They must have fleeced him out of thousands of runics so far, but Arius Darkwave didn’t seem to mind.
The green-haired beta wore white linen pants and a pink button-up shirt with a seashell print, making him thankfully easy to spot. He grabbed one of the werewolves by the ass while ramming his tongue down the throat of another, whooping when he finally released her to slam down another shot.
He was probably having the night of his life, and I almost felt bad for being the reason it was about to end.
The Feast of Cethelyne, Tideholm’s patron goddess, was tomorrow, and the whole place was going to be one giant party for the next three days. Magiks from all over Lundaria flocked to the merfolk city-state this time of year, making my job a little more complicated than I liked. It’d be all that much harder to get Darkwave alone, away from the ladies whose company he’d been paying for all day, without anyone noticing.
But I’d made a deal to deliver him back to Halcyon before the week was over, and my deals were unbreakable.
I’d get my bounty or I’d die trying.
A group of elves walked in, and a cute beta brunette with curves for days caught my attention. She tucked a lock of hair behind her pointed ear and then hooked her arm around her friend, her brown, doe eyes wide as she scanned the room. Her face paled when a pack of alpha werewolves began ripping off their shirts and roaring in each other’s faces, while demon women danced on tables in their bikinis. A few witches in the back got high on bruum and spelled the air with pheromones, ramping up the debauchery.
I ground my teeth together when an alpha vamp woman sneaked up behind her, sniffing her neck and preparing to take a bite.
Another distraction I couldn’t afford.
My fingers itched around my glass, and I took a sip to ground myself. I was here for Darkwave, not to protect naive little girls from the consequences of their own poor decision-making.
Nobody came to the Feast of Cethelyne without knowing what to expect, and she looked old enough to be here. Besides, maybe this was the kind of experience she’d wanted. Who was I to step in and “save” her? I was certainly no white knight.
My eyes darted back towards Darkwave, who held up his hand to tell one of his new girlfriends to wait, pointing towards the bathroom.
Time to move.
I slipped from my table and down the hall before him, waiting until he stumbled through. I then took a peek inside, slamming the door shut and pinching my nose as he approached. “Looks like some werewolf totally wrecked the toilet.”
He grumbled to himself, his eyes red and blinking as he tried to think of a solution. I lightly smacked his shoulder and pointed towards the back exit with my thumb. “Come on, we can go piss outside.”
He bobbed his head in a sloppy nod and followed me down the darkened hallway, the thumping music and screaming Feasters fading with each step.
The door squeaked open on hinges rusty from the sea air and swung shut tightly behind us. Darkwave, uneasy on his feet, unzipped his pants and sighed as he relieved himself against the wall in the alley.
I checked the perimeter. To my left, there were bright lights, honking cars, and cheering revelers roving the street in search of another party.
My right was quiet, with my car parked conveniently just out of sight.
A tendril of smoke slowly rose from the palm of my hand, and I let it wind its way around Darkwave’s head towards his mouth. Just as it brushed his skin, he turned around, unhinged his jaw, and shrieked.
I stumbled back and hit the opposite wall, holding my splitting head. It was as if a million little flies with knives were scraping my brain clean from the inside of my skull, making it impossible to think about anything other than wanting it to stop.
By the time the pain cleared, I just barely glimpsed him disappear into the crowd at the busy end of the alley.
Fucking merfolk.
Growling under my breath, I wiped away the blood that dripped from my ears and took off after him before he could reach the shore. The rest of Tideholm was under the water, and nearly impossible for non-merfolk to get to without serious magic.
If I didn’t catch him before he hit the surf, I was screwed.
Young Magiks in varying levels of undress covered every inch of the sidewalk, their bodies painted in glitter and decorated with strands of seaweed and pearls.
A startled witch accidentally spilled her drink on me and in my surprise, I ran straight into an alpha seraph’s wings.
“Watch it, demon!” he yelled, taking a swing I easily dodged.
I didn’t have time for a fair fight, so I subdued him quickly with a hard punch to the gut, leaving him gasping for air as I continued rushing down the street, desperately trying to keep the slippery merfolk in my sights.
I had locked onto his bright hair when the sound of heaving drew my attention and I narrowly escaped a stream of vomit, pivoting at the last second before it landed right on my boots. The smell of partially digested seafood mixed with alcohol almost had me gagging myself.
