Page 14 of A Court of Fire and Frost

This evening just took a turn for the better. The Summer Fae’s face flashes before my eyes, and a little thrill wiggles in my stomach.

I nod, looking at the large clock hanging on the back wall. 7:00 p.m.

“All right. It looks like it’ll be another all-nighter for me.”

The human rubs his beer belly. “That’s why you get paid the big bucks.”

Among other reasons.

“You want him alive or dead?” I ask flatly. I don’t like having to inquire, but I am used to death. I’ve gotten good at doing it quickly and cleanly.

“Alive, this time. Make him see reason, then dump his ass. He can find his own way home.” Raking his hand through his greasy hair, the human belches loudly. It is all I could do to stop from shuddering in disgust. “Blake is already expecting you.”

I hum, double-checking that I have everything, before shoving my phone in my pocket. I toss my hair in a ponytail and wink at my boss. The coward takes a step back, a look of fear on his face.

I huff a laugh and flick my hand. Instantly, I extend my magic, brushing his cheek with my icy touch. I haven’t moved, but I can see his face paling as he remembers who he’s dealing with. I could make him do whatever I wanted, and we both know it.

Just reminding him who’s really in charge here.

“You got it.” Winking again, I swing on my heel, marching out of the warehouse without a farewell. No need to discuss payment.

He knows to send me my cut as soon as I send him the proof. He’s already seen what I can do when I’m angry.

* * *

Buzz-buzz-buzz

Swatting my phone in my pocket, I send whatever idiot is calling me to voicemail. This is not the time for a social call.

I have my eyes on the target, a Summer Fae with long blond hair tied into a man-bun at the nape of his neck. Perched in the rafters of his small bungalow, I’m sitting in the shadows while I wait him out. I have the perfect view of my target as he walks around without a care in the world.

The Fae’s pointy ears are sticking up over his hair, and even from here, I can see that he is bedecked in an ostentatious amount of jewelry. He has at least five earrings in each ear and large rings hanging off each of his eyebrows.

He looks about thirty years old, but he could have centuries under his belt. There’s no way for me to know without talking to him. The Summer Fae is currently walking around shirtless, giving me a prime view of his sculpted chest covered in tattoos of flowers and butterflies. Not precisely menacing, but who am I to judge any Fae’s looks?

According to information my boss sent to my FaePhone, this man is tricking local musicians into coming to Summer Court and performing for the local Fae. Once they arrive, they find themselves bound to service for eternity.

It isn’t necessarily against the law for Fae toencouragehumans to come to the courts, but it is most certainly frowned upon when humans get caught up in a favor and are bound to the land. Something about the mistreatment of humans, their rights, blah, blah, blah.

How veryhumanof them to care about others. In the Winter Court, the only thing that matters is power. Self-preservation is a natural instinct–the only instinct–that matters in the court of my birth. Even familial ties mean nothing when it comes to staying alive.

It’s every Fae for him or herself.

Perched as I am above the Summer Fae, I have the perfect view of him as he plops onto his couch and turns on the television. Sighing, I rest my head against the wall.

Come on, hurry up and fall asleep already.

He hits the lights and turns up the volume. I choke on a laugh when the theme music forThe Real Life of Pixiescomes from the TV. The reality tv series follows seven Pixies as they trick poor, unsuspecting humans into performing ridiculous acts for them.

Helena would love this show. She's always had a soft spot for humans. That's one of the reasons my mother hates her so much. There is no room for softness in the northern courts.

By the third straight episode ofThe Real Life,my prey’s yawning every two minutes. I’m not surprised. There are only so many pixie antics someone can take before falling asleep from boredom. They call it trash TV for a reason.

Forty minutes later, the sound of snoring fills the air. The Fae has no idea I’m here, and he’s sleeping peacefully.

Fool.

Using the dim glow of the television to guide me, I slip down from my resting place and hang onto the rafter. My muscles tighten, and for a moment, I dangle above him. A crack comes from the next room, and I pause.

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