“That’s the one,” Bryce hissed, her face paling.

  They all studied the still—the Reaper was half-turned to the camera as it entered the frame from a street near the Black Dock. He was taller than the others, but had the same grayish, soft face and those terrifying teeth.

  Athalar whistled. “You sure know how to pick them, Quinlan.”

  She scowled at the angel, but asked Dec, “Where’s it coming from? Can you add its face to the program and run a search on the city’s footage?”

  Declan’s brows rose. “You know how long that will take? Every camera in Lunathion? It’s why we’re not even doing it for Emile. It’d take … I can’t even calculate how long we’d need.”

  “Okay, okay,” Bryce said. “But can we … track this one for a while?” She directed the last bit at Ithan, but the wolf shook his head.

  “There must be a logical reason for this—like a gap in the camera coverage or something—but that Reaper just seems to … appear.”

  “Micah had the kristallos stay in known camera gaps,” Hunt said darkly. “These Reapers could know about them, too.”

  Ithan pointed to the screen. “Right here is where they first appear. Before that, nothing.”

  Ruhn pulled up a map of the city in his Aux app. “There should be a sewer entrance right behind them. Possible they came out of there?”

  Ithan moved the footage around. “The cameras don’t cover that sewer entrance.”

  Bryce said, “So they probably knew it’d be a good entry point. And it’d make sense, given that they dragged us into the sewers.” Where there were no cameras at all.

  “Let me look around a little more,” Ithan offered, and clicked away.

  Athalar asked none of them in particular, “You think they were waiting for you, or for Emile?”

  “Or both?” Ruhn asked. “Clearly, they wanted to stay hidden.”

  “But did the Prince of the Pit send them, or did the Under-King?” Athalar pushed.

  “Good thing we’ve got a date with the being who can answer that,” Bryce said.

  Ruhn winced. He’d paid for the Death Marks that Jesiba had promised, but he wasn’t happy about it. The thought of Bryce confronting the Under-King scared the Hel out of him.

  “We need a plan for how we question him,” Athalar warned her. “I doubt he’ll appreciate being questioned at all.”

  “Hence the research,” Bryce shot back, gesturing to the computer. “You think I’m stupid enough to go in and fling accusations around? If we can confirm whether or not those Reapers came directly from the Bone Quarter, we’ll have steadier footing when we question him. And if we can get any hint of Emile actually going over to the Bone Quarter, then we’ll have a good reason to ask him about that, too.”

  Ithan added, “Considering what Tharion thinks Pippa Spetsos has done while hunting for Emile, I’m half hoping the kid’s already in the Bone Quarter.” He dragged a hand through his short brown hair. “What she did to that selkie we found this morning was no joke.”

  The wolf had filled them all in on the work he’d done with Tharion earlier—the tortured body they suspected had been left behind by the rebel fanatic.

  Bryce pivoted and began pacing. Syrinx trotted at her heels, whining for a second dinner. Ruhn refrained from remarking on how similar the motion was to one he’d seen their father do so many times in his study. Unable to stand it, he turned back to the sunball game.

  Then Ithan said to Ruhn, picking up the thread of conversation from earlier, “See? Regez should have nailed that shot, but he balked. He’s second-guessing himself. He’s too deep in his head.”

  Ruhn glanced sidelong at the male. “You’ve never thought about playing again?”

  A muscle ticked in Ithan’s jaw. “No.”

  “You miss it?”

  “No.”

  It was an obvious lie. Ruhn didn’t fail to note that Bryce’s eyes had softened.

  But Ithan didn’t so much as look in her direction. So Ruhn nodded to the wolf. “If you ever want to play a pickup game, me, Dec, and Flynn usually play with some of the Aux in Oleander Park over in Moonwood on Sundays.”

  “Where’s my invite?” Bryce asked, scowling.

  But Ithan said roughly, “Thanks. I’ll think about it.”

  Hunt asked, “I’m assuming I don’t get an invite, either, Danaan?”

  Ruhn snorted at the angel. “You want an excuse for me to beat the shit out of you, Athalar, then I’m down.”

  Athalar smirked, but his gaze drifted to Bryce, who was now staring over Declan’s shoulder at the lightning-fast footage zooming by on his laptop. Footage of Danika from years ago.

  She straightened suddenly. Cleared her throat. “I’m going down to the gym. Call me if you find anything.” She aimed for her bedroom, presumably to change. Ruhn watched Hunt glance between her disappearing form and the sunball game. Weighing which one to follow.

  It took Athalar all of thirty seconds to decide. He ducked into his room, saying he was going to change for the gym.

  When Ruhn was alone with Dec and Ithan, his beer half-finished, Ithan said, “Connor would have picked the game.”

  Ruhn raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t realize it was a competition between them.” Between a dead male and a living one.

  Ithan just typed away, eyes darting over the screen.

  And for some reason, Ruhn dared ask, “What would you have picked?”

  Ithan didn’t hesitate. “Bryce.”

  27

  Bryce didn’t go to the gym. Not yet, anyway. She waited in front of the elevator, and when Hunt appeared, she tapped her wrist and said, “You’re late. Let’s go.”

  He halted. “We’re not working out?”

  She rolled her eyes, stepping into the elevator and hitting the Lobby button. “Honestly, Athalar. We’ve got a kid to find.”

  “You really think Emile is here? What about the Bone Quarter?” Hunt asked as Bryce strode through the warren of stalls that made up one of the Meat Market’s many warehouses. There was no missing her, not with her neon-pink sneakers and athletic gear, that high ponytail that swished back and forth, brushing tantalizingly close to the glorious curve of her ass. “The Reapers practically told you that he and Sofie are lying low over there. You’re having Emmet and Holstrom comb through footage because you think Emile’s over there.”

  She paused at an open seating area, surveying the crammed array of tables and the diners hunched over them. “Forgive me if I don’t take those half-lifes at their word. Or want to wait around while Declan and Ithan stare at their screens. Jesiba said the coins will arrive tomorrow, so why not look at alternatives in the meantime? What Danika said … Where the weary souls find relief … Couldn’t that be here, too?”

  “Why would Danika tell them to lie low in the Meat Market?”

  “Why tell them to lie low in the Bone Quarter?” She sniffed and sighed with longing toward a bowl of noodle soup.

  Hunt said, “Even if Danika or Sofie told Emile it was safe to hide out, if I were a kid, I wouldn’t have come here.”

  “You were a kid, like, a thousand years ago. Forgive me if my childhood is a little more relevant.”

  “Two hundred years ago,” he muttered.

  “Still old as fuck.”

  He pinched her ass and she squeaked, batting him away, drawing more than a few eyes. Not exactly inconspicuous. How long until the Viper Queen heard they were here? Hunt tried not to bristle at the thought. He had zero interest in dealing with the shape-shifter tonight.

  Hunt marked the faces that turned their way, the ones who moved off into the stalls and shadows. “And if this is where Sofie told him to hide, Sofie was a fool for listening to Danika. Though I really doubt Danika would have suggested it as a rendezvous point.”

  Bryce glared at him over a shoulder. “This kid stole two boats and made it all the way here. I think he can handle the Meat Market.”

  “Okay, buying that, you think he’s simply going to be sitting at a table, twiddling his thumbs? You’re no better than Cormac, stomping around the docks for any sign of this kid.” Hunt shook his head. “If you do find Emile, don’t forget you’ll have Tharion and Cormac fighting you for him.”

  She patted his cheek. “Then it’s a good thing I have the Umbra Mortis at my side, huh?”

  “Bryce,” he growled. “Be reasonable. I mean, look at where we are right now. This market’s huge. Are we going to search through every warehouse ourselves?”

  “Nope.” Bryce put her hands on her hips. “That’s why I brought backup.”

  Hunt’s brows rose. She lifted her hand, waving at someone across the space. He followed her line of attention. Let out a low growl. “You didn’t.”

  “You’re not the only badass I know, Athalar,” she trilled, approaching Fury and Juniper, the former in her usual all black, the latter in tight jeans and a flowing white blouse. “Hi, friends,” Bryce said, smiling. She kissed June’s cheek as if they were meeting for brunch, then gave Fury a once-over. “I said casual clothes.”

  “These are her casual clothes,” Juniper said, laughter in her eyes.

  Fury crossed her arms, ignoring them as she said to Hunt, “Gym clothes? Really?”

  “I thought I was going to the gym,” he grumbled.

  Bryce waved him off. “All right. We divide and conquer. Try not to attract too much attention.” The last bit she directed at Hunt and Fury, and the merc glowered with impressive menace. “Don’t ask questions. Just watch—listen. June, you take the east stalls, Fury the west ones, Hunt the south, and me …” Her gaze drifted to the northern wall, where Memento Mori had been painted. The stalls beneath it—beneath the walkway above—lay within range of the door to the Viper Queen’s quarters.

  Fury eyed her, but Bryce winked. “I’m a big girl, Fury. I’ll be fine.”

  Hunt grunted, but suppressed any hint of objection.

  “That’s not what I’m worried about,” Fury said. Then asked quietly, “Who is this kid again?”

  “His name is Emile,” Bryce whispered. “He’s from Pangera. Thirteen years old.”

  “And possibly very, very dangerous,” Hunt warned, glancing at Juniper. “If you spot him, come find us.”

  “I can take care of myself, angel,” Juniper said with impressive cool.

  “She’s a big girl, too.” Bryce high-fived her friend. “Right. Meet back here in thirty?”

  They parted, and Hunt watched Bryce weave through the tables of the dining area—watched the many patrons note her, but keep well away—before slipping between the stalls. Gazes slid back to him, questioning. Hunt bared his teeth in a silent snarl.

  Moving off toward the area she’d ordered him to sweep, Hunt opened his senses, calmed his breathing.

  Thirty minutes later, he’d returned to the dining area, Juniper appearing a moment later. “Anything?” he asked the faun, who shook her head.

  “Not a whisper.” The dancer frowned. “I really hope that kid isn’t here.” She scowled at the warehouse. “I hate this place.”

  “That makes two of us,” Hunt said.

  Juniper rubbed at her chest. “You should talk to Celestina about it—the things that happen here. Not only that fighting pit and the warriors the Viper Queen practically enslaves …” The faun shook her head. “The other things, too.”

  “Even Micah let the Viper Queen do what she wanted,” Hunt said. “I don’t think the new Governor is going to challenge her anytime soon.”

  “Someone should,” she said quietly, eyes drifting to the Memento Mori on the wall. “Someday, someone should.”

  Her words were haunted and strained enough that Hunt opened his mouth to ask more, but Fury sauntered up, smooth as a shadow, and said, “No sign of the kid.”

  Hunt searched the space for Bryce, and found her at a stall far too close to the Fae-guarded door to the Viper Queen’s private living area. The towering Fae sentries a mere fifty feet from her didn’t so much as blink at her presence, though. She had a bag swinging from her wrist, and she was chatting away.

  Bryce finished and walked toward them. Again, too many eyes watched her.

  “She’s got some pep in her step,” Juniper observed, chuckling. “She must have gotten a good bargain.”

  The tang of blood and bone and meat stuffed itself up Hunt’s nose as Bryce approached. “I got some lamb bones from the butcher for Syrinx. He goes crazy for the marrow.” She added to Juniper, “Sorry.”

  Right. The faun was a vegetarian. But Juniper shrugged. “Anything for the little guy.”

  Bryce smiled, then surveyed them all. “Nothing?”

  “Nothing,” Hunt said.

  “Me neither,” Bryce said, sighing.

  “What now?” Fury asked, monitoring the crowd.

  “Even if Declan and Ithan can’t find any footage of Emile around the Black Dock,” Bryce said, “the fact that there’s no hint of him here at the Meat Market leads us right back to the Bone Quarter again. So it gives us a bit more reason to even ask the Under-King about whether Emile is there.”

  Hunt’s blood sparked. When she talked like that, so sure and unflinching … His balls tightened. He couldn’t wait to show her just how insanely that turned him on.

  But Juniper whispered, “A little boy in the Bone Quarter …”

  “We’ll find him,” Bryce assured her friend, and threw an arm around Juniper’s shoulders, turning them toward the exit. Hunt swapped a look with Fury, and they followed. Hunt let Bryce and Juniper drift ahead a few feet, and then, when he was sure they wouldn’t be overheard, asked Axtar, “Why does your girlfriend hate this place so much?”

  Fury kept her attention on the shadows between the stalls, the vendors and shoppers. “Her brother was a fighter here.”

  Hunt started. “Does Bryce know?”

  Fury nodded shallowly. “He was talented—Julius. The Viper Queen recruited him from his training gym, promised him riches, females, everything he wanted if he signed himself into her employ. What he got was an addiction to her venom, putting him in her thrall, and a contract with no way out.” A muscle ticked in Fury’s jaw. “June’s parents tried everything to get him freed. Everything. Lawyers, money, pleas to Micah for intervention—none of it worked. Julius died in a fight ten years ago. June and her parents only learned about it because the Viper Queen’s goons dumped his body on their doorstep with a note that said Memento Mori on it.”

  The elegant dancer strode arm-in-arm with Bryce. “I had no idea.”

  “June doesn’t talk about it. Even with us. But she hates this place more than you can imagine.”

  “So why’d she come?” Why had Bryce even invited her?

  “For Bryce,” Fury said simply. “Bryce told her she didn’t have to join, but she wanted to come with us. If there’s a kid running around lost in this place, June would do anything to help find him. Even come here herself.”

  “Ah,” Hunt said, nodding.

  Fury’s eyes glittered with dark promise. “I’ll burn this place to the ground for her one day.”

  Hunt didn’t doubt it.

  An hour later, Bryce’s arms and stomach trembled as she held her plank on the floor of her apartment building’s gym, sweat dripping off her brow and onto the soft black mat beneath. Bryce focused on the droplet as it splattered, on the music thumping in her earbuds, on breathing through her nose—anything other than the clock.

  Time itself had slowed. Ten seconds lasted a minute. She pushed her heels back, steadying her body. Two minutes down. Three more to go.

  Before the Drop, she’d usually managed a decent minute in this position. After it, in her immortal body, five minutes should be nothing.

  Master her powers, indeed. She needed to master her body first. Though she supposed magic was ideal for lazy people: she didn’t need to be able to hold a plank for ten minutes if she could just unleash her power. Hel, she could blind someone while sitting down if she felt like it.

  She chuckled at the idea, horrible as it was: her lounging in an oversize armchair, taking down enemies as easily as if she were changing the channel with a remote. And she did have enemies now, didn’t she? She’d killed a fucking Reaper today.

  As soon as those Death Marks arrived from Jesiba tomorrow morning, she’d demand answers from the Under-King.

  It was why she’d come down here—not only to validate her excuse for leaving the apartment. Well, that and seeing Danika on Declan’s laptop as it scanned through footage. Her head had begun spinning and acid had been burning through her veins, and sweating it all out seemed like a good idea. It always worked in Madame Kyrah’s classes.

  She owed June a massive box of pastries for coming tonight.

  Bryce checked the clock on her phone. Two minutes fifteen seconds. Fuck this. She plopped onto her front, elbows splaying, and laid her face directly on the mat.

  A moment later, a foot prodded her ribs. Since there was only one other person in the gym, she didn’t bother to be alarmed as she craned her neck to peer up at Hunt. His lips were moving, sweat beading his brow and dampening his tight gray T-shirt—gods-damn it. How could he look so good?

  She tugged an earbud out. “What?” she asked.

  “I asked if you were alive.”

  “Barely.”

  His mouth twitched, and he lifted the hem of his T-shirt up to clean his dripping face. She was rewarded with a glimpse of sweat-slicked abs. Then he said, “You dropped like a corpse.”

  She cradled her arms, rubbing the sore muscles. “I prefer running. This is torture.”

  “Your dance classes are equally grueling.”

  “This isn’t as fun.”

  He offered her a hand, and Bryce took it, her sweaty skin sliding against his as he hauled her to her feet.

  She wiped at her face with the back of her arm, but found it to be equally sweaty. Hunt returned to the array of metal machines that seemed more like torture devices, adjusting the seat on one to accommodate his gray wings. She stood in the center of the room like a total creep for a moment, watching his back muscles ripple as he went through a series of pull-down exercises.

  Burning fucking Solas.