The Emperor of Evening Stars by Laura Thalassa

Chapter 11 How the Bargainer Came to Be

155 years ago

My booted heel digs into the shapeshifter’s neck. Of all of earth’s supernaturals, shapeshifters might be the shittiest fuckers out there. This one posed as a mangy street dog to hide from me.

“Aw,” I say, cocking my head, “did you think I wouldn’t find you?”

All around us the sounds of Calcutta drift in. Unfortunately for the man I’m grinding into the ground, no one’s going to stop in this back alley.

“Please—”

“You know what your problem is?” I ask casually, boot still on his neck. “It’s that all your kind think you can outwit me.” The shadows of this realm are particularly disloyal. It doesn’t take much to get them to talk.

I lean down and pull Edgar Worthington’s wrist back. One crude, black line is inked into the shapeshifter’s forearm.

“You have a debt to pay.” This is what I get for giving criminals a loose leash.

“I was going to pay it!” he says, his voice rising with the lie.

“You still are going to pay it,” I say. “Only now, you have additional interest.” On his forearm another black line begins to appear next to the first.

The shapeshifter begins to scream as the mark burns its way onto his skin.

“No—no!”

“Now you’re not just going to get me the names of all the soulmates registered in Europe, you’re going to get those recorded in the Americas as well.” This is by no means a foolproof plan to find my mate, but it’s a start.

He sputters. “I didn’t agree to this—”

I twist his arm. “You didn’t? Funny, I seem to remember you being all too eager to do my bidding when you wanted money.” I move in close to his ear. “This time, I suggest you actually fulfill your end of the bargain, or else you’ll find out why I’ve earned the reputation I have.”

With a quick jerk and a little magic, I break his left arm.

For one split second, Edgar’s face registers surprise. Then the pain sets in, and he begins to shriek. “You broke my fucking arm!”

“You have three weeks,” I say over his cries.

He’s sweating and gasping, still looking at his arm, until my words sink in. “Three weeks?” His attention snaps to me. “That’s—that’s impossible. It’ll take months to sail to Europe alone.”

“That’s why it’s a good thing you’re a shapeshifter.” He can turn into any creature he wants and swim or fly his way there.

I straighten, releasing him. Smoothing down my shirt, I turn on my heel.

“But my arm’s broken!” He cries out after me.

“Not my problem,” I say over my shoulder.

Back in the Otherworld, I’m ferocious, but honorable.

Here, I’m despicable and lawless. Here, I’m the Bargainer.