Chapter 10: Black-Market Signals

The shop was barely visible from the outside.

Wedged between a tattoo parlor and a laundromat that smelled like regret, the windows were blacked out and the door had a sign that read:

"We're not open. Try anyway."

Naturally, Darian walked straight in.

The scent hit me first—dust, ozone, burnt plastic, and something sharp underneath. Magic.

Corrupted, masked, wrong.

Inside, it looked like every human device ever made had been crammed into a single room.

Laptops, tablets, wires strung across the ceiling like spiderwebs. Glowing monitors buzzed softly. Old phones flickered on dusty shelves, some still ringing.

And behind the counter stood a woman.

She had wavy brunette hair falling just below her shoulders, glowing dark brown eyes, and warm amber-brown skin that shimmered faintly in the overhead lights. A long, dark coat covered a fitted outfit that looked both expensive and stolen. She moved like someone who could kill you and then sell your soul for data.

She was undeniably beautiful.

But not a single part of me reacted.

That's how it worked.

Immortals didn't experience attraction unless it was their soulmate.

She was beautiful.

We just didn't care.

Sylas leaned in and whispered, "I feel like she'd stab us if we asked nicely."

"Shh," I muttered. "You might give her ideas."

The woman looked up from the enchanted screen in her hands, eyes gleaming.

"Well," she said, voice low and sharp like a glass of wine in a burning house, "I don't usually get customers with your kind of scent. You're not from around here."

Darian didn't flinch. "We need three phones. The most modern you have. No biometric tracking. No linked accounts. Cash."

She arched a perfectly sculpted brow. "Color?"

He glanced at me.

"Black," he said.

Sylas made a noise. "Boring. I want something with life. Blue. Or green. Something vibrant. You know—like my soul."

I watched Darian's jaw tense just slightly. He said nothing.

The woman hummed. "I'll check in the back. Might take a minute if you're picky."

She slipped behind a velvet curtain, and the moment she was out of sight, I turned to Darian.

"Where's the dagger?"

His eyes flicked to me, instantly guarded. "Not here."

I crossed my arms. "You've been dancing around this since you teleported us. Why do we need it? Why now?"

Darian didn't answer. He glanced toward the curtain, then back at me. His meaning was clear.

We're not alone.

But I wasn't letting this go.

"Oh please," I said under my breath. "She's clearly not human. And living here? She's breaking more laws than us. She won't care."

Darian didn't move, but his expression shifted—reluctant agreement.

He was about to speak when the curtain rustled and the witch returned.

"No blue," she said. "But I've got one in red and one in pink."

Sylas immediately reached for the red.

He never made it.

I snatched it off the counter first, holding it up to the light.

It wasn't just red.

It was blood red.

Dark, rich, violent. The kind of red that reminded me of fresh kills and battlefield stains.

The same color I painted my lips with.

The same color that lingered in my memories, dripping from the throats of traitors.

A slow smile spread across my face.

"This," I said, staring at it with affection, "is the exact color of my enemies' blood."

The room went quiet.

The witch blinked, clearly disturbed.

Darian smirked like I'd just recited a love poem.

And Sylas sighed—long and theatrical.

"I wanted that one."

I turned my head slowly and gave him a look.

Just one.

He put his hands up in surrender. "Right. Obviously yours. I love pink. Always have."

He reached for the pink phone with the hesitation of someone picking up a live grenade.

"This is ridiculous," he muttered. "Absolutely tragic. What kind of self-respecting fairy assassin carries a pink phone?"

"You could take the black one," Darian offered, far too calmly.

Sylas recoiled. "That's even worse. It's like carrying around a funeral."

Darian raised an eyebrow. "That's the point."

Sylas groaned, hugged the pink phone dramatically to his chest, and whispered, "Don't judge me."

Darian turned back to the witch and said, "Where can I get a car?"

She tilted her head slightly, eyes narrowing. "Why?"

He didn't answer.

Didn't blink.

Just looked at her.

The kind of look that said, you don't want to push this question.

And for a moment, the air changed.

He didn't do anything dramatic. No glowing eyes. No magic surge.

But it was in his posture. The way his shadow stretched. The way the light hit the sharp line of his jaw.

He didn't need to say it.

He was dangerous.

And unfortunately, gorgeous.

Of course.

Because the gods were cruel and my soulmate had to look like a walking weapon of war dressed by a very expensive apocalypse.

The witch tried to act unbothered. She failed.

"I can get you a car," she said, voice slightly tighter.

I stepped forward. "Where are we going?"

Darian didn't answer.

"And where's the dagger?" I snapped. "We came all the way here and you still haven't said what we're even looking for."

He exhaled slowly, like he'd been bracing for this.

"I don't know exactly where it is."

Sylas groaned dramatically. "You don't know?"

"I know it's here," Darian said calmly. "In this city. Somewhere in New York. That's why we're getting the car."

Aurora and I exchanged looks of pure exasperation.

"What the hell are we supposed to do?" I said. "Drive around until someone waves it out a window?"

Darian ignored the tone. "I have an apartment here. We rest there tonight. Then tomorrow—"

"Wait," Sylas cut in. "What's an apartment?"

I spoke at the same time: "Why are we waiting until tomorrow?"

Darian held up a hand.

"A student at a local community college claims to have seen someone holding the dagger. The story was vague. Sketchy. But it's the only lead we have. We'll interrogate them tomorrow."

I opened my mouth to say what the actual hell is a community college—

But the words didn't come.

Because suddenly it felt real.

We weren't just hiding anymore.

We were hunting.

The dagger was somewhere in this chaos-ridden city.

And we were going to find it.