Page 40 of The Immortal Tailor

“Thank you again for saving me,” said a quiet, feminine voice from his side. “I promise I’ll never forget what you did.”

He turned his head toward the woman wearing his shredded blazer and her control-top panties. She was the only guest who’d survived, though he hadn’t been trying to save her. He’d been attempting to get the were-eagle to go with him.

“I just want to ask you a few questions!” He’d waved his hands in the air to get the were’s attention as it sliced, diced, and flung body parts all over the garden.

The were had then turned her attention toward him and charged. He’d whipped out the pocketknife from his boot, feeling completely ridiculous for carrying such a wimpy blade, and poked the thing in the claw. The bird shrieked and recoiled, quickly getting distracted by a man trying to climb the garden wall.

Behind him, Damien had heard a soft whimper, and that was when he realized the woman in the control-top had been behind him the entire time. The eagle had wanted her, not him.

Either way, the eagle had finished off the other guests and started its own personal bonfire before flying off into the night.

“I mean it,” said the woman. “I’m forever in your debt. Anything you want. Money, a new car, me? It’s yours.” She offered a coy smile.

Tailor, you know you have to kill her, right? She can’t be trusted and will tell the others in her depraved social circle what happened. And she knows your face.

Damien wasn’t ready to come to any conclusions just yet.

“Why were you at that party?” he asked her.

“A friend invited me. I had no idea they were going to have that creature there,” she said innocently.

She was lying. Just like she’d lied about her knockoff Valentino to impress her rich friends.

“Try again. With the truth this time. What was Vincente raising the money for? What did he plan to do with it?”

“I honestly don’t know. My friend just told me the governor’s brother was having a party and asked if I wanted to go. She said he collected exotic creatures. That’s all I know.”

Damien would never go so far as to call himself a living lie detector, but people always had tells. The most common? When a person looked away while giving an answer. Also, this woman was faker than her knockoff dress.

You know what you must do, tailor. She will be able to identify your face, and Vincente’s brother will be after you next.

“Do you really work for some sort of monster animal control?” she asked.

See. She’s fishing for information, tailor.

His beast was right. The first chance she had, she’d be telling her sick friends about him. The hunter would become the hunted.

Damien turned his body toward her. “Yes, I work for a very secret, powerful organization. And I would appreciate it if you did not say anything about what you witnessed. It might cause a public scare.”

“I won’t say a word,” she said, batting her eyelashes.

He took her hand and kissed the top. “I hope you have a good night’s sleep. Tomorrow, just pretend it was all a bad dream and move on.”

She got out of his Jeep and closed the door, heading down the walkway toward her front door.

She’d be dead by morning. He’d opened his heart to her, extending his compassion. She had no idea this was the end of the road.

Good job, tailor.

“Shut the fuck up.” This was the exact reason he’d stopped being a fixer. It was why he didn’t want to do this job for the gods. Innocent people ended up getting in the way. Not that this woman was necessarily innocent, but was she any worse than most? How about compared to himself?

Suddenly, a loud shriek went off outside his Jeep. He leaned forward, looking out the windshield. The woman was gone.

Damien stepped outside and watched the giant winged creature carrying off a limp body. The were-eagle had come for the last guest.

I’m always impressed, tailor. Your curse is very effective.

“Silence. No one asked you.”