I lashed out, punching him in the throat. His eyes bulged and he gagged. I kneed him in the crotch, grinning when he keeled over.
“Hey!” A burly man with a beard lunged for us, his buddy beside him following. “That’s no way—”
“To treat a guy?” I finished for him as I kicked out at him. My tall, heavy boots collided with his chest, sending him flying backward. I never used my magic—didn’t want to go to jail and didn’t want to blow things up—but I sure as hell could fight.
His friend raised his hand and sent a blast of wind at us. It threw me backward, sending me skidding across the floor.
By the time I’d scrambled to my feet, a brawl had broken out in the bar. Fists flew left and right, with a bit of magic thrown in. Nothing bad enough to ruin the bar, like jets of flame, because no one wanted to destroy the only watering hole for a hundred miles, but enough that it lit up the air with varying magical signatures.
Nix conjured a baseball bat and swung it at a burly guy who charged her, while Del teleported behind a horned demon and smashed a chair over his head. I’d always been jealous of Del’s ability to sneak up on people like that.
All in all, it was turning into a good evening. A fight between supernaturals was fun.
“Enough!” the bartender bellowed. “Or no more beer!”
The patrons quieted immediately. Fights might be fun, but they weren’t worth losing beer over.
I glared at the jerk who’d started it. There was no way I’d take the blame, even though I’d thrown the first punch. He should have known better.
The bartender gave me a look and I shrugged, hiking a thumb at the jerk who’d touched me. “He shoulda kept his hands to himself.”
“Fair enough,” the bartender said.
I nodded and turned to find Nix and Del. They’d grabbed our beers and were putting them on a table in the corner. I went to join them.
We were a team. Sisters by choice, ever since we’d woken in a field at fifteen with no memories other than those that said we were FireSouls on the run from someone who had hurt us. Who was hunting us.
Our biggest goal, even bigger than getting out from under our current boss’s thumb, was to save enough money to buy concealment charms that would hide us from the monster who hunted us. He was just a shadowy memory, but it was enough to keep us running.
“Where is Clarence, anyway?” I pulled my damp tank top away from my sweaty skin. The jungle was damned hot. We couldn’t break into the temple until Clarence gave us the information we needed to get past the guard at the front. And we didn’t need to spend too much longer in this bar.
Del glanced at her watch, her blue eyes flashing with annoyance. “He’s twenty minutes late. Old Man Bastard said he should be here at eight.”
Old Man Bastard—OMB for short—was our boss. His name said it all. Del, Nix, and I were FireSouls, the most despised species of supernatural because we could steal other magical being’s powers if we killed them. We’d never done that, of course, but OMB didn’t care. He’d figured out our secret when we were too young to hide it effectively and had been blackmailing us to work for him ever since.
It’d been four years of finding and stealing treasure on his behalf. Treasure hunting was our other talent, a gift from the dragon with whom legend said we shared a soul. No one had seen a dragon in centuries, so I wasn’t sure if the legend was even true, but dragons were covetous, so it made sense they had a knack for finding treasure.
“What are we after again?” Nix asked.
“A pair of obsidian daggers,” Del said. “Nice ones.”
“And how much is this job worth?” Nix repeated my earlier question. Money was always on our minds. It was our only chance at buying our freedom, but OMB didn’t pay us enough for it to be feasible anytime soon. We kept meticulous track of our earnings and saved like misers anyway.
“A thousand each.”
“Damn, that’s pathetic.” I slouched back in my chair and stared up at the ceiling, too bummed about our crappy pay to even be impressed by the stonework and vines above my head.
“Hey, pretty ladies.” The oily voice made my skin crawl. We just couldn’t get a break in here. I looked up to see Clarence, our contact.
Clarence was a tall man, slender as a vine, and had the slicked back hair and pencil-thin mustache of a 1940s movie star. Unfortunately, it didn’t work on him. Probably because his stare was like a lizard’s. He was more Gomez Addams than Clark Gable. I’d bet anything that he liked working for OMB.
“Hey, Clarence,” I said. “Pull up a seat and tell us how to get into the temple.”
Clarence slid into a chair, his movement eerily snakelike. I shivered and scooted my chair away, bumping into Del. The scent of her magic flared, a clean hit of fresh laundry, as she no doubt suppressed her instinct to transport away from Clarence. If I had her gift of teleportation, I’d have to repress it as well.
“How about a drink first?” Clarence said.
Del growled, but Nix interjected, her voice almost nice. She had the most self control out of the three of us. “No can do, Clarence. You know… Mr. Oribis”—her voice tripped on the name, probably because she wanted to call him OMB—“wants the daggers soon. Maybe next time, though.”
“Next time.” Clarence shook his head like he didn’t believe her. He might be a snake, but he was a clever one. His chest puffed up a bit. “You know I’m the only one who knows how to get into the temple. How to get into any of the places in this jungle.”
“And we’re so grateful you’re meeting with us. Mr. Oribis is so grateful.” Nix dug into her pocket and pulled out the crumpled envelope that contained Clarence’s pay. We’d counted it and found—unsurprisingly—that it was more than ours combined, even though all he had to do was chat with us for two minutes. I’d wanted to scream when I’d seen it.
Clarence’s gaze snapped to the money. “All right, all right.”
Apparently his need to be flattered went out the window when cash was in front of his face. Couldn’t blame him, though. I was the same way.
“So, what are we up against?” I asked.
The temple containing the daggers had been built by supernaturals over a thousand years ago. Like other temples of its kind, it was magically protected. Clarence’s intel would save us a ton of time and damage to the temple if we could get around the enchantments rather than breaking through them.
“Dvarapala. A big one.”
“A gatekeeper?” I’d seen one of the giant, stone monster statues at another temple before.
“Yep.” He nodded slowly. “Impossible to get through. The temple’s as big as the Titanic—hidden from humans, of course—but no one’s been inside in centuries, they say.”
Hidden from humans was a given. They had no idea supernaturals existed, and we wanted to keep it that way.
“So how’d you figure out the way in?” Del asked. “And why haven’t you gone in? Bet there’s lots of stuff you could fence in there. Temples are usually full of treasure.”
“A bit of pertinent research told me how to get in. And I’d rather sell the entrance information and save my hide. It won’t be easy to get past the booby traps in there.”
Hide? Snakeskin, more like. Though he had a point. I didn’t think he’d last long trying to get through a temple on his own.
“So? Spill it,” I said, anxious to get going.
He leaned in, and the overpowering scent of cologne and sweat hit me. I grimaced, held my breath, then leaned forward to hear his whispers.
As soon as Clarence walked away, the communications charms around my neck vibrated. I jumped, then groaned. Only one person had access to this charm.
I shoved the small package Clarence had given me into my short’s pocket and pressed my fingertips to the comms charm, igniting its magic.
“Hello, Mr. Oribis.” I swallowed my bile at having to be polite.
“Girls,” he grumbled.
Nix made a gagging face. We hated when he called us girls.
“Change of plans. You need to go to the temple tonight.”
“What? But it’s dark. We’re going tomorrow.” He never changed the plans on us. This was weird.