Page 49 of House of Crimson Kisses
“We’re looking for information.”
“Information is expensive,” she replies.
“Everything with you is expensive.”
She smiles at me; her face is more lined than the last time I saw her. Her hair a little greyer. She must have aged fifteen years in the five it’s been since we last met. But fae don’t age like humans. Their long lifespans often rival vampires—we get killed before they die of old age. I still remember her when she first came to the safe house three hundred years ago. Rhea was never allowed in the field. She was born with bones that didn’t form properly in one of her feet, which meant she couldn’t run fast enough to pass the fitness tests. You can’t be in the army or an assassin if you can’t escape. So, she became a trainer instead—the most brutal and respected of them all, no less. And I dare say an equally accomplished assassin in her own ways. I’ve watched her career progress with pride over the years. Besides, I’ve known her to take enough lives that I would rather stay friends.
Especially because she’s less of a guns-and-arrows killer, and more of an up close and personal one. The kind that would shove a knife in your femoral artery and vanish before you even knew she was there.
Hence the collection of weapons. She reasoned that if she couldn’t get away, she’d perfect taking the life instead.
That’s why she’s always been good for off-books jobs. No one actually knows how accomplished she is because she’s not a registered part of the fae army.
The office door creeps open and a woman in her mid-thirties sticks her head around the door.
“Hey boss, where’s that report? The new client that needs… oh,” she stops herself.
“Evening, Orion. File is in the cabinet in the end office. This is Octavia, one of the original three vampires. I dare say you’ll have dealings with her eventually.”
“Octavia,” the fae woman says, inclining her head. “I’m Orion Isles.” Orion’s hair reminds me of Sadie’s, white as snow, but her eyes are breathtaking. They’re the colour of autumn leaves, auburn and chestnut and a hint of orange.
“Nice to meet you, Orion. This is Xavier, my brother.”
“I’ll leave you to it,” Orion says and walks out of the office.
“She’s like no one you’ll ever meet. The most incredible killer. Now. Tell me, how can I help?”
“Information on a series of attacks that are targeting hunters in the city. You know anything about that?” Xavier says.
Her fingers trail over a brown file on her desk. “No,” she says as her eyes snap up to meet mine.
Xavier leans forward ready to have a go at her, but I put my hand on his leg.
Rhea always says no to every job. You might think that counterintuitive, seeing as she needs jobs to pay the bills.
But it’s a test. I’ve seen her do this to a couple of clients that have come in while I was visiting.
She likes to assess how much her clients really want murder on their conscience. I don’t need murder today. But I guess the habit is ingrained.
Her fingers pull open the file and push a piece of paper towards us. “Well, maybe I do, as it happens. It’s your lucky day.”
Xavier leans forward and takes the paper. But she pulls it back.
“Payment first,” she says closing the file again.
“What do you want?” I ask.
“At the moment, nothing. Let’s call it a favour at some point in the future.”
“I dislike having debts around my neck, Rhea.”
She presses her lips together. “Unfortunately for you, you’re the one asking, and I do have the information you need. So, agree or get out.”
“Fine. But I know what you fae are like. For clarity, I agree to a favour of equal magnitude and not an ounce more.”
Her expression narrows, but she smiles. “I always liked you, Beaumont.”
We shake hands, and she gives the piece of paper back to Xavier.
