Page 56 of Court of Evil

The grin he gives me is evil as we hear a train barrelling towards us. “What are you offering?”

“Me, for one night, as long as I walk out alive.”

“Deal.” He waves his hand, and they all disappear, but I can still feel them. In one way or another, they are all tethered to me.

Standing, I put my gun away and walk inside.

The room beyond looks like a maintenance room, with a round table and a small kitchen. After a short entrance, there are two hunters who jump to their feet, their cards forgotten on the table as they eye me. I glance around, seeing the hole in the wall carved beyond, leading into darkness.

Holding my hands out, I smile calmly. “Easy. Name’s Tate. I’m a new transfer from the southwest,” I lie. If I say up north, they will check and find out about my team.

“What are you doing here?” the big bastard on the right snarls, his receding hair causing his scalp to shine in the light. His beady eyes dart around—he’s definitely on something. My eyes flit across the table, and I see the pixie dust.

I shrug. “My friend told me to get in on this and said you were making a killing.”

“Who? Give me their name,” the other demands, a meaty, short guy with sharp eyes.

“Sanchez.” It’s someone I’ve run into before and a gamble. Hunters don’t all know each other after all.

“Never heard of him,” the short one snaps.

“So? You don’t believe me? I’m one of you.” I show my patch on my shoulder, and he frowns. “How else would I know you’re keeping a magic user down here and draining him, hmm?” I scoff. “Look, I don’t want any trouble. I’m just here for some quick cash.”

They share a look, still unsure, but I would be too. After all, what they are doing is against our rules. Some might look the other way, but if brass found out about it, they would hang them, especially Shamus. Despite the rumours about him and how much he annoys me, he’s determined to be a good hunter and make our people better. Considering there are people like this who fill the lower ranks, it’s no wonder he’s fighting a losing battle.

A bellow of pain splits the air, echoing from the darkness beyond. It’s so filled with agony, it echoes my own, but I force a smile. “Looks like you guys are having all the fun.”

They chuckle, relax, and share a look. “You want any dust?” the big guy offers.

“Nah, I’m good. That shit tweaks me, and I’ve got a briefing soon. I don’t want them catching on.” I chuckle.

They laugh again and sit. “Go on through. Beiz is back there right now, draining him again.”

Nodding, I duck through the hole, my shoulders tightening at having them at my back, but I can feel the others behind me, so that’s something. Their weapons would have to get through my team before getting to me.

The hole leads into what looks like old service tunnels. There are a few closed doors, and I know there will be more hunters in there, either high or resting.

The scream comes again, echoing down the corridor, and I follow it to the very end, where some metal steps lead down to an open room. There are pipes down each side, some of them partially submerged in water with just a metal walkway over to a man who is convulsing on a metal table. His mouth is open on a scream as glowing metal prods are driven into his chained body by three hunters standing over him. They drain into glass canisters at the end, glowing with magic.

Those are a witch’s invention, ironically, to help keep magic fresh when selling spells. I’ve used some in the past, but this warlock is not giving his power or spells willingly. He is being tortured for them.

The hunters are too busy to notice me, and I do not have it in me to fake our way in. It’s silly, but I pull my gun, unable to listen to the man’s screams. His body writhes as his magic flows from him, so I aim the gun at the first hunter and pull the trigger. His head explodes, and the other two turn, pulling their prods from the warlock’s body.

“What the fuck?” The one on the right drops his prod, shattering the glass, and the magic shoots back into the slumped warlock. The hunter goes to pull his gun, but I fire. It hits his chest, causing him to stagger, so I keep firing until he drops.

I hear the doors behind us open as hunters pour from their rooms to come after us. Glancing at my team on either side of me, I grin evilly. I could spend time killing all of them, cleansing our organisation, but the warlock needs me more, so I put my trust in my team like Althea said. Besides, they need this more than I do.

“Feed,” I order.

I don’t have to tell them twice. The fae grins and throws himself at the first man that emerges, while Addeus barrels through their masses. Tem’s soft smile never drops, but he launches himself at the first man and rips his throat out with his teeth then feasts on his blood. A groan splits the air as his head tips back, and he glances at me, smiling brightly before burying his mouth back in the hunter’s neck.

Leaving them to it, I head down the stairs and to the one hunter left standing, his wavering prod pointed at me. I put my gun away. I won’t kill him with it. Instead, I’ll turn his own weapon on him.

He throws a jar of magic at me, but Ronan suddenly appears and absorbs it for me, walking like a shield as I head for the hunter. He panics and grabs another, but I rush him, and he falls back. Catching the prod with the jar still at the end, I point it at him.

“You are a disgrace,” I spit.

“You’re one of us. What the fuck?—”

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