Page 4 of The Duplicity of Thieves

“Who are you looking at?” Clo doesn’t automatically turn in her seat to look, and I’m grateful.

I tear myself from his gaze. “Some playboy.”

“Is he cute?” she asks, distracted by her new admirers.

“Better than those two,” I snicker.

“You always manage to find the hottest guy in the pub.” She sips her drink and winks at the men financing our night. “What’s your secret? Do you have Magic or something?”

A few people around us quiet and step away. Magic is a taboo topic meant to be spoken in hushed tones, not shouted in a bar.

Before the Republic was declared, the Remnant lived across the Underworld. It’s our rightful home. When Hades was taking the throne, the Titans were sent here to eradicate us in what later became known as the Burning. We were hunted and murdered in the name of the Magic our ancestors allegedly possessed. We were burned in droves until we escaped to the Forest of the Damned to avoid persecution, and created the Republic within it. That’s why we’re called the Remnant. We’re the descendants of the only ones who survived. The Burning instilled fear in people, and all these centuries later everyone is still afraid to speak about Magic.

“Another round from the guys over there.” The waitress slams more goblets in front of us and whisks the empty ones away.

“One more and we’ll have to say hello.” Clo gives them a sultry grin.

I drink it down. “I will only be there as moral support.”

Clo and the men keep making eyes at each other, and I search for the man who had been watching me. He’s gone, but his friends are still sitting there.

“Well, you two certainly hit the jackpot tonight,” the waitress grumbles, giving us more drinks. I’ll be drunk before we know it.

Clo’s face is already flush. “Well?”

“I know. I know. Third time is the charm.” I grab my drink, and we head over. I sit in a free chair as far from them as possible, whereas Clo goes ahead and sits on one man’s lap. They giggle and flirt for a while before I excuse myself to the bar.

“So, they’re enamored with each other, huh?” The friend of the man Clo is practically dry humping, who I’ve hardly even noticed, squeezes in next to me. I was hoping he would catch my drift when I left. I tap my fingers anxiously on the counter, praying that the bartender will come over soon.

“Yup,” I say crisply.

He sips obnoxiously from his straw. “I’m Deerak. What’s your name?”

“Deerak? You mean Derek?” I snort.

“No.” He doesn’t find it amusing. “It’s Deerak. Not Derek.”

I roll my eyes and turn back to the bar.“Sounds a lot like Derek to me.”

Deerak sighs and tries again. “I haven’t seen you here before.”

There’s that fated line that leads to instant death, not that he was getting anywhere with me in the first place. He takes another sip, the straw slurping, slurping, slurping.

“Can you not?” I tear it from his cup and toss it over the bar.

“Attitude much?”

Something inside of me starts to crack. Initially, I was aggravated. I do my best to keep my temper in check, but tonight I’m in a mood. For that comment? I’m going to eat him alive. I can’t stop it.

“Excuse me.” The voice behind me is like velvet. Whoever it is looms over me, casting a shadow.

The man that had been watching me earlier is standing behind me, almost touching. He is intimidatingly tall, and muscular enough to win a fight. He’s wearing a long black leather overcoat with a black shirt. Black pants, torn in the knees, feed into mud-encrusted leather boots. Tattoos creep out of his collar and up his neck, ending at his chin. Deerak shrinks away at first, then tries to recover, puffing his chest like an ugly bird.

“We were talking here,” Deerak snaps as the newcomer slides between us.

“What’s your name?” the stranger asks me.

“Deerak. Now fuck off.” Deerak is bold. I’ll give him that.

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