Chapter 7

I was texting Happy Hanukkah to Ezra’s cousin, Orly, when someone jabbed me in the small of my back, almost causing me to spill my—third? fourth?—glass of prosecco. I looked up at the culprit, expecting a drunken smile and apology.

Instead, I found myself on the receiving end of two glaring brownish-gold eyes and a ferocious scowl.

“You invited him here?” Darsh poked me in the chest.

I rubbed my boob. “Sach!”

My bestie grinned tipsily at me from behind the vamp. “It’s a party. I shared the good news.” She held up her highball glass. “L’chaim!”

Orly returned my holiday greetings, adding that she’d binged the crime drama I recommended. She texted a recommendation for a new show to watch next.

We’d met on the murdered infernals case that brought Ezra back into my life. I’d mistaken her for his romantic partner, but though she was the person he loved most in the world, she was a sister to him. She was also a wealthy, gorgeous, multilingual economist. It would have been easy to hate her, but Orly was funny, kind, and a pure joy to spend time with. Sach, Darsh, and I were happily getting to know her better.

“Well?” Darsh huffed. “Silas?”

I shoved my glass at him to hold while I put my phone back in my clutch. Then I tucked the purse under my arm and took my drink back. “I thought you didn’t care if you ever saw him again.”

“He made me text him.”

I faked a gasp, my hand flying to my mouth. “That monster.”

“I don’t like texting. Or phone calls.” No, Darsh preferred in-person communication where he could read body language and more fully assess for threats. Not that texting Silas back was a threat.

It was a tactical maneuver.

I’d really hoped that once the investigation that had brought Silas into our lives had wrapped up, that he and Darsh would go their separate ways. Darsh was a hell of a mensch, but the guy was also a hit-and-run repeat offender and Silas wasn’t built like that.

“You could have used your words and said no,” Sachie pointed out.

“Silas is so…” Darsh grimaced. “Upbeat and relentlessly personable. Ignoring him or just not engaging at the same level felt like kicking a puppy.”

“What’s your point?” I sipped my prosecco to tamp down any frustration. Silas was a grown-up—and the size of a mountain range, but he was so sweet. While we’d met only a couple of months ago, he triggered my protective instincts, even against one of my best friends.

“My point?” Darsh swiveled from side to side as if seeking affirmation from bystanders that I was clearly an idiot.

Sachie shrugged.

Darsh narrowed his eyes. “My point is that I engaged in certain behaviors?—”

“Texting,” Sach said. “Mild flirting. Not even sexting yet. We’d know, since you do love to dish.”

“ Certain behaviors ,” Darsh continued through clenched teeth, “believing we’d eventually meet up somewhere neutral for a one-time encounter and get any attraction out of our systems before I would return?—”

“Flee,” Sachie said in a cough.

I nudged her with a “quit provoking him” glower.

A red haze descended over Darsh’s eyes for a second before he wrangled himself back into control. “I would return to my own territory many, many miles away from his.”

Where he’d ghost Silas.

I sucked back more booze. Ever since Darsh had told me about losing his brother, and the visible grief I witnessed him still battling decades later, his insane inability to engage further with any romantic potentials once the deed was done made sense.

Romantic feelings obviously weren’t the same as fraternal love, but they still involved being vulnerable.

Darsh could happily pursue a guy for weeks, but any intimacy after the physical act made his walls slam into place and cartoon puffs of smoke trail in his wake as he bolted. His heartbreak had never fully healed, preventing him from using that muscle anymore.

Especially since he didn’t need it to breathe. One side of my mouth kicked up.

He jabbed his finger at me. “You’ve screwed everything up by inviting Silas onto my home turf and turning all the fine groundwork I laid into a hangman’s noose.”

“A bit dramatic, don’t you think?” I placed my empty glass on a high bistro table. “Silas is our friend, not one of your disposable boy toys. Act responsibly.”

“Avi’s right.” Sachie nodded. “No sneaking out and blocking his number. Silas deserves better. Or don’t sleep with him at all.”

“Yes.” I pointed at Sach. “That last bit.”

“I don’t sneak,” Darsh said haughtily. “I leave them better than I found them.”

I snorted.

Sach pressed a hand to her heart. “Parting is such sweet sorrow,” she proclaimed theatrically.

I screwed up my face. “Is it though?”

“But now this Silas situation will be messy and dramatic.” Darsh flung his hair off his shoulders. “I hate that.”

“You live for drama,” I countered.

“Not when it’s mine,” he hissed. He spun sharply on his heel and stalked off.

Darsh was one hundred and fifty percent there for Sachie and me, but our friendship had never required him making himself vulnerable. In fact, he’d always been quite tight-lipped with personal details. (Except sexual conquests. Those didn’t count. Enough said.)

Until he told us about Patrin. That had been a huge step, but Sach and I had built up trust with Darsh over a couple of years and no one else, not even Silas, held a spot in that delicate inner circle.

Sach propped her elbow on my shoulder, an irritating habit of my taller bestie. “Darsh likes Silas.”

I shrugged off her arm. “Are you that surprised? Silas impressed the honky-tonk out of Darsh when we worked that infernal case together.”

“Yeah,” Sachie admitted, “but it’s more than that. They’re texting! That’s huge for Darsh.”

“It’s going to be so messy.” I sighed.

“We’ll help the big idiot through it,” Sach said.

“Which one? Darsh, or Silas for engaging when he should clearly know better?”

“Yes.” Sach saluted me with her glass and headed off in the same direction as Darsh.

I snagged another flute of prosecco from a passing server’s tray, but stilled with it halfway to my mouth, holding out my hand against the rush of nausea that slapped me upside the face. Sweat beaded my temples as I lurched to the closest bar and poured myself a glass of water.

I was the worst about remembering to hydrate. Sadly, two glasses later, my symptoms had only grown worse. I was burning up from inside and had to squint because everything was too bright. Too saturated.

Things looked exactly as they did when I entered Babel, the vampire megacity. I tapped my heel against the polished floor to assure myself that I hadn’t somehow transported to another realm, but that wasn’t it. I gripped the bar top, attempting to burn the booze out of my system. While this was one of my shedim abilities, sometimes I liked being tipsy and enjoying the same energy as everyone else. This, however, was a little too much. I concentrated on removing the buzz like I normally did.

To my abject horror and embarrassment, it didn’t work.

Blotting my forehead, I made my way toward the corridor with the restrooms. Maybe some cold water on my face would fix this.

Excitement from Cherry spiked through me so hard that I swayed.

“Jesus, Fleischer,” Gemma said with a sneer. This was one of the few times the operative was just standing there like a normal person, elegant in a cream sheath dress and pearls, instead of exercising or stretching. “Pace yourself.”

I opened my mouth to give her a snarky retort when the next spike of excitement made me slam my hand against the wall for balance.

“What are you, mommy’s little rager? Get a grip.” Gemma rolled her eyes and walked away. All compassion, that one.

Still, I was relieved she was gone, because Cherry Bomb got this enthusiastic only in the presence of grave danger, usually shedim-based. Had a demon targeted a room full of Maccabees? Was there a glamored staff member?

Had Delacroix come back for me?

I tottered down the hallway toward the bathroom door. Good thing it was in the direction that Cherry pressed me to go, because I was pulled down the corridor to the restrooms as if by a giant hook.

I slid into my blue synesthete vision, my queasiness worsening at being in my regular sight and my Eishei Kodesh one at the same time. Despite my vow to the contrary, I couldn’t stop myself from illuminating weaknesses in every Maccabee I passed. I issued silent apologies for violating their privacy, but I couldn’t seize control of my magic. Though after I spied a navy swath in one operative’s testicles, I dropped my eyes to the carpet.

This was another reason I didn’t illuminate my colleagues. I didn’t want to know that they had a medical issue requiring attention, because there was nothing I could do about it. People did not appreciate me walking up to them and saying “Get a mammogram,” no matter how much I tried to ease into the message. Ask me how I knew.

There was another door right before the restrooms, and I entered the smaller room before I fully processed what I was doing, blinking at the woman in the bright red coat with her back to me.

Thanks to my synesthete vision and shedim magic, the shifting blue shadows swimming in the back of her head in her hindbrain (the primal part responsible for survival, drive, and instinct) were clear as day. They marked her as a fellow half demon.

This was it. This was what Sire’s Spark had been leading me toward. I sucked in a breath, the magic pull that had drawn me here now stilled.

The woman turned around.

“Maud?” I rubbed my eyes. My synesthete vision subsided, but my nausea got so bad, I pressed a hand over my mouth, swallowing hard on the taste of bile. “Why aren’t you in Hong Kong?”

After Maud Liu, professional poker player and all-around champion in snark, was arrested for kidnapping Calista and going after Delacroix, the two of us came up with a story about how another vamp had compelled her. It had taken some time, but Maud had been cleared and allowed to leave Vancouver a few weeks ago for home.

I had yet to admit we were related, but I was positive that she suspected. We hadn’t kept in touch since I’d snuck out to the airport to say goodbye to her, even though I’d intended to reach out, and I was glad, if confused to see her now.

“I was just coming to find you.” Her English had a British lilt common to some Hong Kongers I’d met in Vancouver, but her voice was unusually strained. Normally, she was a glamorous woman, but she wore leggings, and even her natural afro looked deflated. “Who did you tell about me being a half shedim?” she hissed, her eyes wild.

At the words “half shedim” my body vibrated like a tuning fork, and the blue of my synesthete vision flared so brightly it blinded me for a second.

“N-no one.” I curled my fingernails into my palms. Oh, shit. Sire’s Spark. What a way to confirm that its magic sussed out other half demons.

“Well, someone knows.” She pulled her phone out of her pocket and waved it at me. “I’m being blackmailed.”

Because being a half shedim was the ultimate dirty laundry.

I pressed my hands against my cheeks. I was burning up. “Show me the correspondence.”

It took every ounce of concentration to force my synesthete vision away and read the texts from the blocked number, because the walls were closing in.

“What’s wrong with you?” Maud said. “You’re sweating like crazy! Are you drunk?”

“Stomach flu,” I mumbled. I pulled at the V-neck of my dress to get air into my lungs. “You’ve never told anyone else what you are?”

Her scathing look should have incinerated me. “What do you think? You’re the only living human who knows.”

True, and that was because I’d seen her shedim form, not because I’d detected anything amiss. This, right here, was Sire’s Spark’s doing.

Blood calls to blood . Mine must have activated the magic in Sire’s Spark, which infused into me and made me an infernal detector with my blood seeking out hers.

I shivered and wiped my brow again. “Delacroix knows, but he wouldn’t bother with blackmail. Not for cash anyway. How much do they want?”

“Ten thousand dollars.”

“That’s a weird amount.” I wobbled over to a stack of chairs and pulled one free, crashing onto it with zero grace. “Do you have that kind of cash?”

“It’s only ten grand.” She paused. “Canadian.”

“Simmer down. Our cash may look like Monopoly money, but ten k isn’t exactly chump change for most people.” I frowned. “Though it is low for blackmail.”

“Who cares about the amount?” She shook my shoulders. “Sober up already and help me!”

The world swung in a nauseating blur.

I knocked her arms off me. “Why does everyone think I’m drunk?”

I simply activated a powerful magic crystal with my blood. Now, I’m some spawn detector, the sister I always wanted makes me feel like puking, and knowing Gemma, she’s gleefully dishing about what a sloppy drunk I am.

I’m not sure which part of that horrified me most.

Bing! Bing! We’ve definitely got a winner for most disturbing aspect, Fleischer. Remember that first bit where you used your blood on a supernatural artifact, blithely confident that you wouldn’t end up the same cautionary tale as every single other idiot in myth and legend?

Yeah, well, I figured I’d feel the crystal power up when I did that. That it would be the means of detection, not that it would turn me into a tool. However, I’d used my blood on Sire’s Spark and detected Maud. Anyone in possession of the crystal wouldn’t need actual half shedim to find more of us, just our blood. Say to fuel a dark magic ritual to achieve vamp invincibility?

I bolted up, barely even gagging. Ooh, look at that, I’d acclimatized to the nausea. “This isn’t about cash. Your blackmailer has another agenda.”

Maud slapped her forehead, her eyes comically wide. “NO. WAY.” She snapped her fingers in front of my face. “Could you bring smart Aviva back, please? Because I just spent nine hours on a plane to consult with her before the handover and?—”

“First.” I shot her the finger. “And second, why is the handover here when you live in Hong Kong?”

“The texts started before I left. They may not have realized I’d gone back home.”

“Who besides the Maccabees knew you were here in Vancouver?” I said.

“Some other poker players.”

“You entered a tournament while you were under investigation?!”

“Of course not,” she said with a toss of her hair. “I played some friendly games against local high rollers.” She sneered those last two words.

“Sorry they didn’t meet your standards,” I fired back. “You should have been keeping a low profile.”

“It was a very stressful time.” Maud straightened her collar with a sharp tug. “Poker is how I stay calm.”

“Exactly. It was stressful. What if the tiniest hint of your shedim nature was revealed?”

“Don’t insult me. I’ve built my career projecting nothing other than a blank mask.” Her tone was waspish, but she plucked nervously at the sleeve of her coat.

Great. “You should know the worst-case scenario,” I said. “I had a case a while back where half shedim were murdered in a ritual killing. Your blackmailer wants your blood and they’ll do anything to get it.”

Maud swayed slightly, a greenish cast to her cheeks. “Let’s avoid that, shall we?”

“When is the meet?”

“It was supposed to be tomorrow night, but they’ve moved it up. It’s in ninety minutes.”

“Wow, working with you is never easy, is it?” I blotted the back of my neck. “Any other impossible tasks you need me to do besides catching your blackmailer in record time? Perhaps I could catch a falling star and put it in my pocket?”

A fractious response was already brewing on Maud’s lips, I could tell, but we didn’t have time to snipe at each other in the bathroom.

“I’m sorry. Rough night on my part.” I took a deep breath, relieved that my skin no longer felt like the inside of Satan’s ass crack. “We’ll catch your blackmailer, but I need to tell Sachie and Darsh.”

I’d been trying to curb my impulses to tackle everything on my own. I’d told Sachie when I started searching for the missing half shedim blood and later fessed up to Darsh about my search as well. It would be smart to loop them in now. Besides, the more sympathetic they were to the plight of half shedim, the easier it’d be to break my news to them.

“Forget it.” Maud grimaced. “I was just cleared of any wrongdoing. The last thing I need is other Maccabees finding out I’m an infernal and reopening my case.”

“What do you think happens when I catch this perp?” I said. “If they’re human, I arrest them. That requires you pressing charges.”

“Can’t you just make them go away?” She swept her hand through the air.

“No,” I said, fixing her with a steely glare. “Because I’m not a hitman.”

Of course not , Cherry agreed. Which is why we’ll only rough the bastard up a bit.

I took it under advisement.