Pair of fools, p.1
Pair of Fools, page 1
Pair of Fools
Copyright © 2021 by Lillian Lark. All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Editor: Ellie, My Brother’s Editor
Proofreader: Rosa Sharon, My Brother’s Editor
Created with Vellum
Contents
Content Warning
Prologue
1. Mace
2. Sophia
3. Sophia
4. Mace
5. Sophia
6. Mace
7. Sophia
8. Sophia
9. Mace
10. Sophia
11. Mace
12. Sophia
13. Sophia
14. Mace
15. Sophia
16. Mace
17. Sophia
18. Mace
19. Sophia
20. Mace
21. Sophia
22. Mace
23. Sophia
24. Mace
25. Sophia
26. Sophia
27. Mace
28. Sophia
29. Sophia
30. Sophia
31. Mace
32. Sophia
33. Mace
34. Sophia
35. Sophia
36. Mace
37. Sophia
38. Mace
39. Sophia
40. Sophia
41. Mace
42. Sophia
43. Mace
44. Sophia
45. Mace
46. Sophia
47. Mace
48. Sophia
Epilogue
Sophia
Bonus Epilogue
Note from the Author
About the Author
Content Warning
Dear Reader,
Pair of Fools includes mentions of suicide and depictions of the trafficking of sentient beings, violence, and gore.
Be kind to yourselves,
L. Lark
Prologue
Sophia
“What are you doing here?”
There is a demon on my doorstep, and it isn’t my newly acquired brother-in-law. Instead, it’s the demon who’s been in direct competition with me. The one stealing my clients.
He’s the reason I’ve been taking jobs that I’d normally reject. Jobs that landed me in the hellish situation I’m in now. The mark on my wrist burns as if in reminder.
Mace Reynolds doesn’t respond to my vitriol. He leans against the doorjamb, and I stiffen my spine, unwilling to give any ground.
“Why wouldn’t I visit the family of a friend?” he teases.
Leave it to my sister that the one time she leaves the house she gets mated. An anomaly for harpies already. Let alone the fact that she mated to not one, but two men. In a way that makes me wonder if I’ve angered the gods, one of those men just happens to be best friends with my adversary.
“Because I don’t like you, and we are definitely not friends,” I say.
“Ouch. I think we could be friends if you got to know me.” Mace’s dark eyes have a playful glint in them. “And we have a matter we need to discuss.”
“If this is about Alice—”
Mace interrupts me with a bark of laughter. “No, this is not about your attempt at sabotage.”
Having Alice feed Mace incorrect information had seemed like a good idea at the time. Now, with bigger issues plaguing me than this demon, I can admit that it was a bad idea.
But Mace doesn’t seem angry.
“It isn’t an attempt if it’s successful,” I say, miffed.
Mace nods as if conceding his point. I deliberate. If he’s here about something other than my shot at his business… My ever-present curiosity claws at me. What could he possibly want? And how can I turn that to my benefit?
“Are you going to let me come inside?” Mace asks.
“Do you have to be invited?” Curiosity has the question out of my mouth before I can help it.
Mace quirks a dark eyebrow that has a scar running through it. I take note of the detail. For all that I’ve named this demon as my adversary, I’ve barely been in the same room with him.
Mace’s dark hair flops on his forehead in a way that would be considered dashing but his features lack the refinement for it. His face can only be described as strong; the errors of it contributing to the overall look rather than detracting from it. His nose is crooked in the way that comes from being broken before. His jaw is just a touch too prominent, and his dark eyes are slightly asymmetrical. How can someone with the healing abilities of a demon have so many imperfections?
“It’s good manners to not go into other people’s homes unless invited… but it won’t keep a demon out, if that’s what you’re asking,” Mace says.
I glare at Mace and open the door wider. “I guess that was too much to hope for.”
“You’ve been watching too much Buffy the Vampire Slayer,” he says in passing.
I gasp as I close the front door; the demon now strolling around my apartment. “I take issue with that statement. There’s nothing wrong with Buffy the Vampire Slayer.”
“I implied no such thing!” Mace dramatically presses a hand over his heart. “But it’s fiction and won’t help you in the face of an actual vampire.”
“Have you met one?” I haven’t. I had only began meeting rarer creatures than witches or the odd shifter when I started my business. The older generation of harpies hadn’t been pleased. Isolationism is practically a part of the harpy code.
Maybe that will change with all the help Asa is giving to the different harpy branches. Amara has even gotten to know other types of creatures through working at Greg’s bakery. If my oldest sister can unbend enough to eschew our elder’s isolationist requirements, then maybe there is hope for our kind.
My knowledge of other kinds of creatures had to be built from scratch.
Mace shudders. “Yes, they are less common than they once were. A bunch of snobs really.”
I bite my lip to keep from peppering my rival with questions. The demon moves with ease around my space. The studio apartment is small but it’s my sanctuary. Other harpies rarely come into my territory, and I like it that way.
The walls are a jumble of photo frames of places I’ve been and places I want to go.
Mace stops at my shelves full of knickknacks from my adventures. Some items are gifts from previous clients and others are souvenirs.
“Why are you here, Mace?”
“We have a debt to discuss, harpy.”
I blanch. “What?”
How could he possibly know about that? I’d just barely returned home from that awful meeting. Mace is well connected, those who deal in information like we do have to be, but for him to work that quickly is near impossible.
Mace lifts a brow. “Did you already forget about the favor you asked for?”
My exhale is shaky. He’s not talking about the other debt I owe. He’s talking about that trick he pulled. Taking the thoughtless words I’d said while drowning in guilt as a demon deal. My relief is short lived.
“How much do you know about demons?” Mace asks.
Next to nothing, but this man is still a rival, a threat. He could lie to me, and I’d have no way of knowing.
I tilt my chin up with bravado. “Enough.”
Mace’s mouth twitches.
“Quite. Well, then you’ll know that some demons need to have soul bonds to reside in this plane. Asa and I have been bonded for much of our lives but now…” He trails off before clearing his throat. “Now Asa is bonded with Zeph and Greg. Which means that I’m in need of someone to soul bond with; to act as an anchor in this plane.”
“You can’t stay bonded with Asa?”
Harpies may not take mates, my mother and sister being an exception, but many paranormal beings bond that way. There are different types of relationships in our world, couples, throuples, and more. I’ve never heard of a soul bond limit.
Mace grimaces. “Yes and no. Demons are sensitive to bonds and to be bonded to not only Asa, but to your sister and Greg all at once is… uncomfortable.”
I can’t even imagine. It puts a different meaning to feeling like a third wheel, or fourth wheel in this case. Mace picks up an acorn from my shelf. A community of dryads had given that to me when I’d retrieved enough blackmail to stop a developer from uprooting their forest.
“Why are you telling me this?” Suspicion stirs. As much as I’d love a lesson on the intricacies of demons, no one speaks about the particulars of what they are unprompted. Information is valuable and secrets about weaknesses are premium.
Mace puts the acorn down carefully, almost reverently, before turning to face me. His face a cheerful mask but his eyes alight with interest, with challenge.
“I’m here to call in that favor you owe me.”
1
Mace
Many Months Later
Frustration brews in me; it tightens the muscles in my back and has my teeth gritting. The emotion simmers as I toe a bottle cap across the dirt-covered floor.
The marks in the dust tell a story. It won’t do any good to carefully analyze them as I would have in the past when my hunting would trek through wilderness. There is no trail that I can pick up and follow by sight. No wheel ruts of wagons full of captives. There are only a number of different size foot and shoe prints on the floor of this damp basement that reeks of fear and suppression collars.
I hiss out a curse at a particularly small set of prints, the toes tiny and obviously bare, losing the hold on my anger for a moment before I reel it in. Letting myself become furious will not help accomplish the things needed.
I spin in a circle and catalog the rusty cages hanging open like cheap jail cells. The scents on the air are not stale.
I bring my phone up to my ear and the call is picked up immediately.
“What did you find?” Gage asks. No preamble needed.
“I’m in the basement of the tenth location on your list. They were here. Very recently. Two days ago, at most.”
Gage hisses on the phone. “Gods dammit, this group is moving fast for how many people they must have.”
There are eighteen folders of missing people on our shared drive. There are more than that if the tracks are to judge. As if the traffickers are waiting to have a mass auction instead of finding buyers one-by-one.
A faint but familiar draw hangs in the air.
“They’re using portals,” I say and Gage curses again before going silent. The typing on a keyboard reaches me over the phone.
“That’s useful information. I’ll check with the certified portal retailers to start but I don’t know about the black-market ones.”
I nod and hope starts to build. It’s small, but it’s a lead all the same.
“I have a contact who can get me a list of black-market retailers for portal spells.”
A sigh of relief comes from Gage. “Good. I’ll send out a message to the team, so we know what we are looking for now.”
Gage’s business serves many needs in the paranormal community and is the party contracted for these missing persons. Having a public organization that the families can hire is useful. Asa, Gideon, and I should have done something similar a long time ago instead of relying on word of mouth.
Our trio was more informal, which worked at the time, but modern times call for modern measures. My friends are out of the business now, for the most part.
Gage continues, “I had to pull Kane and Leo for an abduction that just came in.”
“Do they need any help?” I ask.
For those types of cases, the chances of retrieval decrease as the clock ticks.
“It doesn’t look like it’s a part of this trafficking ring. They already report having a solid lead. I’d rather use your skills in checking these locations. We might get lucky and stumble on one in use.” There’s a pause. “If you don’t mind, that is.”
I smile ruefully. “I’m happy to help.”
Gage is used to directing his team. My presence and ability to teleport are incredibly helpful, but collaborating has taken some getting used to for this group since I’m an independent party. I’m happy to work with them but have no interest in being a part of their team in the long run.
Not for the first time, I wonder if I should accept Gage’s offer to join them… no, it wouldn’t be the same as working with Asa and Gideon. I’m not quite ready to move into a completely different organization. I’m too stubborn and independent to mesh and act as a team player.
We say our goodbyes and I go over the scene again, doing my best to suppress my rage. I have a list of other locations to check tonight.
I drop some sensing charms in the cages, on the off chance this location is used again. Innocuous objects, a bobby pin here, a button there, geared to pick up a certain level of distress and send an alert to my phone. Technology has added much to doing this job.
I’ve placed the last one when I feel her. Warmth spreads in my chest. The vibrant Sophia Shirazi is nearby. Her presence through the bond we have is like a swarm of bees, humming and dangerous and incredibly irritated with me.
I’d thought that the harpy may eventually settle in our arrangement. That had been wishful thinking. I’d underestimated the stubbornness that is Sophia.
Such a mysterious woman with secrets behind her stunning green eyes. Secrets that my demon side wants to possess.
The pull of curiosity is too much to resist. A small break before going back to my long list of locations won’t harm anything. I learned a long time ago that burning yourself out with the never-ending tasks that come with chasing these sorts of criminals doesn’t serve anyone in the long run.
A tiny detour to check on my bond-mate. It should only take a moment.
2
Sophia
“Fucking demon,” I whisper, but no one hears.
The nightclub is a clash of color, shadow, and above all, music.
The primal pulse coaxes the dancers onward. Uninhibited bodies twist like smoke on a breeze. Some dancers move as if they’re in a human establishment, not showing any bells and whistles. Others fully embrace the freedom that comes with being in a club that caters to the inhuman.
A slender being with blue skin twines around a bulky man-shaped creature with tusks. A woman with snakes in place of hair twirls, the crowd giving her whatever space the hissing creatures on her head require. Others standby, watching the dancers with hungry eyes.
The ache of curiosity has me wanting to mingle.
Going to places like this was why I started my business rather than staying isolated with other harpies.
Just last year, this would have been one of my favorite places to be in a long list of other favorites. I was carefree and finally making my own way in the world.
A lot can change in a year.
My phone weighs heavy in my jacket pocket. The text message from earlier deleted, but still present in my thoughts.
Ms. Shirazi, my employer requires a meeting to discuss your debt. Please contact to schedule.
I mentally throw dealing with the polite message on the shit-I-have-to-deal-with pile and resist rubbing the inked spell on my wrist. Even after all this time the magic of that spell doesn’t mix well with mine. No, no more thoughts of that tonight.
Avoidance is the name of the game.
I wipe my sweaty hands against the dress I’d changed into just for this outing, and tug on my jacket as if I’m here on a mission.
Maybe I am.
My leather jacket is beautifully designed and charmed for utility. It had been a birthday present from my best friend. Alice had used all of her witchy skills to make the pockets able to hold any number of charmed objects.
Most importantly, the lining of the jacket suppresses the sensation of magic against my skin. It isn’t as capable as what we’re aiming for. I’m still affected by the magics I pass from day-to-day, but they’re a mere itch rather than the sting that some of the more potent spells can cause.
It’s not the surrounding magic that’s causing an ache in me. The stroke of the scented air against my skin, my curiosity, and the lively dancers are almost enough to quiet it, but nothing eases that particular sensation.
A sensation caused by my enemy.
I shake my head, trying to dispel thoughts of broad shoulders and that irritating smile.
I’m on a mission to forget.
Forget how naive I’d been. Reckless.
Forget that I’d assumed when clients mentioned a demon who undercut my time and price estimates, that he was moving in on my territory. Nearly a year later of being more integrated in the paranormal community, and the truth is embarrassing.
