Page 4 of Guarded By the Phantom

When he finally let his fist fly, I merely stepped back, just enough so his knuckles grazed my shoulder. I didn’t feel it through my armor.

“Do you call that a hit?” I asked, laughing at him. “Jordan, please. Even the coma girl could dodge this.”

He grunted, swaying on his feet, and swung again. This time, I didn’t make a show of avoiding him. Before his hand connected with my body, I jabbed up, hitting his elbow from below. I redirected his momentum hard enough to make him topple onto his back. He loosed a scream, instantly swallowed by the gag. I straddled him and pressed my blade to his throat.

“Guess I’ll have to kill you after all.”

Tears streamed from his eyes, and he made pathetic noises, begging me with intelligible words. I gripped his chin and turned his face this way and that, regarding him. The chase was good, but the whole experience was barely enough. Could I make it last a few more minutes?

As I resolved to carve him a few more new ones, my comm set buzzed, announcing an incoming call. I tsked and accepted.

“How’s your pro bono going?” Fatima, my superior, asked.

She was a djinn, and they were mostly nocturnal creatures, though she worked in the daytime, too. But it wasn’t unusual to hear from her in the middle of the night.

“Oh, you know,” I said, gripping Jordan’s head by the hair to raise it as far as it would go. “Sleeping like a princess.”

I slammed his head down into the concrete. It burst like a watermelon, his skull flattening as blood spread underneath. His face was slack, eyes empty. He was dead.

“And what was that noise?” she asked.

“Just some trash I had to take out. You know how it is. Got something for me?”

“Yes,” she said, and I heard papers shuffling. “But only after you’re done with the pro bono.”

“I think I’m done with it.” I couldn’t keep the shit-eating grin off my face. “The threat is no longer in the picture. All perfectly above board, of course. He attacked me, so what was I supposed to do?”

Fatima sighed, the sound as dry as the sands of Sahara. “Oh, he attacked you? How convenient. Well, save it for your report, which I expect in the morning. Once you wrap up this case, come into the office, will you? I’ll fill you in on the new job.”

I stood up with a grunt, glancing one last time at the bloody remains of Jordan. There was a nagging sense of dissatisfaction. None of this had been enough, which worried me. This sort of experience used to sate my bloodlust for months to come. And now, I still itched for more violence, more baiting, another toe to toe dance, maybe this time with a competent adversary.

Yeah, this had to be it. Jordan had been too easy to control. I needed a real challenge. Something to truly excite me, grab me by the throat and shake up my world.

Hopefully, my next job would provide.

“Give me a hint?” I suggested, getting my black cigarette case from my belt. “Who’s my new sleeping princess to protect?”

I heard the frown in Fatima’s voice. “Now, that’s uncanny. How did you know? She’s a real princess, Phantom—or as close as you get without flying to Europe, I guess. Name’s Barbara Ashford-Kingsley, and she requires round-the-clock protection from none other than you. I know what you’ll say, and I’m not happy about it, either.”

I bristled instantly. “That’s Senator Kingsley’s daughter, isn’t it? I don’t work in the spotlight. I won’t do it.”

“There isn’t anyone else,” Fatima growled. “Look, I know you’ll probably fuck something up and give us bad press. I’m ready to clean up your mess, whatever it is, but we have no choice. You’re the only person who can protect this girl. I’ll send you a video. You’ll change your mind after you watch it.”

She disconnected, and I lit my cigarette with a curse, waiting for the video to come through. Whatever it was, it better be good.

Because I’d rather volunteer as a nanny than be some spoiled princess’s lapdog bodyguard.

Chapter 2

Barbara

The video made me nauseous even though I barely understood what happened in it. I blinked at the phone my mother held in front of my face, the skin around her blood-red nails pale from how hard she gripped it. She just woke me up with a rough shake and showed me the screen.

The woman in the video—who lookedexactlylike me, not a hair out of place, even though I didn’t remember any of this—just finished talking. I didn’t fully understand what she said, my eyes still bleary. My mind reeled from the rough wakeup, desperately trying to understand what this was.

I watched as she stuffed food in her mouth. Handfuls of breakfast cereals that she swallowed half-chewed, making greedy moans of pleasure. She washed it down with soda and ripped two chocolate bars open, holding each in one hand as she bit off huge pieces, her eyelids fluttering as she moaned with her mouth full.

The video ended with her grinning into the camera, her face covered with goopy chocolate, her clothes ruined. I breathed asigh of relief that it was over. My mother took her phone for a moment and shoved it in front of my face. It played again.

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