But I’m used to these ping-ponging emotions by now. I usually have at least one grand epiphany every day.
My current one?
I’m stuck like this forever, so I better get used to it.
CHAPTER THREE
EVERETT
“Target just left. I repeat, the target just left,” I say into my earpiece from where I crouch on a neighboring roof of the pub we’re staking out.
“Roger that,” Zaid says simply.
“Aye, aye, captain,” adds Rafael exuberantly.
Krystian remains silent, but that’s not necessarily a surprise. He may not be able to speak in his current position.
Our target—a wolf by the name of Dennis—stumbles just in front of the bar, his eyes glazed from intoxication and sweat coating his cheeks.
“How much did the fucker have to drink?” I ask no one in particular.
Krystian, who’s currently in the bar, says, “About…five?”
“Five what? Five beers? Five shots? Five fruity fucking cocktails?”
A feminine giggle sounds through my earpiece, and I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Of course Krystian would be using the opportunity to flirt. It’s not as if we’re on a job or anything like that.
“Following him now,” Zaid tells me, and below, a collection of shadows takes form and trails behind a stumbling, hiccupping Dennis.
Sometimes, I love my accelerated vision.
Other times, I fucking despise it.
Like right now, when I watch Dennis shove down his pants, grab his tiny cock, and aim it at the side of the building. A steady stream of piss gushes from it, and I wrinkle my nose in disgust.
“Is he peeing?” Amusement laces Rafe’s tone, and the psychopath breaks into laughter. “Please tell me he peed on Zaid.”
“Fuck off,” Zaid grumbles, still in his shadow form a few feet away, out of range of the piss shower.
Smart thinking.
As a wraith, Zaid is able to alternate between his real body and this shadowy, incorporeal one. Makes him a fucking terrific spy. However, he can only hold this form for about an hour and usually only during the day, when the shadows are the most prominent.
“Krystian, get into position,” I order.
There’s another feminine giggle, a heavy sigh, and then what sounds like footsteps.
“I apologize, ladies. I have to head out,” my elf teammate says formally, his British accent more pronounced than usual.
“Awww.”
“Really? You just got here?”
“Maybe we can change your mind…”
Three?Threewomen? Fucker’s only been in the bar for a half hour, at most, and spent most of that time watching Dennis and reporting his movements to us.
Of course, most women—human and supernatural alike—can’t resist Krystian, with his white-blond hair, golden skin, andslightly pointed ears. His good looks draw them in, but his sunny personality keeps them hooked.
