was one of the original writers, I don’t think anyone was in the mood to give him a real fight over it.”
“Hasan, eh? Old werecat and one of your bosses, right?”
“Yup. One of the two Tribunal werecats,” I said as we entered the main area of the Underground again. “He’s never taken an active role with the Executioners, though. He was long gone by the time I joined up, off to sulk about his daughter dying. If I remember right, my parents knew him, at least in passing.”
“You know many interesting people, Kaliya.” Paden chuckled as we made our way to the bar.
“And yet, I find you my favorite,” I said with a smile. “Now, get me a scotch,” I ordered as he went behind the bar and tapped his bartender on the shoulder. Henley looked up from his phone and rolled his eyes when Paden pointed at the cell.
“One scotch, coming right up,” Henley said. He was one of two werewolves who worked in the predominantly fae run bar. “I was just reading about that werecat thing. The Tribunal Trial you were just at. My Alpha put out an email about it.”
“It’s not a big deal,” I said patiently as he poured me a drink.
“It’s not,” he agreed. “I remember the war my kind had with them. Luckily, I was in the Americas already and could stay well out of it. Stupid fools. Only good thing that came of it was the Laws.”
I nodded. I hadn’t been born yet, but I knew my supernatural history. Before the werewolf-werecat war about eight hundred years ago, there had been no governing force over supernaturals. Deciding it was a bad idea to let every species of supernatural do whatever they wanted, a group got together, brokered peace, and created the Laws. The Tribunal, that original group, ruled over everyone, enforcing the Law.
“My Alpha is taking it as a big deal,” Henley mumbled, shaking his head as he slid the drink to me. “We’ll see how it goes. Not that you care,” he said, looking up at me.
“Not that I care,” I agreed, lifting my drink.
I sipped on it slowly as the Underground moved around me, different patrons coming up to order another round. No one spoke to me, keeping their eyes off me. Generally, when I disappeared for a few weeks, I came back with another name on my list of confirmed kills. It made the local lowlifes a little edgy for a couple of weeks. A stark reminder of who and what I was. I was the only sanctioned killer in the bar, the only one in Phoenix. Hell, I was the only one in the state of Arizona. Were there assassins out there working illegally? Certainly, but I could kill anyone and walk away without facing retribution in a way they couldn’t.
I worked hard to become someone that couldn’t be trifled with, and in my home state, there wasn’t a soul who didn’t know me or my reputation.
“Paden, Deacon said there were some new faces,” I mentioned after a moment. “Any I should worry about?”
“Not yet, but a ten-million-dollar bounty and a cold case tend to bring out the best in everyone,” he answered, looking around the Underground. “I made sure none of the new faces here tonight would be a problem for you or you a problem for them.”
I nodded in thanks. That much I knew, but he was right. Even if I didn’t get involved in this weird bounty, there was a chance I was going to be an Executioner before it was over. Paden tried his best to keep me and his other clientele satisfied, but most bounty hunters were also criminals. They ignored human crimes. The supernatural and the Tribunal didn’t care if one robbed a human bank as long as it wasn’t in a way that could expose everyone. They didn’t care if someone mugged a little old lady or committed fraud. Well, we all committed fraud on a regular basis, trying to hide our fortunes, so we could survive for another century.
Bounty hunters also had some legitimate criminals, ones I had to worry about. If one of the Wanted List showed up, I was required to take them down- capture or kill, it didn’t matter.
I finished my drink and picked up my bag. Paden slid my keys across the bar, knowing it was time for me to go.
“Paden, if I learn anything interesting, I’ll give you a call or stop by,” I promised as