The Legion had declared what happened at Brimstone an ‘incident’. Everyone else called it an all-out catastrophe. Of course bounty hunters were feeling skittish nowadays about going after vampires. I wouldn’t have taken the job either if I’d known the mark was one of them.

“The paranormal police can play dumb all they want, but the fact remains that something like this doesn’t just fall through the cracks,” I told the sheriff. “They knew. They must have.”

He didn’t say anything. He looked like he didn’t know what to say. Leland Wilder was a honest man, and the idea of anyone in his hierarchy lying just didn’t process. It overloaded his sense of justice.

So maybe I’d just have to kick him toward reality. “Lying to a bounty hunter about a fugitive’s supernatural status is against regulations,” I reminded him. “We were armed for a human, not a vampire. I nearly died tonight. My brother nearly died. I’m not letting this go. We’ll be filing a complaint with the government.”

“I wish I could too,” he muttered, so quietly that I wasn’t sure if I’d heard him right.

I didn’t comment on it anyway. This town’s sheriff’s office was severely understaffed and underfunded. The Magitech generator that powered their jail cells was their only indulgence—and there had been rumors that the government would be taking it away too. Magic wasn’t cheap. There were hundreds of Frontier towns screaming for upgrades, and not enough money to go around. I didn’t even want to think about how much it cost to maintain the wall. It stretched on for thousands of miles.

The self-professed district ‘lords’ here in Purgatory and other Frontier towns had offered to help with the funding problem, but that would just be trading one problem for another. The district lords were criminals themselves. In fact, the crime lords were already as big of a problem as the underfunded sheriff’s office. And once word got out about the job tonight—and bounty hunters learned that they couldn’t trust the information in their marks’ files anymore—the problem would only get worse.

“Leda, please don’t tell the other bounty hunters what happened tonight.”

“They have a right to know, Sheriff. They put their lives on the line every time they take a job.”

“I know. But this is just the thing the district lords were waiting for, their chance to move in. If bounty hunters stop taking jobs here, I’ll have to take the lords’ help. I don’t have to tell you what that will do to this town.”

Maybe the district lords had been behind this whole thing. Maybe they’d been the ones to make sure no one found out about Mark—until it was too late. It was exactly the sort of game they’d play. And if Zane and I had died, there would have been no containing this incident. Oh, the joys of being a pawn in someone else’s power play!

“It’s not up to me,” I told him. “It’s up to Calli to share or not share. But even if she decides not to tell people, it will eventually get out, you know.”

The sheriff sighed. “I know. I’ll have to think of something. Somehow.” He rubbed his head like life hurt. “Your payment is being transferred to the usual account.”

“Thanks.”

I opened the door and stepped out into the reception lounge. Zane and Carmen were sitting side-by-side on the edge of the desk, the vampire in the jail cell completely forgotten. It was amazing what a little flirting could cure. I waited while Zane lifted Carmen’s hand to his lips and softly kissed her fingertips. She giggled, giving him a little wave as we left the building. Like most young women, Carmen Wilder was not immune to my brother’s charms.

“Come on, Casanova,” I said, linking my arm in his. “Fighting vampires makes me hungry. Let’s get home for dinner before our dear sisters leave nothing left for us.”

We made it home without incident, well except for the Pilgrims who swarmed us on the corner of Chastity and Fifth. They trailed us for six blocks, waxing poetic about the gods’ divine message. They peppered their prose with copious quotes from the Book of the Gods, singing tales of how the gods had come to Earth to purge the land of monsters.

“If the gods are so powerful and the monsters have all been purged, then what are those things prowling around on the other side of that thirty-foot fence?” I couldn’t help but ask them.

The Pilgrims expressed their outrage at my impertinent remark—then wandered off to find someone else’s soul to save. By then, we were nearly home, and the cornucopia of delicious scents wafting out of the kitchen window drew us the rest of the way there.

Like most homes in Purgatory, our house was a modest one-story affair with four small bedrooms. I shared a bedroom with my sister Bella, while my other sisters Tessa and Gin shared theirs. Zane had his own room, a benefit of being the only man in the house. We called him the ‘Wild Card’ of Pandora’s Box, the family bounty-hunting business. Calli, our mom, ran the business, and we all helped out.

None of us were blood relatives, though we were all of supernatural blood. That didn’t mean we had any special powers, though. In fact, besides Bella and Zane, none of us did. Magic manifested differently in every person. Bella was a witch, Zane a telepath, and the rest of us were just a bit tougher and a little faster than normal humans. That was a huge asset in our line of work. Sometimes that extra edge meant the difference between catching your mark and watching it slip through your fingers.