”

  “You made a second contact,” he says.

  I hesitate, but he clearly already knows everything.

  “Not exactly.”

  He looks me over, noting the scarf and gloves. “Something you want to tell me?” When I don’t answer, he leans in. “I’ve known you and your family many years, Tori. I hope you know you can tell me anything.”

  I sigh. “I don’t know what happened. A female ran into me. She touched me, and then she fell ill. I… Her exhibited symptoms suggested a lethal poisoning.”

  “Was she a mark?”

  “No,” I say quickly. “I didn’t know her. I…”

  Guilt and fear and worry are a nauseating cocktail in my stomach. I grip the drink, rethinking it. Halfway to my mouth, the smell hits me, and I stop, eyes widening as I look from the liquid to the vampire seated across from me.

  “What is this?” I hiss.

  “Relax. I had to test you.”

  “Test me?” My voice rises. “To see if I was stupid enough to drink poison?”

  His eyes glitter with something I don’t understand. Not malice. Something else. “To see if you’re immune.”

  “Immune to…” I sniff the drink again. “Ricin?” I recoil, knowing how deadly the toxic plant is. “What would give you that idea?”