Elly pulled up to the curb in her ridiculous sky-blue hatchback, the “Support Your Local Chaos Witch” sticker already peeling at the corners like even the glue was embarrassed to be seen with her.

  She leaned over the passenger seat and popped the lock with a grin that was half-mischief, half-dare. Black leather jacket, snug but flexible—the kind that probably had a half-dozen charms stitched into the lining and more than one throwing knife hidden in the seams. Cute as a button nose, angular pixie-like features, dark hair grazing her jawline in a way that dared you to underestimate her. If you caught the angle just right, you could almost see the points of her ears through the glamour, shimmering hints that she wasn’t built for nine-to-five office work. Her eyes were too bright, starry if you let yourself look too long, the kind of gaze that said she already knew what you’d say next and was only waiting to laugh about it.

  I opened the door, hesitated. Hug? Handshake? Fistbump? Pretend we were just really committed to awkward silence?

  She raised one brow. “You comin’ in, or are you auditioning for mime school?”

  I slid in, muttering something about seatbelts and liability, and she just smirked like I’d already failed a test I didn’t know I was taking.

  The hatchback shuddered as Elly coaxed it into second gear. The sky-blue compact rattled like it resented being awake, lavender air freshener battling with the underlying tang of an overheated 4-cylinder and ozone.

  “Tell me again why we’re trusting this thing not to explode at highway speed?” I muttered, bracing against the door as we lurched forward.

  “Thirty-eight miles per gallon,” Elly said, smug. “And I charmed the timing belt last week. It’s technically immortal now.”

  “Technically,” I repeated. “That inspires so much confidence.”

  The stoplight ahead flipped green before we even reached it. Elly smirked at the road like she’d just won an argument no one else heard.

  “You did that on purpose,” I said.

  “Of course.” She tapped the wheel, satisfied. “Why waste time? The universe loves me.”

  “Pretty sure the DMV doesn’t,” I said.

  “Details.”

  For a few blocks, the hum of the car filled the silence. Her short hair stuck out at odd angles, damp from the shower she hadn’t completely dried off from. Every so often, I caught her watching the road a little too intently, like she was thinking about something else entirely.

  Finally, I said, “So… business is still booming.”

  “You mean your side hustle as Supernatural Make-Out Man?” she asked, dry.

  I winced. “Don’t call it that.”

  “It’s accurate.”

  “It’s gross. It cheapens the act of sharing my body fluids for the sake of supernatural power dampening.”

  “Exactly.”

  I groaned. “It’s not like I enjoy it. Do you know how awkward it is to sit in a coffee shop bathroom with some guy who wants to see if a spit-swab will turn off his shadow-snake tattoos?”

  Her head whipped around. “Daniel, wait—please tell me you didn’t mess with a Naga?”

  “I didn’t!” I said quickly. “I refused. But he followed me to the bathroom, posted up in the urinal next to me, and he asked if—uh—pee would work the same way.”

  Elly’s face contorted like she’d bitten into a lemon. “Daniel. No. Don’t ever even entertain that thought.”

  “I didn’t! I’m just saying, people are curious.”

  “Maybe stop using public restrooms altogether…”

  “It’s hard not to. People always buy me tea, energy drinks, or something to wet my whistle, and my bladder is only so large.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Curious is one thing. Bodily-fluid chemistry experiments is another. Promise me something, Brains.”

  “What?”

  “Never give up your blood.” She looked at me then, sharp and serious in a way that cut through all the usual playfulness. “Saliva is gross but fine. Blood is power. If you give that away, they’ll weaponize it. And you’ll never get it back.”

  I swallowed. “Okay. No blood. Got it.” At least we weren’t talking about other fluids. Yet.

  We hit another light. It turned green before we slowed. Elly smirked again, but the smile didn’t reach her eyes.

  “Any guesses on what Jade’s gonna want?” I asked, if only to break the quiet.

  “Besides your eternal servitude?”

  “That’s not funny.”

  She drummed her fingers on the wheel. “Jade’s consolidating. You’ve noticed it, right? Every family, every coven, every half-ass cult leader with a basement altar—they’re all paying tribute. A little money here, a little favor there. She’s fattening her hoard.”

  “Dragon grandma with a boba habit,” I muttered.

  “Exactly.” Elly’s tone was bitter under the humor. “She’s playing the long game. Whatever she asks from you, it’s going to feed that hoard and/or consolidate her power. One way or another.”

  We fell into silence again, the weight of Jade’s shadow filling the cramped car.

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  Then, softly, Elly said, “You didn’t have to ask me to come.”

  I blinked. “What?”

  “You could’ve asked Eury.”

  I hesitated. The words I wanted—Because I trust you. Because you’re the one I want there—stuck in my throat. Instead, I shrugged. “Eury would just judge me the whole time. I need someone who’ll tell me I’m an idiot to my face.”

  She barked a laugh, but her grip on the wheel tightened.

  “Well,” she said, forcing a smile, “lucky you. I’m excellent at that.”

  The next three lights flipped green in a row.

  “Show off.” I muttered, earning a broad grin.

  “You love it… ya big ole idiot.”

  The travel agency smelled like paper, ink, and something sweetly metallic under the air freshener. Posters of cruise ships and tropical islands faded in the sunlit glass. Ordinary enough for anyone off the street. But the moment we stepped in, the air changed—thicker, humming at my ears like an engine warming up.

  The receptionist didn’t even glance up when the bell jingled. She sipped her boba, perfect skin and sharp eyes betraying nothing human, then swirled her straw in the cup like she’d been waiting just for me.

  “Mr. Mercer. Miss Elly. You’re expected.”

  The way she said it made me feel like I’d been late.

  I hated that word. Expected. Like I was a delivery order she’d been tracking on her phone.

  Elly gave me a side-eye. “Oh, good. She’s got our ETA.”

  I grunted. “What’s the over/under on more dumplings?”

  The receptionist’s lips twitched upward. I didn’t like that either.

  She ushered us through the mundane lobby, with its travel brochures and postcard racks to the next room, where the real show began. Folding tables stacked high with neat bricks of cash, jewelry spread like poker chips, and stranger treasures: coins that weren’t U.S. currency, a bowl of keys that jingled even though no one touched them, a weighing scale holding what looked suspiciously like powdered bone.

  The people handling them were quiet, efficient, focused. Not thugs. Clerks. Which was scarier, somehow. Gems caught the overhead light. Somebody was literally weighing an urn full of teeth. The quiet buzz of a counting machine set the rhythm, like a drug den that traded in more than money.

  At the far end sat Jade. Still the same as when I’d last seen her: grandmotherly smile, hair pulled into a neat bun, round glasses perched low on her nose, and a shawl draped across her shoulders. She was the very picture of warmth—if you didn’t look too close at the sharpness in her eyes, or the way everyone else in the room tilted their posture just slightly toward her, like plants leaning to sunlight.

  If you didn’t know better, you’d think she was about to recommend a vacation package to Bermuda.

  “Daniel,” she said warmly. Then, with a slight tilt of her head, “Elly.”

  My skin prickled. I hated being summoned. Dumplings or no dumplings.

  “Uh,” I said, hovering like an idiot. “You wanted to see me?”

  She gestured at the chairs across from her desk. A desk that, unlike the chaos behind us, was completely clear. Not a scrap of paper. Not a pen. Just a little porcelain plate with dumplings cooling in steam.

  “Not wanted, Daniel. Expected.”

  I sat, because what else was I supposed to do? Elly didn’t sit. She leaned on the back of the chair, eyes flicking around, cataloguing everything, like a lawyer prepping cross-examination.

  “So this is about the assistance in rescuing Lily, right?”

  Jade folded her hands, voice sweet as syrup. “You said you owed me one.”

  My stomach did a flip. I remembered. Too well. “I—yeah. But—”

  “Oh no.” Elly’s groan was pure despair. “Tell me you didn’t leave it that vague. Please tell me.”

  “It was vague. Deliciously so.” Jade confirmed. “Words matter.”

  I winced. “And… I may have said we.”

  Jade’s smile sharpened. For just an instant, her teeth seemed a little too long. “Yes. We. Much broader. Much more useful.”

  Elly slapped my shoulder. “Unbelievable. Do you know how binding that is? Do you know how many ways she can twist that?”

  “Hey, I was a little busy saving Lily’s ass!” I hissed.

  Jade cleared her throat softly. It sounded like velvet, but it pressed down like a weight. “What I require is simple. Service. Together. As a team. An enforcement arm for my interests in this city.”

  Elly bristled. “Define service.”

  Jade’s eyes glittered, the irises slit-pupiled for just a breath before human again. “To stand when I point. To move when I command. To… rebalance the scales where necessary.”

  “That’s vague as hell,” I muttered. “What’s the timeline? A week? A month? The rest of my life? You can’t just—”

  Jade tilted her head. Her glasses glinted, but her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Why not? I didn’t say the words, Daniel. I only accepted what you gave in exchange for helping you to rescue Lily.”

  The hair on the back of my neck stood up. Elly crossed her arms, every syllable careful now. “So. You want them—Daniel and Lily—indefinitely in your service.”

  “Correct.” Jade’s nails tapped her desk—claws, for the briefest flicker, before smoothing back to manicured tips. “They function well as a pair. Packages of two can be very… efficient.”

  Her smile turned sharp again. Greedy. Hungry. For an instant, her lips peeled back too far, showing teeth not meant for chewing dumplings.

  Daniel Mercer, professional idiot, opened his mouth. “Look, when I said that, it was about Lily. You saved her. It should just be my debt, right?”

  Jade’s head turned toward me in a motion too smooth, too reptilian. “And yet she is tethered to you. Where she walks, you follow. Where you stand, she watches. In binding her, I bind you both. Efficient.”

  Elly slammed both hands on the desk. “That’s entrapment! Even demons don’t stretch wording like that!”

  “Demons are blunt.” Jade’s voice didn’t rise, but the whole room seemed to hush, even the counting machines faltering for a second. “Dragons, dear, are thorough.”

  The word dragons made the air heavier. I could almost hear the scales rustling under her skin.

  “Okay, okay,” I said quickly, hand raised. “Hypothetically, let’s say we play ball. What’s off-limits? I can’t exactly murder a senator for you without ending up on death row.”

  Jade chuckled. “You flatter yourself. I have others for such grisly tasks. No, I would not waste my newest acquisition so cheaply. Your value lies in what you are.”

  Which, of course, was news to me. “Uh, what I am is semi-employed at a tech support company. Broke. Mildly allergic to grapefruit, and intolerant of imitation crab meat...”

  Jade’s grin spread wider. “Nulls are very rare, Daniel. A man who walks among powers and cancels them without meaning to? Invaluable. With Lily’s appetites and your… immunity, you are an exquisite set.”

  Elly was practically vibrating. “No, absolutely not. This isn’t happening. He didn’t give informed consent, and Lily wasn’t even present to sign off on such a deal, and you know it.”

  Jade’s eyes glowed faintly amber now, the dragon peeking through. “Consent was given. It was spoken. I could call it in now.”

  Elly’s face hardened. “Or,” she said, voice sharp as glass, “you could take me instead, and I’ll do three specific tasks within a month.”

  The entire room went still. Even the guy weighing the urn of teeth froze.

  My brain stalled. “Elly. What the—no.”

  Elly didn’t look at me. Her gaze was locked on Jade. “You get your fae trickster. That satisfies your contract.”

  “One for two does not satisfy me.” Jade’s nostrils flared, smile curving like a cat finding cream. “Perhaps I could trade Lily for you, though. You would trade yourself for her, and say five specified tasks within a month, both of you included on each?”

  “Elly!” I grabbed her wrist. “No, this isn’t your call.”

  Finally, she looked at me. Her eyes burned bright, pupils star-shaped. “It is when it’s you and Lily on the line.”

  Jade inhaled, the sound more like a hiss than a breath, and for a flash her face rippled—scales, teeth, slit eyes, claws gripping the arms of her chair. Then it was gone, as though she’d never moved.

  “I accept,” she said softly. A self-satisfied smile crossed her lips for the briefest of instants.

  The words settled like chains dropping onto stone.

  And just like that, it was done. My best friend had just sold herself to help me. We were Jade’s to command, doing anything she asked. Five times.

  She handed over a burner phone, saying, “Details will follow.”

  I took the phone reluctantly from her hand, grabbing it as if I might pet a cobra.

  Jade owned us for a month.