For the Murder Read online

  Ah. Van Doren.

  “And when I get him, I’m going to kill his family and tar him with their feathers for making a fool of me.” Madame flexed her fingers at her sides, tremors racked her arms, and the skin along her cheekbones began to peel away from her human exterior.

  If he weren’t careful, she’d kill him for simply standing there. Demons had a nasty penchant for violence and didn’t discriminate. The elusive crow shifter and con artist, Charles Van Doren, had no idea what he’d done when he’d swindled Madame. People didn’t deceive her unless they’d already come to terms with their god and picked a cemetery plot.

  “You’ll get Van Doren. Crows are smart, but not that one. If he were, he wouldn’t have crossed you to begin with.” Sasha closed his eyes. No more visions. Good. Perhaps he would escape her wrath after all. “Am I here to find him?”

  “At the present? No.” Madame took a breath as the skin on her face mended and slowly stitched together again. “There’s an auction in Highland Park. I’ll have the details sent over. I need the big-ticket item.”

  “Which is?”

  “A knife.” Madame’s jaw tightened. “The knife forged by my dead associate hundreds of years ago: Sheturath.”

  There was only one blade Madame would put off skinning Van Doren for, and it was that one.

  “A contact claims Van Doren is going to steal it though.” Madame’s lips curled in the feral way only demons could do, and her pointed teeth glinted in the moonlight. “If he is as stupid as you say, you could kill him and take my knife all in one fell swoop.”

  Sasha flicked ash onto the ground, focusing on the feel of the cigarette between his fingers instead of the overwhelming urge to groan. He’d been doing this shit for Madame and her gang of conscripted agents for two decades. Despite only being thirty-two, he felt ancient.

  It was always something.

  “Get my knife. Get the crows.” Madame leaned forward, fire dancing inside her irises. “If you get them both, I’ll cut you loose.”

  He frowned as another brisk chill rolled over him and brushed his sandy-blond hair across his forehead. “Surely you don’t think I’m falling for that.”

  “I knew you wouldn’t, so I brought this.” Madame reached inside her fur coat and pulled out a rolled-up something. Sasha stared at it longer.

  Cow hide. His heartbeat quickened exponentially as his honey-gold eyes took in the leather. He knew exactly what that was.

  “Bring me my knife and those goddamn birds dead or alive, and I’ll sign this.” Madame unrolled the hide. While only about a foot long, the sharp strokes of dark, inky blood spelled out an intimately familiar set of terms. “You’ll be unemployed.”

  Sasha fought to breathe.

  “In the meantime”—Madame rolled up the hide and gave him a sly look—“I have a new one.”

  He managed to take a breath. The demon watched him exhale, gaze hard and fixed on his jugular, and she put the hide back inside her coat. “I am not inclined to sign another one of those.”

  “This one you will. Already signed. Fresh.” She pulled out another hide, unfurled it, and let it lie flat atop her hands.

  The prospect of freedom proved much too strong for him to ignore. Sasha took a step closer, just enough to see Madame’s jagged calligraphy.

  “If you present both the knife and the Van Dorens, I’ll incinerate your original pledge.” Madame extended her hands out farther and gave him a glimpse of her true name etched at the bottom in an unfamiliar alphabet.

  Sasha dropped his cigarette on the ground and crushed it beneath the sole of his oxford.

  Years of servitude to Madame could be over. Done.

  He could go back to Chelyabinsk. He could see his mother again.

  His family would be freed from a monster.

  “You’re serious.” Sasha kept his voice level, sounding uninterested by most standards, but dealing with Madame was a deadly game.

  She sighed. Bored. “If you’re not interested, I can find someone else.”

  “I’m interested.” Sasha tucked a hand in his pants pocket. “I’m curious why you don’t go handle it yourself.”

  Madame stilled. He’d made a mistake. Tread carefully.

  “If you think we’re the only ones interested in Sheturath, you aren’t as smart as I thought. I lost my kingdom in Hell, and I won’t risk my gains on Earth due to arrogance.” A growl pushed past Madame’s lips. “Several things there will possess the power to kill me, and I’d rather not be in the same room as that knife.”

  Sasha smirked. An opportunity to get back in her good graces. “Unless you’re wielding it.”

  Madame’s fangs twinkled as she grinned. “Exactly.”

  The demon slinked forward and placed the hide on the hood of his rental sedan. “Do we have a deal, Aleksandr Ivanovich Sokolov?”

  Sasha swallowed, taking in the bloody text carefully as sweat collected between his shoulder blades. I, Aleksandr Ivanovich Sokolov of Chelyabinsk, agree to procure the blade Sheturath and find the roost of Charles Van Doren in exchange for my release of service. Release will be granted when Van Doren and Sheturath are in possession of Madame, former general of Hell.

  Plain. Boring. Clear—like he wanted.

  He pulled a slender blade from the holster beneath his black suit jacket and pierced the tip of his left index finger. Blood bubbled up immediately and rolled down his knuckles after a breath.

  Sasha kept the apprehension from his face and pressed his bloody fingertip to the hide, writing his name in Cyrillic.

  A knife. A crow.

  He’d find them both, and he’d be free.

  THREE

  DIANA

  For five years, they’d lived in exile in the hill country of central Texas, sequestered in a small, condemned, wood-framed house sandwiched between cornfields and dirt roads. The unbearable heat had finally taken its two-week hiatus as the state’s short winter fell upon them like a heavy blanket. The lack of a heater made existing in the house absolutely miserable, but no one would know it given the sudden accumulation of sweat beading between her shoulder blades.

  Diana cursed under her breath and sagged against her bedroom door. Her parents wanted her to steal a knife from an auction that would be packed with other supes. She needed to find Amir to verify some information since her father clearly could not be trusted, and she had no desire to die for a fool’s errand.

  She pulled off her clothes despite the cold, letting them fall to the dusty floor in a pile. A chill racked her body, and her teeth slammed together. How did humans stand the cold? Crow shifters by nature didn’t like it, but she loathed it.

  Diana closed her eyes and tugged at the pulsing core of her being, a warm ball of energy swirling in her chest, wrangling it with ease as she tucked her arms and legs close. Her skin, hot with magic, pushed feathers out along her spine and neck in a flurry of black as she shrank into a crow before flying through the broken window and into the night. Shifting, the only painless part of her being, felt like the only thing she could control anymore.

  The small farming town they’d hidden in was as far from civilization as one could get in America. Acres of farmland stretched wide, intermittently dotted with homes and streetlights and bonfires. While she hadn’t forgiven her father for landing them there, she was thankful to have freedom to roam, be it as human or crow. Her parents didn’t have the luxury, not when they’d ironed their faces into the mind of a demon.

  If Lead Crow found them again, he’d certainly kill them now after all the trouble they’d caused in their five-year leave. Casualty of her father’s mistakes or no, he’d kill her too. Maybe her father was right in that regard. Maybe the knife would be enough to change Lead Crow’s mind.

  Diana held her wings aloft and drifted through the chilled night. A bigger city loomed in the distance, perfect for an evening roost. Cities were warm, and there was plenty of food that wasn’t roadkill. More than that, Amir was there, and she needed to speak with him.

  Even in the dark, her eyes were good. She closed one and focused on a tightly packed cluster of buildings, smoke billowing out of chimneys and chatter drifting in the wind. People walked around bundled in coats and hats and scarves, holding hands and carrying bags of brightly wrapped boxes. Music temporarily jarred her attention, but as she flew closer to the streetlamps, she noticed speakers poking out from behind green wreaths and holiday lights.

  Have a holly, jolly Christmas, indeed.

  Diana batted her wings, slowing her descent, and wrapped her talons along a power line beside a chimney. So warm. Comfortable.

  As her bones warmed, she thought back to her parents. The knife. Her parents made it seem like such a simple task. Steal the knife and they’re free. That’s it. But she knew it would be tougher than that. Expensive things, rare things, always had more than one set of eyes on them. She’d have to be careful because the odds of her being the only supernatural being at the auction were slim to none.

  “Dude, check out that bird.” A guy with a cigarette pinched between his fingers nodded toward Diana, his breath white puffs swirling in the air.

  She cocked her head at him, unimpressed with his scraggly beard.

  “What? It’s a bird.” His companion, a man in a heavy, brown coat, narrowed his eyes and made to keep walking.

  “No. Look at it.” Cigarette Guy motioned to her. “It has three damn legs!”

  Diana sat still for a moment as the two marveled. Like werewolves being bigger and stronger than their animal counterparts, she didn’t look exactly like a typical crow. She, too, was larger than average. Her height and wingspan were a little over six inches longer, and her bill a bit thicker. And, more notably, she had three legs when she was a crow, like the creature that created all crow shift
ers thousands of years ago.

  Instead of worrying about the idiots below, she left the wire to find Amir.

  She flew close to the buildings, basking in their warmth. What she wouldn’t do for a home again. A house with heat and plumbing and food. The items her father found through contacts kept them from starving, but it was far from enough. The last retrieval he sent her on, the one where she got shot, had kept her out of the air for two months. She wasn’t entirely sure how they didn’t die from a lack of things to eat.

  Well, she did know.

  Amir.

  She drifted into the broken second-story window of an abandoned storefront: her usual stop. In the corner of the room behind a pile of cardboard boxes was another box with a tank top and a pair of jeans inside. It wouldn’t be warm enough in this weather, but at least she wouldn’t be naked.

  With the same painless ease as before, Diana shifted to her human form and got dressed in a matter of seconds. She wrapped her arms around herself and trotted down the steps to the ground floor, dodging dead rats and piles of trash left behind by the previous tenants. The back door, unlocked thanks to an exceptionally strong werewolf breaking the lock off the latch, swung open with ease, and she briskly moved into the street.

  Across the street was an open courtyard. A fountain sat in the center, decorated with wreaths and tinsel. Farther into the expanse was the town Christmas tree, adorned from top to bottom with ornaments and lights. The smoke from nearby chimneys assaulted her nose, but she didn’t mind. It was a welcome reprieve from the shit she’d been forced to smell in their temporary abode.

  On a bench in the courtyard sat Amir.

  Diana jogged ahead and ignored the strange looks other pedestrians cast her way. Although, she couldn’t blame them really. She was the one wearing a tank top when it was thirty degrees outside.

  Diana assumed Amir knew she was coming even though his back was to her. Werewolves had an exceptionally good sense of smell, just as she had exceptionally good eyesight. He turned around, tired eyes framed with wrinkles, looking somewhat annoyed. Poor Amir. He’d risked a lot to keep her alive.

  “I was hoping you’d come.” Amir pat the bench beside him. A brown paper bag sat between his legs, and the second Diana’s thighs hit the cold metal, he heaved a thick coat onto her lap. “Not a good time to be without.”

  Her heart swelled as she took in the jacket. Heavy. Canvas. She stuck her arms in the sleeves and basked in the warmth.

  “It’s Thursday, so I’m here.” Diana exhaled a wave of hot air into her palms. “I don’t think I can ever repay you for all you’ve done for us.”

  “For you, Di.” Amir gave her a look as his beige skin glowed beneath the yellow light of the streetlamp. Despite looking to be somewhere in his early forties, Amir was almost one hundred. “It isn’t fair to you. Your parents are not fair to you.”

  “I know.” Diana swallowed and nudged him with her elbow. “How’s Farida?”

  “She’s well.” Amir smiled a little. So faint she might’ve missed it if he hadn’t tried to hide it by stroking his chin. “Pregnant.”

  “Excuse me?” She leaned closer, eyes narrowed. “Farida is pregnant, and you’re just now telling me?”

  “It never came up.”

  “Then bring it up.”

  “It’s…precarious.” Farida was human, and if the embryo carried any of Amir’s werewolf magic, she’d miscarry. Diana knew they’d lost two already, and given Amir’s glassy stare, he was prepared for it to happen again.

  “Hey.” Diana elbowed him again as a chilled breeze brushed her cheeks. “The baby could be human this time. It happens. My father claims one of my cousins is human.”

  “Your father is also a liar.”

  “Yes, he is. Which brings me to an important question.” Diana sighed and stared into the courtyard. Couples walked around the fountain, taking pictures and casting coins. Carefree. Happy. “My father said the demon woman is close. I’m not sure if he’s being honest or lying to make me do something stupid.”

  “She’s very close.” Amir rubbed his hands together. “Madame is somewhere in the metroplex.”

  A shriek of laughter from a pair of women holding hands in front of the Christmas tree brought a wistful smile to Diana’s lips. “Should we move?”

  “I’m not sure.” Amir watched her. Pity lingered on his face. “I’m afraid if you move, you won’t escape.”

  “But if we continue to hide, we won’t make it.” Diana fell against the bench. Great. The Hell-forged knife looked more promising by the second. Sometimes she wished she’d been born a more physically formidable creature. Or changed into one like Amir.

  She remembered being cornered by Amir five years ago. His keen nose sent him on her trail, and he followed her for several blocks before cornering her in an alley. After a snarl filled with sharp teeth, Diana had been sure she was going to die.

  It was laughable now. Amir had simply introduced himself and invited her to his house for dinner. His pack had the unfortunate honor of being indebted to the demon hunting her family down, but he always made sure to share any information he could spare. Anything to help keep her alive.

  The pair sat in silence as she reflected on their predicament. Diana shifted against the bench, stomach tied in knots, and cleared her throat. “My father said there’s a knife that can kill Madame up for auction tomorrow. If I get it, we might be able to convince the murder to let my parents back in. Exchange a place in the flock for the knife.”

  “Your father says a lot of things, and you have no guarantee the murder will let you come with him in an exchange.” Amir sighed and ran a hand through his thick mop of dark hair. “You’ve got to stop trusting him.”

  Her heart thumped against her sternum, loud and strong. Amir was right. She needed to stop.

  But if she stopped, she’d have nothing. If she stopped, she’d never have a home.

  “You need to find someone worthy of your trust, Di.” Amir pinned her with a hard stare. “You need to stop trying to dig goodness out of someone who has nothing good to start with. Screw your father and his murder. Go find some new crows.”

  “There aren’t any more. That I know of, anyway.” Diana tried to shut out the sharp pinch in her chest. A cool breeze whipped against her cheeks, and her hair lashed across her face. “And as much as I hate to say it, I’m afraid I lost my shot at joining them.”

  “Why?”

  “Because most crow shifters are accepted into the murder when they’re young. Everyone unclaimed by the murder’s magic gets kicked out to fend for themselves or killed after a while. Liabilities. I only got to stay for so long because Lead Crow felt guilty.” White-hot pain tore through her at the last memory she had of the murder, left to stand alone in the middle of a crowded room. Crow shifters not welcomed by the murder’s magic were something of a pariah, and the rest made their dislike no secret.

  Nausea settled in the pit of her stomach. She’d never told anyone what happened to her in her formative years—the years she should’ve had with the murder—and Diana intended to keep it that way. If the murder found out how she’d stayed alive after falling from the family nest, there would be no hope of joining them. Not even her parents, the ones who left her behind back then, knew the truth.

  Diana blew another puff of hot air into her hands. “I’m twenty-eight, and the murder is getting smaller all the time. If they were going to accept me, I’m afraid it would’ve happened already.”

  Amir didn’t say anything. The speakers hanging on the nearby lampposts switched to a piano rendition of “O Holy Night,” and Diana couldn’t help but wonder what it must be like to spend Christmas with someone who looked at her with love.

  “But I can’t stop trying, so I guess I’ll be stealing a knife tomorrow.” When Amir didn’t respond, she longed to fill the silence. She sighed and shook her head. “I think I’m broken, Amir.”

  The man snorted. “Your priorities are wrong, but you aren’t broken.”

  Diana scowled.

  “You need to ditch your dad and the hope the murder will one day accept you. Our pack magic isn’t so selective, but it won’t work unless the pack and new wolf want it to work.” Amir leaned over a little and bumped her elbow. “You came to me for the truth. Here’s some truth: you need to focus on what you want, and I don’t think it’s a knife and spending a life with people who treat you like shit.”