It wasn’t signed.

I put it in the trash pile and bent to scoop up what was sure to be a dick pic. Since I wasn’t on social media and didn’t even have an email address, a few marks turned admirers took to sending me real pictures of their junk. I honestly had no idea why, since I couldn’t tell them apart. Yet that didn’t stop them from taking part in this strange sort of mating ritual for the hopelessly ignorant.

“C’mere, little willy, time to see the inside of the trash can.” My fingers hit off the edge and accidentally flipped it over.

I felt my brow furrow, wondering if it was Photoshop, until I saw the hand scrawled Durant and the arrow pointing to clothing filled out like a person wore them, without the person actually pictured.

Much like a vampire wouldn’t show up in a photo.

I snatched it up.

Ropes wound around an invisible body, indenting a shirt and pants. Out from the shirt hovered the top of a wooden post. Fire starters, those logs you bought in the store to light a fire, were piled up to mid-calf area on the pant.

That had to be a joke, since fire logs produced a slow smolder, not a proper burn.

I could just make out stone a ways behind the scene, dirty gray. The color and texture matched the Google Maps image of the meeting site. I checked the return address. Yes, the same place.

Darius’s clothing was different than when I’d last seen him. If it was him, and I had no reason to assume it wasn’t since I wouldn’t care about any other vampire, he must’ve made it to the lair, since I’d gone back to his house that night and he hadn’t been there. That didn’t tell me if the mage had sought Darius out, or vice versa.

So Mr. All Powerful had trapped Mr. Handsome. That would be fun to rub in Darius’s face.

Looking over the picture again, I focused on the rope. No way could normal rope keep a vampire put. He could easily rip out of it in his human form, or change to his monster form for an even easier escape. That rope had to be magical. Or else a spell was keeping him put and the rope was for show. Yes, that fit with the fire logs and the nature of the mage’s note. Cute.

I dropped the picture onto the letter and sat for a moment, staring at nothing. Thinking.

I glanced at the window, then the clock by my bedside table, which wasn’t working. I checked my phone. Four ten. Dawn wasn’t far away. If I stormed the gates now, I’d have a better chance of breaking in before they got all their defenses up. Then again, if they’d dropped off the letter earlier in the night, they were ready for me.

The other problem was that if I went now and got Darius out of there, he’d get fried by the sun. I wasn’t sure how exactly that would work with the contract, but killing a high-level vampire probably wouldn’t make me any friends, even if I still got paid. I already had one vampire pissed at me for killing a bond-mate—probably; I still didn’t have any proof—and I’d rather not make any more enemies.

So that meant tomorrow—or today, rather—evening, sundown.

I had a whole day to obsess. Great.

My mind flitted over the message. I’ll show you mine if you show me yours. Let’s make a deal.

Let’s make a deal was clear enough, and I had a feeling it had to do with my power. Maybe he wanted me to stop breaking their spells? Or use my abilities to help them out? Whatever it was, the answer would be no.

What was with the showing-and-telling bit? A dick pic made sense with that line, but a surly vampire tied up to a post, ready to be burned at the stake by logs that didn’t do much more than glow?

I tapped my finger against my lips.

Fire.

Somehow, the mage knew I could magically create fire. How, I wondered, and did he know what kind?

I continued to tap my finger against my lips, thinking about the demon the mage was using. Wondering if I’d strayed close to the mage without having known it.

What else could it be?

Unless Margaret had somehow seen my getting John’s book, and blabbed when the powerful mage was questioning her…

My finger kept tapping.

The windows were covered. I didn’t see how that was possible.

In a sudden movement, I scooped all the paper off my bed, crumpled it up, and threw it in the trash. I didn’t know what was going on, but it didn’t matter. The mage was cheating in the game of magic, he had a surly vampire I wanted back, if only for the fantastic dinners he put on, and—bottom line—he had my meal ticket to a better, less stress-riddled life. He could light the whole place on fire, shoot hellfire at me, and decorate the building in spells…

I was tired of playing. I was going to get what was mine.

Chapter Twenty-One

I slung my stained, frayed-edged, modified satchel over my shoulder and let it drape across my body. It was smaller than the version everyone else used, with an extra strap that kept it close to my side. When the flap was pulled back, there were compartments on the inside for easy grabbing on the run. I used to wear it all the time, but since I stopped being able to fill it with spells, the small leather pouch was a better option. Certainly a nicer-looking option.

My sword warmed my back and my gun was secured to my upper thigh. I buckled a knife to my ankle for overkill, because if the gun didn’t work, and the spells didn’t work, and my magic didn’t work, a knife certainly wouldn’t save the day. Still, you never knew.

“Right, then.” I took a deep breath and glanced out the window. The dying light put a hard edge on everything. Sundown was right around the corner.

I walked out of my room and down the hall, my head held high and butterflies in my stomach. Usually I went after one person. Occasionally two. I’d never taken on a whole army before. Especially not alone.

This wasn’t smart.

I was doing it anyway.

I reached my front door and kicked it. The wood fell away and tumbled down the steps. It felt good. Destruction!

A moment later, I hauled the door back to its former glory, leaning it against the gaping hole into my half-burned house. I didn’t need anyone telling the landlord on me, if they hadn’t already. I’d have to confront him eventually, but I figured I might as well wait, since there was a chance I wouldn’t survive.

The cab I’d called pulled up as I finished, ready to go. I climbed in and gave the address, breathing through the anxiety. My stomach flipped and tingles of nervousness radiated through my chest. The breathing wasn’t helping.

I thought about all the spells I had and where I’d put them in my satchel. Sometimes all I had was a split second to grab something—I needed to make sure it was the right something.

“You going to a costume party?”

I looked up in confusion, not having expected chatter. The cab driver was looking at me in the rearview mirror.

I glanced down at my leather pants, then touched my leather halter top. Leather covered my lower arms up to my elbows as well, leaving holes for my fingers.

“I work with fire.” I looked out the window, a subtle hint that I didn’t want to talk.

“You’re worried about your arms but not your stomach?”

He had clearly missed the hint.

I could feel the frown creasing my features. “I have hair on my arms, not my stomach.”

“What about your head?”

I grabbed the headrest in front of me, anger filling my body. With my finger, I made a circle around my face. “Does this look like the face of a girl who likes small talk?”

His eyes rounded in surprise. He went back to driving. Blessed silence filled the cab.

A half-hour later, I argued with him about where to let me off, finally convincing him that a dodgy side road near my destination was the right spot. He wanted to make sure I got there safely, but he also wanted to keep his nose on his face. The desire for an intact nose finally won out.

My foot crunched on the gravel as I stepped out of the cab. The dull thunk of the car door set my decision in stone—this was happening. Final, final. No turning back unless I wanted a long walk.

The eight hundredth deep breath of the night done, I started on my way, trying not to turn around and yell at the cabbie to come back. The sound of insects replaced the hum of the motor, reminding me that I was on my own. Each footstep was a crunch in the direction of a crap-load of mages who wanted to do me harm.