A deal with the devil

I was caught in their trap, unsure what to do. As the woman stepped closer, I took a careful step back.

"That's enough!"

A sharp and commanding voice cut through the chaos, sending an involuntary shiver down my spine. The flames crackled around us, but my attackers froze, their expressions shifting from menace to unease.

"You have no business with us," the woman who had attacked me said with a trembling voice.

I turned my gaze toward the source of the voice, my heart pounding as a figure emerged from the fire. Her silhouette was regal, her steps unhurried, and her presence radiated an aura of undeniable power. My breath caught when I recognized her.

"Princess Ithil?" I whispered, disbelief washing over me. What was she doing here, outside the fae realm?

She came to stand beside me, her eyes narrowing on the group that had moments ago sought to end me. Her very presence seemed to bend the air around her, demanding reverence.

"You burn down my club and claim it isn't my business?" Ithil's voice was calm as she cocked her head to the side. Her eyes gleamed with an icy fire that made even the flames around us feel insignificant.

"What business do you have with the Hunter?" the witch asked.

Ithil's eyes glimmered with an amused cruelty as she stared down the witch. One by one, the attackers collapsed like puppets with their strings cut, their bodies hitting the floor in eerie synchronization. The only one left standing was the woman who had led the attack.

"What are you doing? You can't kill anyone within the club!" the witch shrieked, her earlier confidence replaced by panic.

Ithil chuckled, a sound as smooth as silk but laced with menace. "Kill them? Oh no, darling. They're merely sleeping... though they might remain so for many, many years." She tilted her head, a cruel smirk playing on her lips.

The sheer dominance Ithil exuded left no doubt in my mind—she was leagues above the rest. Even Night Hunters, the supposed keepers of order in the shadow world, avoided tangling with the fae. But the question that burned in my mind was why someone like her would bother protecting me.

"He's a different case! He's a Hunter!" the witch spat, her voice shaking but defiant.

Ithil didn't even dignify her with a response at first. Instead, she leaned toward me, her lips brushing close to my ear. My instincts screamed at me to flee, but her next words froze me in place.

"Blake," she said softly. "I know you're searching for your mother."

My heart stopped for a moment, the world around me fading into the background. I shifted back into my human form without hesitation, the spark of hope igniting like wildfire.

"Do you know where she is?" I didn't care that I sounded desperate. If she did, this could save me from chasing Ginevra's brother blindly.

Ithil straightened, her smirk deepening. "Sort of. But first, I need something from you."

Of course, I thought bitterly. A fae princess offering help without a price? Unthinkable. They were no better than demons, their promises always came with strings sharp enough to draw blood.

"Sort of? Do you or do you not know?" I growled through gritted teeth, fighting the urge to bare my teeth like the wolf within me. The last thing I wanted was to end up like the bodies strewn across the floor.

Ithil's eyes sparkled with mischief. "You know I can't tell you that. It would appear as though I'm allied with you."

"Then what do you want?" The words tightened around my throat. Whatever her price was, I had a feeling it wouldn't come cheap.

Ithil leaned closer as she whispered her request. My heart pounded in protest, the demand was too audacious, it was too dangerous.

"What? I can't do that," I said, my voice trembling. Fear coiled around me. I was desperate to find my mother and help my father, but was this truly the cost?

"You can, Blake," she replied smoothly. "I'll do my part to help you find your mother and protect you right now, but you must promise to get me what I want."

"It's suicide!" I barked, did she really think this was a fair trade? Was she feeding on my desperation?

Ithil's voice dipped into a mocking whisper, her breath unnervingly warm against my skin. "So is trying to find your mother on your own. You're all alone, Blake. No Angel, no Night Hunter, not even the night world."

Her words stung each one a truth I had been aware of. My mind tried its hardest to find another alternative, some acquaintance maybe, but my options dwindled into a single, unavoidable path.

"If you can't deliver," she continued, dropping her voice even dangerously low, "then you'll have to give me something else."

The air thickened with dread as her insinuation settled over me. I knew exactly what "something else" meant, but I feigned ignorance. "Like what?" I asked, my voice betraying the fear I tried to suppress.

Her lips curled into a sly grin. "We'll discuss that if you don't deliver."

I clenched my fists, glancing at the chaos surrounding us. Ithil had a lot of influence in many places—she commanded fear and respect from vampires, werewolves, witches, and everything else that skulked in the shadows. If anyone could help me, it was her.

"Fine," I said through gritted teeth. "What about if you don't deliver?"

Ithil released a sharp and dismissive laugh. "Oh, I will. Starting now."

She flicked her wrist, and the witch who had attacked me crumpled to the floor like a marionette with severed strings. The inferno that had threatened to engulf the nightclub stopped its relentless spread, now burning in eerie, frozen stillness.

"Let's seal this deal, shall we?" Ithil said.

I swallowed hard, my resolve faltering. Sealing a deal with a fae was a bond of absolute finality—there would be no escape. Either I fulfilled my promise, or I would pay a price too steep to imagine.

Before I could respond, Ithil brushed her lips against my cheek in a brief, chilling kiss. A surge of power washed over me, and I knew then that it was done.

Then, without another word, she opened a portal, the swirling light casting ominous shadows on the wrecked club. She stepped through and disappeared, leaving me alone with the gravity of my decision.

Dusting myself off, I stepped over the debris and exited the club. Another failed mission. Another weight on my shoulders. I trudged back home, the sting of my choice heavy with every step.

This wasn't a deal—it was a pact with the devil. But, in the end, I had chosen the lesser evil.

As I left the club and headed to my bike, I couldn't help but get the eerie feeling of being watched. Something darker than the devil I made a pact with was watching me. Waiting.

I revved the engine, the vibrations coursing through me as if trying to shake off the dread. Without a second glance, I sped off into the night, the city lights blurring around me.

But no matter how fast I went, the feeling stayed with me, lurking like a shadow I couldn't outrun. Whatever had set its sights on me had already marked me. A mark of death.