“But it’s okay, sweetheart, cause I know you’d only come back here if you were successful.” Cole’s face shifted as he spoke, his grin exposing white teeth, eyes narrowing and anger simmering beneath his words. “I know you’d never show your face here, of all fucking places, if you were empty handed.”
Empty-handed? So, she was sent to retrieve something.
Cole laughed, a wild, unhinged sound. “I know you did not just waltz back to my apartment,that I fucking pay for, to try and leave without fulfilling your part of our deal.”
Cole was short for a fae. He had never worn extravagant colors in all the years Kieran knew him and he’d alwaysbeen considered comely by their peers growing up, but now, it seemed, he embraced a calling for bright, jewel tones and textured details. A fur ruffle on his collar, leather pants, overlarge silver buttons on a loosened black cotton shirt. It was hard to take him seriously as a threat when he looked like a parade float decorated by ten-year-olds.
“I have it,” Sera said, drawing Kieran’s curiosity as his fingers closed around something solid.
He pulled a spoke lathe from its mount on the undercarriage, not as elegant as his preferred weapon, but it would do damage. Normally, it would be made of iron, but Kieran replaced all traces of iron with faery refined steel.
“I hid it,” she added, with clearly feigned confidence.
Cole’s smile faltered, his gaze pinning her to the sidewalk. “You hid it.”
“Yes. And… I’ll tell you where if you let me and Seth walk.”
“You don’t make the fucking rules here, Sera.” He snapped his fingers and the two lackey’s stepped to his side, ready to ambush. “Tell me where you hid my property, you little bitch.”
Enough. Kieran broke cover and strolled across the street. Cole’s attention drifted when he first appeared, then locked onto him, expression morphing into something between contempt and fury.
“Evening, Cole.” Kieran purposefully avoided the man’s surname, to drive home the fact that he harbored no respect for him. Cole had always been a bully, even as kids. He’d torment his own brother in the name of ‘fun,’ since Varian was smaller.
Kieran continued to advance, watching the lackeys in his peripheral as he kept his attention on Cole. He positioned himself in front of Sera. “If you’ll please release my new employees and allow them to gather their things in peace. I have a schedule to keep.”
Cole’s skin was fair, like most Winter Fae, but with an ashen, gray pallor now tinted red with heated anger.
“You fucking cunt, you broughthim,” Cole sneered, and the shadow reached for Sera, converging on her in wisps of darkness. Another snap of his fingers and the lackey to Cole’s left rushed forward.
Kieran set the lathe across the demon’s path—there was no mistaking the faint green pigment on the outer edges of her otherwise pale skin, nor the jut of horns from her braided twists of hair. She set a long-nailed hand on the lathe and Kieran rooted his stance while swinging out with careful finesse.
The lathe wasn’t sharp, but solid and heavy. The demon was knocked backward, rubbing her chest.
“No violence necessary. Sera will be out of your hair shortly.” Kieran extended his arm and signaled to Joy. She jumped to the street and began to gather the luggage.
Kieran had studied swordsmanship and boxing as part of a well-rounded curriculum at Breaton, a college in the country. While he was no combat trained guardian, he was confident in his abilities. He did not, however, like the odds of three versus two. Best to deescalate the situation.
Cole held up a hand to stop the other lackey at his shoulder from pouncing, casting his eyes around the street. This was Wraith’s territory and Cole wasn't likely to risk crossing him by inciting violence in the open. “Seth stays.” His voice lacked the jovial, booming tone, now sharp and cruel. “Clearly you’ve got some sort of deal with Sera. Fine. She outgrew her usefulness anyway. In more ways than one.” Cole sent her a stare meant to sharpen the insult. “But what do you need with Seth? He’s a Summer. And Iknowhe’s not your type.”
“Summer or no, I’m afraid he’s coming too.” Kieran listened to the movement behind him, keeping his eyes on Cole and company. He heard Joy’s raspy whisper to Sera and Seth to getin the carriage. Their luggage would be stowed and secured by now, he had heard the clothes being stuffed back into the bag and the latches on the carriage storage compartment.
Cole’s eyes followed the movement, but he did not try to pass Kieran. They had been children together. He knew Kieran did not bluff.
“I’ve got powerful friends now, North. You’re going to regret this. All of you are.”
Kieran sighed, letting the gesture ripple throughout his body in an obvious display of mild irritation. “Yes, I suppose I will.”
“You hear me, Sera?” Cole yelled, still not willing to physically cross the invisible line Kieran had drawn. “You’re really fucked now.”
Should he kill Cole? It was the prudent choice. It would solve a great many problems. Kieran adjusted the lathe, tilting his head as he envisioned a lethal strike. It wasn’t the sporting choice, true, and the guards were sure to react unfavorably, but the good of ending Cole here and now would counterbalance any foul play. It was morally gray, at worst.
Cole’s gaze followed Kieran’s extend his arm, eyes growing wider. Over Cole’s shoulder, a fizzling, rippling shadow couldn’t decide if it should take hold.
Kieran lowered his arm and the shadow vanished in a tiny puff of smoke. Cole was spared for now. Kieran’s business was subverting death, not helping it. No matter how appealing.
Joy turned the carriage around, aligning directly with Kieran’s stand-off. Cole’s eyes were murderous, glued to Kieran’s every move, but he did not advance. Once back in the carriage, Kieran had one final look at Cole’s seething rage before he shut the door.
Breathing out relief, Kieran set the lathe on the seat next to him. He’d have to get some proper weapons now, but he had no doubt Joy would see to it, if he knew her at all. His backstiffened. Joy was becoming a bit too familiar with him. The fact that she felt close enough to teasingly callout his oversights and his easy slip into agitation at her comments. It was time to find a new driver.
