The busboy collected the dishes off a nearby table and loaded them onto a cart. When he disappeared into the kitchen, the older gentleman headed in my direction—no detours, no rest stops.
I sensed his energy as he approached. I didn’t know what Breed he was, but we had stronger energy than humans did.
Instead of going to the bathroom, he stopped at my table. “You’re the Shadow, and I’m interested in hiring you.”
I choked on my coffee as he sat across from me. “The what?” While I wiped my mouth with a napkin, I studied him closely. English wasn’t this man’s first language. “Do I know you?”
Amusement danced in his steel-grey eyes. The lines in his forehead and at the corners of his eyes showed he was an expressive man, and not quite as old as I first thought.
He laced his fingers together. “Let’s not play around,” he said, a thick Russian accent rolling off his tongue. While he spoke gruffly, there was a cadence to his voice that was like warm brandy. “You’re the one they whisper about—the one who kills notorious men. Rumors of your existence have a lot of men pissing in their pants.”
I warmed my hands on my coffee cup, trying to figure him out. Energy from Breed varied on many levels, and I couldn’t ascertain what he was from that. “Why did you call me the Shadow?”
“You do not know?” His brows arched, deepening the grooves in his forehead. “I am looking at an urban legend who has taken down some of the most elusive outlaws that not even the authorities could catch. People call you the Shadow because no one has seen your face, just hair spun from midnight. Some call you the angel of death, others call you the Ferryman.”
“Shadow is better,” I said, swirling a fry in a pile of ketchup. “Ferryman sounds like we should be on a gondola in Italy.”
His pale eyes ruled out a Vampire or Chitah. He still hadn’t flared, so unless he was concealing his energy, I didn’t think he was a Mage either.
“What are you?” I asked, sliding my plate aside and resting my forearms on the table.
“Shifter,” he said, scrutinizing me with his eyes.
Shifters lived hundreds of years, maybe longer, and aged slowly. By the looks of him, he was probably a few hundred years old.
He pinched his chin. “You are rough around the edges, but I think with the right help you could be one of the best.”
“The best what?”
“We do all kinds of jobs, and I only select people who stand out from all the rest. You have an impressive track record of kills. What motivates you?”
“Good fries.”
Who was this guy? Coming in like the Soviet KGB, and I hadn’t even had my pie yet.
“Let me make this clear: it is not important why you hunt these men, only that you do it well. I want to make you an offer, and you should carefully consider my proposal because this opportunity will only come once. You can refuse, but if you change your mind, the offer will be off the table.”
Betty appeared to my right, warming my coffee with a refill. “Can I get you something?” she asked the gentleman.
“Nyet, thank you,” he replied warmly with a brisk nod of his head.
She turned to me, concern brimming in her eyes. “Honey, do you want a second helping?”
“No, ma’am. But if it wouldn’t be too much trouble, do you have any pie?”
Betty chuckled and patted my hand. “I have the apple pie all warmed up for you. I know it’s your favorite. Let me finish up something and I’ll bring it right over.”
“Ice cream?”
“You betcha.”
I smiled in gratitude. “You’re a lifesaver. Anyone ever tell you that?”
She walked off, just a small pear-shape of a woman, but she was a godsend.
“You are generous to the humans,” my companion noted absently. “My name is Viktor Kazan. Do you come with a name, or should I just keep calling you the Shadow?”
I bit into my last chicken finger and decided introductions weren’t going to kill me. “Raven.”
