2- Because There Was a Fire. I Wasn’t Entirely to Blame.

KACIA

I do my best to peer through the grime coated window of a seriously rundown building. I’m trying my best to look sneaky and competent while hanging awkwardly from the ledge like a squirrel that misjudged a jump. Classy, right? Honestly, I’d LIKE to think I look like a graceful spy. But between the jump I had to make to reach the window so I could actually look through it, and the way my boots are scrabbling against the wall for traction, I probably look more like a raccoon going through someone’s bins. In heeled boots, no less. I even went for the taller ones today, hoping for a few extra inches of intimidation. Spoiler alert, I’m still short. Whatever. I’ve accepted that I’m built more for agility than intimidation. People don’t usually look at me and think, ‘Oh yeah, she could absolutely break someone’s jaw.’ But the good thing about violence? You don’t actually need people to BELIEVE you can fight to win a fight. You just have to hit harder and faster than they expect. I’ve gotten good at that. My mother was always very determined that I would learn how to defend myself, but I don’t think she ever expected that I would need to use the skills I learned nearly as often as I do. In fact, I suspect that she would be totally horrified if she were around to see what I’m doing right now. She always was a little more reserved than me. Finally I get a decent grip and manage to pull myself up enough to get a decent look through the window. I can see a cluster of guys lounging around inside. Eleven of them by my count. They're drinking and laughing. Basically they’re totally relaxed, too relaxed. If this is the gang I think it is, they're far more dangerous than they look. Which, I guess, is kind of poetic. They’re my target. Probably. I think these are the ones responsible for the string of blood drained bodies being dumped in alleyways around the city. Whoever they are, they’ve been targeting anyone with strong magical signatures and draining their blood like it's happy hour. My first thought was vampires, but no single vampire can drink that much blood, and they have no reason to kill off their food source. It would be stupid of them to scare people off, especially when the media has popularised them so much lately. Sure, they’re nothing like what all the TV shows present them as, and yeah most people don’t really know supernatural stuff exists, but I know more than one vampire who has been enjoying the sudden popularity. I guess it’s a nice change from being considered a blood sucking creature of the night. But anyway, back to the case. The Human police don’t know what to do with cases like this, magic freaks them out, and they're not equipped to handle it. That’s where I come in. There aren’t any official magical police. Not here. Not anywhere, really. So people like me work freelance, bounty hunters for hire, taking on the jobs no one else can or will. This one’s technically unpaid, well, low pay, barely enough to cover the week’s groceries. It was posted by the cops, which usually means laughable reward money and no real leads. This is the kind of job people take because it’s personal or because they are glory seeking. I WAS going to pass on it. But Mikey, my friend in the department, well… Really he’s my only proper friend. He asked me to take a look, just as a personal favor to him. Apparently it was his case and he couldn’t figure it out. So I agreed to help because I COULD still use the money… And I’ve never been any good at telling him no.

Besides, stealing blood is beyond messed up. Even the local vampires have more class. They take what they need and leave the victim alive… Usually. This crew? They’re just dumping bodies like trash. Someone needs to stop them. My job is to figure out who’s in charge and bring them in. Alive, if possible. The cops want answers. I’m not holding my breath.

I scan the group through the dusty glass again. None of them have a magical aura. Nothing that glows. That’s odd, considering they can supposedly see magic. They would have to in order to know which people to take and drain. Seeing magic USUALLY means that someone has magic. Everyone who sees magic has magic. It's how it works. Well… Except me. As a half fae, I’m a bit of a glitch in the system. I can see magic, feel it, sense its presence. But I don’t have much actual power of my own. Just a few tricks here and there, inherited from the bloodline I never asked for. It's a frustrating trade off, being able to perceive something I can't truly use. From what I understand, you have to be able to see magic to manipulate it, so theoretically I should be able to. But I don’t actually HAVE much in the way of magic of my own. I’m not sure why. I’d ask another half fae, but I don’t know any. We aren’t exactly common. Even if there was another one around, I doubt that person would advertise their presence. But honestly? It’s better this way. The fae are a bunch of stuck up, manipulative jackasses. I’d rather be anything than like them. Sure, my father was fae, but I never knew him. He vanished before I was born. I don’t really know the details. I just know that my mum was left pregnant and alone. It’s easier to believe he was a jerk. If he was awful, I didn’t miss anything. If he wasn’t… Well, that’s a hole I’d rather not poke at. I sigh and refocus. None of the guys in the room look like magical powerhouses. Which means the leader’s probably behind that back door I can see. Classic setup, goons out front, boss hiding behind a locked door. I drop down from the window, landing lightly despite the boots. What I need now is a distraction. Something to get all those meatheads out of the building so I can poke around uninterrupted…

I adjust my outfit. I’m wearing a dark purple tank top and sturdy leather pants. It’s freezing out, and I immediately regret wearing something sleeveless. My arms are covered in goosebumps. I reach up and brush my hair, checking the sides out of habit. My ears are hidden. Good. That’s always a priority. As far as I know, the fae don’t know about me, and I want to keep it that way. My ears are too pointed to pass inspection for long, and I don’t need them catching wind that one of their kind got careless enough to leave behind a half fae kid. Once again, thanks dad… Over the years, I’ve mastered the art of hiding my ears. Strategic braids, scarf placements, hat angles, and enough hairspray and bobby pins to qualify as low grade armor all work fairly effectively. Today’s choice is twin braids with the hair layered over the tips, plastered into place with gel and hairspray like my life depends on it. Because sometimes, it kind of does. I sigh. My hair feels crunchy and stiff from the spray, and I’m pretty sure I didn’t wash all the dye out properly earlier today. It still smells vaguely like chemicals. Naturally, my hair is a deep, shimmering purple with pink undertones. Thanks for that fae genetics. Obviously, that’s not normal for a human, so I keep it dyed brown most of the time. I leave the very ends purple, though. A little vanity. A little rebellion. I dye my eyebrows, too, but the lilac hue of my eyes is harder to hide. Brown contact lenses help, though the muddy shade makes me look tired all the time.

Satisfied that everything is in place, I check my weapons. Katana strapped to my back. Daggers in my boots and belt. Everything is right where I need it. Now, all I need is that distraction. A shiver runs through me, not entirely from the cold, and that gives me an idea. Fire. It’s always been my favorite tool. Loud. Bright. Distracting. Perfect. I scout around and find the building’s external ventilation grate, low to the ground and easy to access. I stuff it with dry grass, bits of trash, even a crumpled flyer advertising palm readings. Anything remotely flammable. I shove it all in until the vent is packed tight. Then I pull out my lighter. No, I don’t smoke. But lighters are the unsung heroes of the bounty hunter toolkit. I flick it to life and set the whole thing ablaze. The fire catches quickly, and smoke starts to pour out almost immediately. I wedge a few decorative rocks into the vent to trap the smoke and force it inside. Not perfect, some still seeps out, but it’ll do. I duck into the shadows of a nearby alley, pressing into the darkness, heart pounding with anticipation. Let’s see how these guys like a little heat.