Chapter 18

Cherry raised her head and I let my shedim magic dance under my skin, clocking all the hidey holes in the room with weapons.

Cherry wasn’t visible, but it was as if Silas sensed something dangerous about me because he blinked and raised his hands. “No, I didn’t mean… I wouldn’t ever deliberately hurt you.”

“Obviously, since you wouldn’t even hurt the people who’d imprisoned you. You’re one of the kindest people I’ve met.”

He rubbed a hand across his jaw. “I have to work at it.”

“You and me both.”

“It’s not the same. You don’t live to be an almost two-hundred-year-old vampire without some serious stains on your soul.” He tapped his head. “There’s a lot of dark shit in here. You don’t want to be giving me leave to root around in your head, in case it gets too tempting to leave you different from how I found you.” He gave me a wry smile. “Darsh might be a better bet. None of us are saints, but he’s a little more honest with what he is.”

“Darsh isn’t knee-deep in this, and I’d like to keep it that way.”

“Sorry, Avi.” Silas placed both his hands on his thighs like he was about to stand up. “I’m not comfortable with this.”

Ironically, the more he warned me off trusting him, the more I did. However, I’d respect his boundaries. “It’s okay,” I said, motioning for him to stay put. “I’m sorry for asking and putting you in that position. It was a long shot anyway.”

“But one you felt was important enough to attempt this.” Silas pursed his lips, his eyes narrowed. “There’s got to be a way.”

“I can’t go to an Eishei Kodesh hypnotherapist because the Authority has eyes on me until I wrap up this case,” I said, frustration lacing my voice.

“Mm. I imagine they’d interpret you talking to any shrink, especially while you’re on an active investigation, as a sign of weakness. A nice old one-way ticket to mental health leave.”

“Given the interrogation I just had with them, ‘on leave’ would be the best-case scenario.”

Silas scratched his fingers through the dark reddish stubble along his jaw. Vampires couldn’t grow their hair, but stubble was somehow a go. So weird. “There’s always Ezra.”

My pulse spiked. “He’s a Prime vampire but he’s too young to have any sway over my head or emotions. Isn’t he?”

“He is,” Silas said gently. “But if you were blood bonded, you could give him access to your memory to walk through it with an objective eye at a deep and clear level.”

I laughed, my mirth ending in an abrupt snort. “Feeding off Ezra to heal was intense enough. I’m not bonding myself to him. Nuh-uh. No way. Nope.”

Silas raised an eyebrow. “Me thinks the woman doth protest too much.”

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, trying to shake off the unsettling idea that he’d planted in my mind. Blood bonding with a vampire was a serious commitment, one that went far beyond just sharing memories. The ritual was an intimate connection that would join us on a primal, ancient level together forever. Our magic would strengthen each other when close, but weaken us when apart. Ezra was a Prime while I was primarily human with limited shedim magic. It would never be an equal dynamic.

The idea of being blood bonded to Ezra, of giving him even more power over me, was terrifying. But at the same time, there was a part of me that couldn’t deny that lure, no matter how dangerous it was.

And if Silas was right, it could get me much-needed answers.

Taking a deep breath, I met Silas’s piercing gaze head-on. “I’m sure,” I said firmly, trying to convince myself as much as him. “I’ll find another way to deal with this without sacrificing my autonomy.”

“Then I’ve got one last suggestion. It won’t unlock any details that aren’t already at the forefront of your consciousness, but maybe it’ll remind you of something you noticed that night and simply forgot. I can guide you, ask questions you might not think to ask yourself, with the help of this.” He dug into his pocket and pulled out a pipe.

I looked at the pipe and back at Silas, lost. “You want me to vape?”

“Cannabis. Not that gross-flavored smoke shit. I use it to relax and focus, but if you’ve never done it or it affects you adversely, then don’t take it.” He grinned at my surprised expression. “You didn’t peg me for the type, did you?”

“Not even a little bit, and that’s what I get for making assumptions.” I plucked the pipe from his fingers, examining its sleek design. “I enjoy smoking up occasionally, but I’ve only done it socially, never to accomplish something.”

I was fifteen the first time I smoked weed. Sach and I had plans to try it at a party we’d been invited to, but I had to test its effects on Cherry by myself before I smoked it in public with my friend. Luckily, it chilled the Baroness right out. Cherry hummed contentedly while I sprawled on my bed in a patch of sunlight, bobbing my head to a Beastie Boys’ album, and feeling any tension in my chest unwind with each breath.

I handed Silas back the pipe, unsure of which buttons to press. “Light us up, Jeeves,” I said in my snootiest British accent.

Once the vape was at temperature, I took a deep drag, savoring the sweet taste on my lips. The smoke curled upward, dancing in glow of the floor lamp before disappearing into the air. No sense of impending doom or anxiety gnawed at me. It was just me, Silas, and the soft haze of weed hanging in the air.

“Ready?” Silas lay on my sofa, his feet hanging over the edge.

“Ready.” I draped myself sideways over my chair, getting comfortable, and closed my eyes.

Silas took me through the snowshoe trek in the forest that night, guiding me through to when I first saw the barn.

“The snow fell off the tree with a whispery sound,” I said. “The pine needle branches quivered for a moment and even the snow wanted to get somewhere warmer.”

“If you take a deep breath, what do you smell back in the forest?”

I inhaled. “Lemon.”

There was a rustle of clothing and the sound of my fridge opening. A moment later Silas pressed something cool into my hands. “Sniff it. Let the scent connect you to the memory.”

I pressed the lemon to my nose, letting Silas take me step by step through that night, and falling into an almost trancelike state. I relived every sensory memory, but with enough awareness for one very important edit.

I made no mention of Cherry, sticking with the story I’d given Michael about my gloves keeping me from making physical contact with any of the afflicted or the shedim herself.

Thirty years of practice keeping my secret intact under any situation sure came in handy now.

Silas kept his voice gentle and nonjudgmental, giving me space when I hesitated, until finally, I had the key to Bratwurst Demon’s cage in my hand.

“She contorted her body and slipped free before I could unlock it.”

“Then she was never truly imprisoned,” Silas said. “You think the Eishei Kodesh were aware of that?”

Every inch of that cage was clear as day in my mind. “I’d say no, because the bars were made of iron, not steel. They were intended to weaken her and help prevent any escape. And the door had a lock on it. A heavy one.” I drummed my fingers on the top of the chair. “That was the thing she was most dismissive of.”

“How so?”

I carefully cast my mind back to get her wording correct because I’d had so much doubt thrown on what I’d heard that it was imperative I remember it correctly. “She said, ‘Stupid humans thought this would hold me.’ She was referring to the lock, not the iron bars.”

“Was there anything unusual about the lock?” Silas said.

My frown deepened. Other than the shedim squeezed it into a twisted lump like it was Silly Putty? “I didn’t think to check it. Why?”

“It could have been warded.”

“If that’s the case?” I sat up and opened my eyes, rubbing my spine from where the armrest had been digging into it. This was a solid lead. “It’ll be with the rest of the evidence in lockup, so I can use it to find the Eishei Kodesh who bespelled it. See if that gets us anywhere.”

While I pursued that, Silas would plumb the depths of the dark web for anyone advertising the service of matching shedim eager to do evil, with humans eager for the same.

“Can I ask you a question?” I said.

“Shoot.”

“After all that went down…” I plucked at a loose thread on my sofa cushion. “Do you even want to be a Maccabee anymore?”

Silas reached for his shoes and slid one on. “I don’t know. I devoted the past fifty years of my life to them, and they threw me under the bus like none of that service mattered. Like I didn’t matter.”

Silas, Sachie, me, all of us were struggling with our relationship to the Maccabees. This case had hammered home like nothing else that my organization dealt in absolutes. That we were all expendable in the face of its grand mission.

So why was I enduring brutal training and giving two hundred percent to every assignment? Why was I so stuck on the idea that being the perfect Maccabee was my only hope of acceptance?

Silas tied up his laces. “I could have joined one of the vamp Mafias. Hell, my life would have been easier, but I didn’t want that path because…” He double knotted the lace.

The mesh net portal to the Copper Hell opened and Silas stood up and hugged me. “I’ve got your back.” He adopted a casual pose that was painful in its awkwardness. “Hey, does Darsh have any hobbies?”

Well, he worked hard and played hard. Both were full-time pursuits that left no room for hobbies. Now would be the perfect opportunity to gently steer Silas away from Darsh, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

Silas wasn’t stupid. He knew what Darsh was like, and if he wanted to pursue him, then it wasn’t my place to shit on that.

Darsh’s heart was damaged, true, but if he could get past that, he’d be an amazing partner for someone. Especially someone steady and kind like Silas who’d ground him.

I just wasn’t sure Darsh could get past it.

I shrugged lightly. “No hobbies that I know of.”

Ezra clapped Silas’s shoulder as his friend passed by him in the portal, then yawned. The worn-out T-shirt he’d changed into clung to his muscular frame, emphasizing the contours of his chest and arms. As he ran a hand through his messy hair, a faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips, revealing a hint of that famous Cardoso charm. “I’d ask what new developments you two found, but I’m not sure my heart could take it.”

I wasn’t sure my heart could take the pang of nostalgia as I took in the sight of this man I’d once loved, looking tired and deliciously rumpled. “Do you want to hang out?”

Ezra flared his nostrils. “Because you’re high and horny? Pass.”

I clasped my hands behind my back so I didn’t press my palms to my flushed cheeks, and instantly burned all the THC out of my system with my shedim magic. “That’s not it at all,” I lied, shame spearing my chest at how I’d have so easily used him given half a chance. “I want to speak to you.”

He motioned at my living room. “Ask nicely.”

I opened my mouth, working silent words through a thick throat.

“I don’t know why I bother,” he muttered and turned away.

The portal began to close.

Memories flooded back to me: stolen kisses in the darkness, whispered endearments, but also so much laughter and endless conversations about both the weight of the world and the most trivial of topics. I’d missed all of it.

“Come in, Ezra.” I paused, but the portal continued to shrink. “Please.”

It stopped, no larger across than a basketball, and hung there not reversing course. I bowed my head, feeling I’d grasped for something important just a moment too late.

The portal vibrated, then opened back up.

As Ezra crossed its threshold into my apartment, a shiver ran down my spine. The decision had been made. I’d invited him in, knowing full well the danger that lay ahead.

His musky cologne wrapped around me, his presence suffusing my condo with a weight that threatened to shake the concrete foundation.

Adrenaline raced through my veins. Too bad I couldn’t tell if it was because I’d made the best decision or the worst one.

Ezra didn’t move, looking around him as if he stood on a tiny safe island in a sea of lava.

I was the host. I should put my guest at ease. “Any more naked butts?”

He snorted, the tension leaving his body. “Thankfully, no.”

“Don’t feel the need to share should it happen again.”

He struck a theatrical pose, one hand to his forehead. “I’m a delicate flower, Aviva. I can’t process that trauma on my own.”

“You’re something all right.”

He winked at me and took a seat at the dining room table, though he folded his hands on top like he was in a legal deposition. “What did you want to discuss?”

“Maud Liu was being blackmailed.”

“Why?”

I sat down across from him, my hands also folded. “For being an infernal.”

Ezra huffed a wry laugh. “Your other plans last night. Suddenly, it all makes sense. Tell me, did you include that she’s a half shedim in your report or is it another secret you’re keeping?”

“It doesn’t matter whether Maud actually is one, only that she’s accused of it.” I wasn’t fooling him.

“Why is this my concern? Unless you think I’m responsible?” He had a deadly glint in his eyes. Had anyone else looked at me that way, I’d already have bolted, leaving nothing but dust in my wake like a cartoon character.

But Ezra didn’t look that way because he intended to hurt me.

“Don’t be absurd,” I said. “I think the blackmailer did it to get your dad’s attention.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Capturing an infernal would hardly get my father’s attention.”

There was no love lost between Ezra and his father, just a business transaction where both maintained the fiction that Ezra was still the Crimson Prince. However, he didn’t have to dismiss my theory out of hand.

“Why not?” I said. “A half shedim could be useful to a vamp mobster.”

“What would an infernal do for him that a full shedim couldn’t? Natán is the rare vampire unafraid to partner with demons.” Like father like son. “Plus, he can buy off any Eishei Kodesh or Trad he wants to. Top government officials, leading thinkers, it doesn’t matter, my father can bribe or blackmail them. An infernal in and of themself has no currency to him.”

“Their blood does.” I explained how I’d discounted any Maccabee as Roman Whittaker’s killer, talking Ezra through Maud’s blackmailer having been turned, Zaven’s insistence on taking credit for the plan, and his obsession with the soccer team Natán owned. How he’d told his son they’d go to a game soon and get to meet all the players.

Ezra’s expression became more and more incredulous. “How high are you?”

“Perfectly sober,” I said through clenched teeth. “Natán could have murdered Roman in that Maccabee cell, and if he’s after vamp invincibility, he has a motive for killing infernals.”

Ezra scraped at some dried melted wax on the menorah in the center of the table. “Trust me, I’d be first in line to find my father guilty, but I’ve looked and looked and found nothing to substantiate that claim for him. Or for any of the Mafia heads. Lots of run-of-the-mill power plays, but that’s it.”

“Zaven believed this enough to blackmail Maud and get proof of her changing on camera. It bears looking into your dad one more time.”

“All right, Aviva.” Ezra stood up, the portal opening by the sofa. “I’ll see what I can find.”

I followed him. “I want to remain involved until I determine that Maud is safe.”

“She is,” he said. “You killed Zaven before he had time to contact Natán.”

I made a face at Ezra because I hadn’t mentioned killing Maud’s blackmailer.

He smirked. “I know you. You protect the people you care about.”

Just like you do . “Then you understand why I want to be part of the investigation until I’m satisfied your father is off the hook for the missing infernal blood.”

“You don’t want to meet him.” Ezra headed for the portal. “Trust me.”

“That was true until now, but with my training and my blue flame magic, I could illuminate his weaknesses when you question him, interpret that data and extrapolate whether he’s lying or not.”

Ezra spun around with the swiftness of a cobra about to strike. “You want to do this in Babel?! No fucking way.”

“I would be glamored?—”

“Cherry isn’t a glamor. She’s a bull’s-eye.”

“Not as Cherry. As someone else. A vamp or?—”

A muscle ticked in his jaw. “You aren’t getting near my father, because you’d end up handing him information he could use against you later.”

“I’m not a total rookie,” I shot back. “Why do you persist in acting like I am?”

“Because even with all my experience spying and acting a role,” he roared, “I’m terrified of slipping up and doing the exact same thing.”

I shook my head, my brow wrinkled. “Giving your dad something to use against me?”

Ezra’s expression tightened in pain before it smoothed out to a cold, inscrutable mask. “Not my father, Aviva. Yours.”