The Clan of Outcasts (Seasons 1 and 2)

Part 6: "Prey"

His bright blue gaze seemed to cut right through hers. "Not unless the cause is worth fighting for," he said.

His words seemed to lance a nerve center; her whole body went numb at the memory of—

"No!" She barked. "I take the job, I name all the terms. It's my body, I decide what risk it takes."

He grinned at her. "You can sure name them, but words do not guarantee implementation, especially not your words." He stood, still holding the brooch tightly in his gloved hand. "So, do we have a deal?"

The Dahlia pressed her lips and relaxed her stance. "I'm still thinking," she responded.

He shook his head. "Not good enough; either you accept the offer—"

"Or you can tell your employer to find another Hunter if she dares," the Dahlia hissed. She was rewarded with a flicker of his eyelids. "Don't presume to know me so well if we've only just met. I have plenty business on my own. You're going to have to sell a little harder if you want me to accept." She turned heel and began walking away.

"Very well," he said behind her, "I suppose we are doing this the hard way."

She heard him stand up, heard his hard-soled boots clacking behind her, but he never addressed her, so she kept walking as he fell into step behind her.

The minute they both emerged from the tavern, she felt the clink of cold steel around her wrist. She twisted, but he held.

"Dennahlia Firron!" The sound of her full name hit her like a blast from her own pistol. The man pulled up something on a chain hanging inside his jerkin and held it out. "You are hereby arrested for thievery and the marketing of stolen goods, and remanded into the service of the Twin Regents!"

One glimpse at the Royal Seal dangling in front of her face, and Dennahlia—the infamous Black Dahlia—wilted into compliance. She glared at the twinkling blue eyes. "You could have just told me who they were!" She snarled.

He shrugged as people gasped and pointed at this man leading the esteemed thief through the streets.

He chuckled. "Would you have believed me? As far as I can tell, it probably wouldn't have changed your answer any."

Dennahlia feinted and wrenched—but her bonds held. "Of course not!" She grunted. "Everybody knows you have to be crazy to put yourself on the payroll for those two." She tried another maneuver, stopping suddenly and thrusting her body toward him. He merely sidestepped and she stumbled backwards.

"I see what you did there," he mused. "I'm not crazy; I'm not on the payroll. Just an independent contractor—with a hefty bounty for bringing you in."

"Bounty hunter?" Dennahlia twisted to stare at him in surprise.

"Not usually—but they promised a hefty fee to whoever could bring them a Hunter—and they specifically named you. Naturally, as the only one in the room capable of actually finding you, I had to volunteer my services."

She rolled her eyes. "Naturally."

They arrived at the castle and the bounty hunter dragged the erstwhile thief all the way to the Inner Court, where a wide marble balcony overlooked the courtyard at the center of the castle.

There they stood, the infamous Regents: young, pale things in black clothes with deep, crimson hair. The girl wore hers straight down her back, while her brother's hair curled softly around his face and rested at his shoulders.

The Lady Regent clapped her hands and smiled when she saw the Black Dahlia. "Oh! You found her!" She cheered.

The Lord Regent just stared. Dennahlia refused to make eye contact with either of them.