Page 7 of The Umbra King

“Just the beer,” Jessie said with a charming smile.

Rory noticed him eyeing the crowd, and a chill crept up her spine. He stood and walked to the bathroom, and when he returned a while later, he had a young woman with him.

Rory cursed under her breath. She didn’t bring her things with her, and she needed them totake care of business. Usually, she kept her bag locked in her work locker until she needed it, but she hadn’t brought it back yet from her last kill.

She motioned for Brax, the other bartender, to follow her to theback, and once through the door, she put on a pitiful face. “I feel like shit,” she told him.

He took a cautious step back. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m not sure, but I think I might puke.” She made a show of holding her stomach with a grimace.

He took another step back and waved her off. “Go home. No one wants to clean up vomit. I’ll pull Haxton from the lounge to take your place.”

“Thank you,” she said with a weak smile and returned to her friends at the bar. “I’m heading home early. I don’t feel great.”

Dume squinted his eyes. “You don’t look sick.”

Keith scooted away from her as Kordie leaned over the bar to feel her head. Her soul was the perfect mixture of pink and purple, and it throbbed until she removed her hand. “She’s clammy,” Kordie announced.

“I think it was something I ate,” Rory lied. “I’ll catch up with you guys tomorrow night. I’m sure I’ll be fine by then.”

She turned and left without giving them time to argue, praying she would get back in time.

She made the three-block trek to the warehouse district where her storage unit was located. It was a sketchy area where most of the essence lights were burned out and surveillance cameras were nonexistent.

After raising the garage-like door just enough to slip inside, she flipped the light on the wall. When the bulb flickered on, a faint buzzing filled the space.

The inside was set up with a dresser and a locked safe the size of a closet against the far wall. Quickly, she changed into her signature black leggings, black hoodie, and black enforcer boots. She kept extras here for nights like this.

After unlocking the safe, she stuffed an enforcer-grade backpack with a set of chains, a meat hook, a bottle of intoxicant, a large kitchen knife sheathed in leather, and her sewing kit.

Most of the things she used came from the underground market,a place crawling with grey souls of various shades and merchants selling things you couldn’t legally find in Erdikoa.

She double checked her bag, made sure her long hair was secured in a tight bun, and left. On her way back to the bar, she cursed herself for not looking at what type of mystic Jessie was. She was too focused on memorizing the address.

She was an idiot.

Her black attire helped her disappear into the shadows as she slunk through the back alleys around Whiplash. The bar closed in an hour, and she hoped she wasn’t too late. Earlier, she typed Jessie’s address into her city guide app, saving it in the event she’d need it. If the man was already gone, she would stake out his house instead.

After what felt like forever, Jessie and the younger woman exited the bar, and Rory sent a silent thanks to theSeraphim. She waited for the two to get to the next crosswalk before creeping out of the alley to follow. She stayed close to the buildings with her hood up, ready to hide if either of them turned around, and even though she was a safe distance behind them, she could never be too careful.

Jessie turned down a side street in the general direction of the address on his mystic card. Rory stepped out of the shadows to skirt around a stoop when a voice stopped her.

“Is everything alright?”

Her head swiveled to see an olderAatxestanding at the top of the stoop with his keys stuck in the door.

“If someone is chasing you, I can call the enforcers straight away,” he offered. She could tell by the way he carried himself he had been on the force in his youth.

“That won’t be necessary,” she assured him. “I…” She couldn’t think of a single thing to say.

TheAatxetook a step down, concern etched on his face. If only he knewshewas what went bump in the night.

“I watched the new supermystic movie,” she blurted, making him halt. “Feyaren’t allowed to be enforcers, and it’s fun to pretend.”

Her face heated with embarrassment because it was half true, though she was too old to be playing pretend.Please buy it.

The old man chuckled. “Carry on, then. Wouldn’t want to stop you from saving the city.”

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