Some people in Purgatory romanticized the paranormal soldiers. My sister Tessa was one of them. I’d never understood why she was so enamored with them, why she considered them heroic and brave. A vampire had once beaten me bloody right in front of them, and they hadn’t lifted a finger to help. They’d never lifted a finger to help anyone else in town either. They were cowards.

At least that was what I’d always thought. Now that I was a soldier myself, I found myself revisiting my previous prejudice. Like soldiers of the Legion, they weren’t allowed to interfere. They were supposed to follow orders to the letter, and getting mixed up in local affairs was not part of that.

“Back when I was a kid living on the streets, I used to play pranks on the paranormal soldiers,” I told Drake.

“Oh?” He didn’t look the least bit surprised. “What kind of pranks?”

“Mostly I just stole their food, but sometimes I’d steal their guns and plant them on their comrades.”

“Oh, really?” His brows lifted in challenge.

“You want me to prank them now?”

“I’m daring you to do it.”

“Sure, why not?” I rose from my seat. “We have some time to kill.”

I slipped off my jacket, evidence of my affiliation with the Legion. This wasn’t going to work if they weren’t at ease—and a soldier of the Legion would not put them at ease. Captain Somerset, seated at the other end of the carriage, watched me strip out of my jacket with great amusement. Beside her, Nero didn’t look amused. He didn’t look much of anything, in fact. His face was a mask of hard marble. The other eight soldiers didn’t even look up from their own card game.

I waved my hand to open the door and stepped into the paranormal soldiers’ carriage. Twelve clean-cut men in well-ironed uniforms looked up as I entered. Their eyes started at my crop top, sliding down to my fitted shorts, then back up again. This was going to be too easy.

“Hey, boys,” I said with a little wave. I wasn’t a first class flirt like my sister Tessa, but I’d found in my years as a bounty hunter, that the words coming out of my mouth were far less important than what I was wearing. “You think I could join you?”

“Of course,” one of them said as they all shifted around to make space for me.

“Thanks,” I said, smiling as I took a seat.

“You know how to play Legion, peaches?” a man with a phoenix tattoo on his neck asked, dealing me ten cards.

More than you do. I’ve survived the real thing, pumpkin. But I just kept smiling. “I think I can figure it out.”

“Just let me know if you need a hand.” He winked at me.

“Or a sword.”

They laughed.

Har, har. I hope you’re all better at playing cards than at making innuendoes.

Phoenix Tattoo opened the game with the vampire card. I let the first round play out before bringing out the real magic.

“Stop,” I said, and they all froze, their eyes blank. “Set your cards on the table, face up.”

They obeyed. My gaze panned across their cards. There was no reason I couldn’t prank the soldiers and practice compulsion at the same time.

“Actually, I don’t need a sword,” I told the man who’d so generously offered to loan me his sword. “But I will take your angel.”

I snatched a card with a half-nude angel on it. With her long black hair and shimmery pale skin, she bore an uncanny resemblance to Nyx—but I’d never seen the First Angel straddling a motorcycle in her lingerie. Who the hell had designed this deck?

I gave him my monster card in exchange, then directed my attention to the other players’ cards. One of them had an angel too, which I immediately nabbed for myself. This angel was the spitting image of Nero, though I’d never seen Nero carrying a fire sword as tall as he was. I turned the card, trying to figure out how you’d even swing a sword that big. I decided it was impossible, even for an angel.

The soldier got my initiate, a fellow with a weak willpower stat, so he probably wouldn’t make it far anyway. I couldn’t help but feel bad for the two-dimensional drawing on the card. Just like in real life, he’d never had a chance.

My exchanges complete, I looked at the soldiers and said, “Resume.”

They picked up their cards and began to play like nothing had happened. The two guys I’d traded with squinted at their cards, confused. They must have been wondering where their angels had gone—or if they’d ever really had them or just imagined it.

I glanced back at the door between the cars. Drake stood there, looking through the glass window, struggling to contain his amusement.

“You’re cheating,” one of the soldiers growled, drawing my attention back to the game. But he wasn’t looking at me. His angry eyes were focused on the man to his right. “That blue fairy card you played was mine. I had it in my hand just a moment ago.”

To spice things up, I’d rearranged some of the soldiers’ cards. That was even more fun than pilfering them for myself.

“Well, that witch coven leader card was mine,” he shot back.

“Where’s my werewolf?”

“My healing potions are gone!”

The soldiers were shouting now, each one louder than the last. Cards flew across the table, mixing together into a sloppy heap. I looked at the door again, expecting to find Drake laughing his ass off. What I found instead made my heart stutter in alarm.