My fingers spasmed around the stake. Please don't be a servant. Please be some whack job who thinks I'm his redheaded stepchild or something. Please. Please. "Can I help you?" I asked, bracing myself.
The man cocked his head. Oh, I didn't like this. Every muscle in my body tensed. He stood a few feet inside the mouth of the alley, and then I saw it.
Pale, washed out blue eyes, slanted at the outer corners—fae eyes. But his skin wasn't silvery. It was a rich olive color that stood out against blond hair so pale it was almost white, and that hair was long, like Legolas in the Lord of the Rings long.
Legolas was kind of hot.
Okay. I so needed to focus because this dude was not right. Every instinct in me fired off warnings. I took a step back as I eyed the newcomer. There was no glamour on this guy, and he didn't carry the typical glazed over look servants favored. He looked human but not, and there was something about him that screamed he wasn't going to get friendly in any way I'd be happy with.
The man smiled as he lifted his arm. Out of thin air, a gun appeared in his hand. Just like that. Hand empty one second and the next he was holding a gun.
What in the holy hell?
"I wish you could see your expression right about now," he said, and then lowered the gun, aiming it right at me.
Chapter Two
The man pointing a gun at me was so not a human, because the last time I checked, we didn't have nifty abilities that enabled us to conjure guns out of thin air. I didn't even think fae could do that.
But this man—this thing had to be a fae.
"Not cool." I backed up, no longer bothering to hide the stake. "Kind of tacky to bring a gun to a knife fight."
The thing laughed, and the sound was as chilling as winters in the north. No humor. No empathy or humanity attached to it. "Kind of stupid to let you walk up behind me and stab me like the last one just did."
"That's a good point." I kept slowly moving backward as my heart pounded. I was nearing the other side of the alley. There was only one option for me. "You're not a normal fae."
A tight-lipped smile appeared. "And you're not a stupid cow?"
"What are you?" I ignored the derogatory term fae called humans. Cow. Cattle. Sustenance for them. Whatever. I'd been called worse.
He opened his mouth, but that second of distraction was all I needed. Like I'd been trained a hundred times over, I centered myself and cocked back my arm. Stepping forward, I let the stake fly.
It struck true, just like I knew it would.
The pointy end embedded deep in the thing's chest, knocking him back a step. A slow, satisfied smile split my lips. "Wait, I know what you are. A dead fae."
He glanced down and his shoulders rose with a deep, irritated sigh. "Really?" Annoyance colored his tone as he reached up with his free hand and proceeded to pull the stake out of his chest. He tossed it aside, and my eyes widened as the iron stake clanged off the pavement. "How weak do you think I am, cow?"
Holy shit.
Fae did not do that. They couldn't. But this one did, and this was so bad it wasn't even funny. I did the only thing left I could do, proving I wasn't a stupid cow. If you couldn't be sure you could win the fight with a fae? When in doubt, get the fuck out.
I turned and ran.
That's what we were taught when we were going down shit creek, nearing shitville, population unlucky you, without a shitty paddle. A good warrior knew when to retreat, and this was totally one of those moments.
My backpack thumped off my back as I hauled ass, picking up speed as I neared the narrow opening in the alley. Something popped behind me, and almost immediately a fiery pain exploded along the left side of my stomach, knocking the air out of my lungs.
The bastard shot me!
For a moment, I couldn't believe it. Surely he did not shoot me with an actual bullet from an actual gun. But the pain told me he had.
My step faltered, but I didn't stop. If anything, I ran faster—harder. Pain shrieked through me, and I felt like a lit match had been pressed against my side. I cleared the mouth of the alley and didn't look back.
Dodging drunks and tourists, I darted around the packed sidewalk and kept running as I reached into the back pocket of my cutoff jeans and pulled out my cellphone. Crossing Royal Street, I hit David's name and could barely hear the phone ringing over the sound of my pounding heart and the street traffic. I needed to tell him what happened—how the fae required no glamour and had summoned a gun out of nothing. This was huge. A total game changer.
The phone rang and rang until I cursed and disconnected the call. Clutching the cell in my hand, I slowed down to a jog, not because I wanted to, but because my toes were starting to tingle and my breath was wheezing out of me.