Chapter 10

Breaking into the Jolly Hellhound in the middle of the night when we couldn’t contact anyone to open the pub for us to access the portal wasn’t résumé-appropriate, but we weren’t going to lose sleep over it either.

Sach eased the door open, and I sprinted for the alarm system, describing it to my longtime informant Rukhsana Gill over the phone.

While I hadn’t seen her since she’d been attacked over the mistaken belief that she’d stolen Sire’s Spark, she’d reached out after finding new digs. The young Frenchwoman didn’t just run a small crew at a chop shop, she was plugged into all levels of society here in town and had loads of intel at her fingertips.

Much like someone else I knew and probably why the two of them had hit it off.

Rukhsana yawned and had me read the model number of the alarm system.

“Ten seconds.” Sach was behind the bar with a countdown app, searching for the button to open the portal door.

We couldn’t be certain how long we had before the alarm was triggered but we’d erred on the conservative side.

I punched in the manufacturer’s reset code that Rukhsana rattled off, muttering at it to hurry up. The light on the pad went from red to green a split second before the timer on Sach’s phone beeped, and I heaved a sigh of relief. “Thanks, Rukhsana.”

“No problem, chère. I’ll send you an encrypted text with my new account details for payment.”

I winced. We’d graduated to encrypted? That level of security was for sure going to be folded into what she charged me. “Understood.”

“We’re good to go,” Sachie said.

We jogged into the back room where the portal to the Copper Hell was located. The space was private but basic: four small tables, each with a beat-up lampshade overhead, a clanky baseboard heater, and a metal door that opened to the portal.

“Ready?” Sachie said.

Not even a bit. I wanted to catch my breath and have a second to decompress from the blackmail attempt. We’d cleaned up the Play Palace, double-checked that all the footage was erased, and verified the security system had no internet connection.

Sach had driven my car to the Jolly Hellhound like a speed demon (which, as far as I was aware, was not a thing), with Maud in the back, holding the manila envelope with all the cash and explaining why she was anxious to get back to Hong Kong.

It turns out being a world champion poker player involved a lot more than showing up to kill it at a tournament and then fuck off to some glamorous location to enjoy the winnings. Maud spent hours using specialized software to review every losing hand she played and checking for leaks so she could learn from her mistakes. She constantly analyzed every step of her play, and that of her opponents. Mad respect to my sister; her dedication and training made her the Tiger Woods of poker.

Even Sachie was blown away by the work Maud put into her craft, which hopefully would win my best friend over should she ever learn the truth about my sister.

Once we reached the pub, I gave Maud my keys to drive herself to the airport. The valet parking charges would be a bitch, but I’d get my keys and car back later today.

Hating this rushed goodbye, I’d promised to touch base with her soon. It wasn’t just about keeping her updated, the two of us needed to have an overdue talk about who we really were to each other.

The attackers were dead, no footage had been live streamed, and we had a solid clue. I should have been enjoying this win, not feeling cold and hollow.

I motioned at the metal door. “Go for it.”

The first time I’d gone through the portal into the Copper Hell, some presence had unravelled me, cutting off my awareness of Cherry while simultaneously forcing my shedim body front and center. The second time, there were no issues with the portal, but I’d faced Delacroix’s true form—a giant serpent—and honestly, had been allowed to leave only because it amused him to keep me alive.

Ezra hadn’t ordered us to glamor or take off our Maccabee rings, but I still tensed when Sach said “See you on the other side” and stepped into the mesh net of magic light woven across the open doorway.

Hopefully, this time, we’d both make it out.

I waited for a minute in case she bounced right out like on her last attempt, then followed her.

There was no sentience in the portal, no danger at all. From one step to the next I went from the pub to the small foyer on the yacht.

Was that first time dangerous only because I was glamored or was the portal no longer policed? Its settings and alarm system had been keyed to Calista’s awareness, and perhaps Ezra didn’t bother, but I highly doubted it. He had some way of tracking every single visitor to the Copper Hell.

Our trouble-free entry through the portal was at His Highness’s pleasure.

Wait. Where was Sachie?

I looked into the main room, but not seeing her, spun back around to the portal.

She staggered out, looking wan. “Warn a girl next time.”

“About what?” I examined her for injury—just with my naked eye, not my magic—but she appeared unharmed.

“It was like something surged toward me when I stepped through. It pinned me in place and I swear it scanned me down to the marrow of my bones.” She rubbed her arms. “I wasn’t sure it was going to let me go,” she admitted quietly.

“Ezra,” I snarled. “He changed up the security settings.”

Delacroix’s demon magic formed the basis of the security on the portal, but it was keyed to the Prime in charge.

A Prime who’d let me waltz right through.

“Leave it,” Sachie said. “I’d increase security if I were in his shoes too.” She shook herself off.

Anyone not familiar with my friend would only see a bored expression when she left the foyer, but I pegged the entranced glimmer in her eyes for the tables hosting everything from poker to board games to mah-jongg, and the slight quirk of her lips at the outlandish attire of a group cheering on a heated game of dreidel.

My heart swelled. It was either incredibly sweet, if somewhat weird, or very sad that Ezra had included dreidel among the offerings at the Hell. Depending on whether he was doing it out of nostalgia or because he’d never had anyone to play it with him.

Sachie clocked each and every Li’l Hellion—my nickname for the vamp staff—her fingers flexing as she took in the bruiser at the far end of the room guarding the velvet rope that blocked the circular staircase to the next floor where the high rollers played.

Cherry Bomb conducted the same thorough study of the Hell, noting there wasn’t a trace of any of the damage from my last visit. Thankfully, she didn’t bombard me with excited spikes of adrenaline at the danger lurking in every corner.

My little demoness is growing up . That earned me a growl.

The yacht was so smooth that aside from the faint hum of the engines vibrating up through the floor, there was no sense of being in the middle of the ocean. And while the honey-colored lights spread across the ceiling warmed the room, they also made the darkness outside the evenly spaced narrow windows more pronounced. It was impossible to delineate where the night sky ended and the inky waters began, the view through the glass similar to gazing into the vastness of space.

The roulette wheel clacked, chips riffled against the felt, and patrons conversed in dozens of languages, not all of them native to earth.

I sunk into my blue flame synesthete vision to determine exactly what percentage was human, but my magic barely illuminated anyone’s weaknesses. There were either far fewer humans than expected, or some of them were using an expensive and difficult-to-obtain device that shielded them from all magic psychological attacks.

No matter what the clientele wore or how badly some were glamored, as if they were AI-generated mishaps—hello, man with four ears—Sachie and I stood out like sore thumbs, so it didn’t surprise me that within seconds of our appearance, two Li’l Hellions were moving in.

Their stares were flatter than the gunmetal gray of their uniforms or their thin-lipped expressions.

I wasn’t concerned with them, all my attention snagged on a new addition to this floor: a wrought iron balcony set dead center along one of the rippling brushed-steel walls that wrapped around the huge circular room. It was created for kings to preside over their kingdoms. Except this ruler couldn’t even be bothered to spare a glance for the little people.

Yeah, well, looks were deceiving. I’d have bet both kidneys that despite Ezra’s focus on the cards he laid out on a table—and the pair of Li’l Hellions speaking with him, one of whom was consulting a tablet as they spoke—he could describe in precise detail what everyone was doing.

And that Sach and I had arrived.

I tried not to take his lack of so much as a wave personally. Also, for all his bitching about me being on time, why was he just sitting there calmly handling business matters that couldn’t be as important as Silas?

“Touch me again and I’m taking the hand back with me as a souvenir. I have an extensive collection and I love expanding it,” Sachie said with a pleasant and threatening smile. “Cardoso’s expecting us.”

The male vamp who’d grabbed her elbow tapped his earpiece, asking for clarification about our presence.

Sach pointed at his female colleague, specifically the Copper Hell logo of a fat flame bound diagonally by a thin copper band that was embroidered over her heart. “X marks the spot. Handy.”

The vamp bared her fangs.

The one other time I’d been here with Ezra, I had to pretend I was in his debt, cowering in his presence. With this visit, Ezra sniped about our meeting time, still hadn’t deigned to look our way, and now he made us stand here like peons?

“They’re cleared,” the male vamp said. “Informants.”

We’d been upgraded from hapless cops to corrupt Maccabees handing over intel. Sensible, but shitty.

I pushed through the undead duo and stomped toward the cage elevator under Count von Cardoso’s balcony.

The vamps followed.

I stopped clear of the closed bronze gate and raised an impatient eyebrow at the female Hellion. “You first.”

She shared a look with her male colleague, and at his nod, raised her wrist, revealing a small tattoo of the Copper Hell logo, which she pressed against the gate’s handle.

It slid open.

“What would have happened if I touched the handle before you’d done that?” I said, unable to help my curiosity.

“You’d have been portaled directly into the yacht’s propellers. Then we’d invite everyone to watch the fish feed.” She eyed me in disappointment.

Sach, her hands in her pockets, breezed right past her. “Hey, Avi, think we could talk to strata about upping their security protocols?”

I stepped into the car behind my friend. “With Bill heading up council? He’d bitch about the pink mist attracting pigeons.”

“He’s such a killjoy.”

The Hellion slid the gate shut, whereupon the doors silently closed, and the elevator began its ascent.

Sach looked at the inlaid mother-of-pearl design on the ceiling that matched the pattern on the floor. “Fancy.”

“The balcony wasn’t here last time. I guess Calista didn’t feel the need to play Eva Perón.”

Sach snickered. “I’d pay good money to see Cardoso stand up there and belt his woes.”

I winced. “Do you not remember his singing voice? I’ll take the propellers, thanks.”

The elevator chimed that we’d arrived, and I stepped out with a hard exhale.

It wasn’t any quieter up here, but it was slightly warmer, and the air around the balcony was tinged light green, encasing it like a bubble. That detail hadn’t been visible from down below.

“The magic in the cursed watch the House acquired was corrupted,” the male vamp with the tablet said. “Delacroix wants you to let the Iron Hand Mafia know that their forfeit has not been paid and must be settled up at once. With interest.”

Ezra, in his throne-like chair, moved the ten of diamonds to its corresponding jack in his Solitaire game. The top two buttons of his crisp white shirt were undone, exposing a triangle of brown skin, and his suit was as black as his cloud of curls, but his eyes were dulled by fatigue, a muted silvery-blue, the ocean on an overcast day.

“That can wait,” the female vamp said insistently. “Ezra has to rectify the issue with the gin supplier first. She refuses to listen to reason about delivery dates.”

Ezra tapped the remaining deck in his hand against the wood, a muscle ticking in his jaw. The gold edging on one of his onyx cuff links caught the light.

I followed the line of his sleeve up to his biceps.

My ex had tattooed his desire for me on his skin. Was his indifference now some kind of payback for my goodbye fuck? Had he let the tattoo heal, the letters vanishing one by one until there was no trace of that desire at all?

I turned away, too tired and fried to deal with him.

The two vamps began arguing over first rights to Ezra. It would have been funny if I wasn’t massively stressed, worried, and exhausted from saving Maud.

“I’ll handle all of it,” he said brusquely. “Now leave me.”

I put on my game face as the vamps left via the elevator.

Ezra flipped a card over. “You’re late.”

“We’re two minutes early.” I crossed my arms against the urge to run a hand over his jaw, because Ezra had shaved off the close-cropped beard and mustache that had given him a piratical air. “Is Silas okay? Any updates?”

His clean-shaven look should have mitigated his predatory aura, but it drew the eye to his sharp cheekbones, the set of his strong chin, and his lush mouth that did nothing to soften the impression that he was king of every jungle.

“For you, two minutes early is late.” Ezra’s phone beeped and he slid it out of his pocket. “But he’s as okay as he can be. Locked up, which means nulling magic, and that isn’t pleasant even for a vampire, but he’s otherwise unharmed.” Ezra checked the screen. “Perfect. The final piece is in play. We can go.” He played the ten of hearts on his Solitaire game, then ambled toward the double doors off the balcony.

Grumbling, I moved to follow His Majesty, with Sachie close behind, when a ripple in the atmosphere made me pull up short.

Ezra spun around, his arm shooting out to grab the spiky shedim emerging out of thin air by the throat. Blood dripped to the floor, my ex now bleeding from a fat thorny protrusion piercing his palm.

But Ezra just smiled coldly at the demon. “That all you’ve got?”

Spikes blew off the demon with the sound of champagne corks popping, but none of them tore through Ezra’s suit. Instead, they bounced harmlessly to the ground.

I narrowed my eyes at the fabric. Huh.

Ezra leaned in and tsked his attacker. “I told you, Zamoric, you’d have one shot at me, so make it count.”

Zamoric replied in an angry, albeit strangled voice, in some demon language, but he barely got out three words before Ezra tore the top of his skull off, plucked out the shedim’s brain, and crushed it under one heel.

I swallowed. Well. He certainly hadn’t done that when we were dating.

He dropkicked the corpse off the balcony like errant trash, plucked the thorn from his palm, and tossed it over the railing as well.

I grabbed his injured hand, which had ballooned up. “Are you poisoned? Is there an antidote?” I looked around frantically.

He tugged his hand away. “It was just a drop. My healing magic will take care of it in about fifteen minutes.”

How regular an occurrence was shit like this that Ezra took poisoning in stride? Once again, I could have shaken him for putting himself in this position.

“Your suit is armor,” Sach said. She lowered the blade she’d pulled after the shedim appeared. “Is that the new trend or did you see this coming?”

Ezra shrugged. “Never a dull moment at the Copper Hell. But that’s neither here nor there. We need to focus on Silas.”

“That shedim came out of nowhere.” Sachie narrowed her eyes. “You can’t ward this area against unwanted visitors? Don’t you control the security systems?”

Ezra jerked his chin down at the demon’s body, which was being given a wide berth. And not being cleaned up by any Hellion. “Sometimes an example is more instructive than any ward.”

All the better to dissuade future attackers. In strength, sensory perception, and predatory instincts, Ezra was top of the heap. But he couldn’t stay there forever.

I understood why he couldn’t show weakness; that didn’t mean I had to like it.

Sachie sat down on the throne chair. “Actually, I think I like the view from here. You two go ahead and I’ll hold down the fort.” She frowned. “Hold down the gambling megayacht? What’s the right expression for that?”

Ezra cocked his head like he didn’t understand. “You don’t need to do that. It’s fully automated to run even if I’m not physically present.”

She heaved a sigh. “I’m making sure that you don’t have an unpleasant surprise when you return, probably exhausted from freeing our friend. Silas would be heartbroken if you got assassinated right away.” She took out a knife and casually began to sharpen it on a whetstone she’d pulled from somewhere. “Besides, I’ll have a grand old time greeting them.”

“Say thank you to the woman with the bloodlust,” I said, “and let’s go.”

Sach’s offer was genuine, and it was best to not walk into any trouble when we returned, but it was also a smart move on her part to take advantage of this situation to further our own agenda here at the Hell.

There was a little divot between Ezra’s brows when he thanked her, then he opened a portal and stepped through.

“Stay sharp,” Sachie said.

“Stay safe,” I replied, and followed Ezra.

The portal exited into a minuscule storage closet lined with boxes of booze. I strode out the already opened door, finding myself in the tiniest bar I’d ever seen, with barely enough room for a single counter and six bar stools.

The bartender didn’t pay me any attention beyond a bored glance and a step sideways to let me pass, but I froze because the sole customer wasn’t there for drinks and the cozy atmosphere.

Director Yuto Abe, head of Maccabee Tokyo HQ, had come to greet us.