Chapter 16

Chapter16

Darsh’s frown grew deeper and deeper the more he surveyed the room. “Okay. We need to debrief then consult with Michael about how she wants this place secured.”

“How are you even here?” Sachie shuddered. “Like, yeah, agree, but let’s not debrief in this room.”

“Absolutely not,” Darsh said. “And we’re here because we’re your super smart, super stealthy vampire teammates.” At her blank stare he added, “You sent us the location, puiul meu. Can you help Aviva?”

This last was to Ezra, while Darsh placed an arm on Sachie’s shoulder, turning her gently toward the door.

“Yes,” Ezra said. “The rest of the house is clear. No sign that Calista was ever here.”

Darsh nodded and escorted Sachie out of the bedroom.

“Let me take him.” Ezra stared down at me, worry clouding his eyes, but when he tried to pry my hands off Quentin, I jerked away. “Aviva, please. You can’t do anything else for him.”

Sachie’s footsteps changed from a heavy tread down the stairs to a clomp in a distant part of the house.

“I know. I just…” I carefully lowered Quentin’s corpse to the carpet, pulling the dirk out of his foot so I could lay him down.

He remained corporeal.

I sighed and closed his lids.

A door downstairs opened and closed. Sachie and Darsh had left the house.

“Was Calista involved in whatever this was?” Ezra’s voice was exceedingly neutral.

“Oh yes.” I stood up and pressed my palms against my eyes. “Vampires and demons, the humanitarians of the supernatural world.”

“You’re half-demon,” he said quietly.

I snapped my eyes open. “Is that your way of pointing out that I hurt Quentin as well? Thanks, I was there.”

Cherry huffed, annoyed at my boring human guilt.

“No. I—” Ezra raked a hand roughly through his curls. “I meant that you were trying to help. As are Darsh and I.” He’d lost his suit jacket somewhere and his eyes looked tired.

I touched Quentin’s shoulder. “It’s hard to see this as doing good.”

“He’s out of his misery,” Ezra said. “Take comfort in that.”

“It’s not enough.” I rubbed the back of my neck.

Ezra held out his arms.

I hesitated.

“Thirty-second hug,” he said. “You can pretend I’m anyone. You look like you need it.”

I let myself be folded in his gentle embrace, laying my cheek against his chest, feeling the familiar heat of his body against mine and his arms sheltering me from the world. But as his hug tightened and he rested his chin on my head, murmuring that he was here if I needed him and that I’d get through this, I braced myself against the relief that surged through me.

It made me want to pull the awl out of Quentin and stab Ezra with it. Okay, not in the heart, seeing as I didn’t want to paralyze him, but his biceps were a viable target. Maybe a calf?

Heart is best, Cherry encouraged.

Yes, this was an extreme and unusual reaction to a person caring about me, but I didn’t want my ex’s feelings for me to be complicated, and I definitely didn’t want to feel that way back.

Why wouldn’t he just let me hate him? I had done it brilliantly for the past six years. I’d earned gold, not as a medal, but as hot molten threads gluing my pieces back together into a new, beautiful, stronger me.

Hate was easy, but this new dynamic was sending hair-thin cracks through my walls. Sure, we kept hurting each other, but I hadn’t exactly let go of him yet. What was I doing? How many times could I be re-fused before, like Quentin, I could no longer recognize myself?

Ezra couldn’t be my safe harbor—the one who made the bad stuff fade away. He couldn’t be my sanctuary because there would come a time when he wasn’t. It’s who we were.

We’re a lot more than that.

I banished the unwanted thought and stepped away.

My phone pinged. Looking forward to tonight. I sighed at Olivier’s message, debating whether I should bail, but he had that file on Sire’s Spark.

“Problem?” Ezra said, his brow furrowed. “Anything I can help with?”

I glanced down at the screen, which now bore my bloody fingerprints. “Nope.” I typed Same back to Olivier. “I’m seeing my contact about that artifact.”

“You want me to come?”

Sure. We’ll all grab a beer. I almost laughed. “No. I’ll handle it and fill you in.”

I forced one last look at Quentin’s feet to burn the memory of what we’d done into my brain, then walked out of the room to clean my hands, if not my conscience.

I found Sachie and Darsh afterward on the deck outside the living room. It was only early evening, but it was already dark, and I bundled deeper into my gross, dirty jacket against the chill blowing off the water. Being cold and breathing fresh air beat staying inside that horror show.

Sach rested against Darsh on a sofa, her eyes closed, and her hands pressed between her thighs. She’d washed the blood off but that hadn’t eased the tension in her slender frame at all.

“We should have worn all black like Darsh to hide the stains,” I joked weakly, sitting down in a chair on the other side of the vamp. Luckily, I had an excellent dry cleaner who’d turned her Yellow Flame expertise into cleansing stains and who no longer asked questions, because I liked this suit.

“I don’t know,” he mugged. “I think it really jazzes up your look.” He gentled his expression. “You two up to walking us through this?”

Ezra braced his hip against the deck railing.

Sachie and I kept the recap brief and dry.

“Quentin must have lost a forfeit,” I said. “He admitted to attacking Calista.”

“This wasn’t invisibility.” Sachie opened her eyes but didn’t move her head from Darsh’s shoulder. “It was like he was doomed to live in the cracks of reality.” She paused. “Joke was on Calista. She did such a good job that she didn’t sense him coming.”

“Quentin’s anger was at her, not Delacroix, even though it had to be demon magic that made him that way,” I said, “but you’re right. This wasn’t simple invisibility. When we were at the Copper Hell, Delacroix threatened to make it so Ezra and I didn’t exist.” I shivered. “I didn’t realize the literal horror of that threat.” I drew my legs into my chest and wrapped my arms around them. “But the terms of this forfeit work with Quentin’s obsession of whether or not he was alive. All those cuts and burns on his body were attempts to verify his existence.”

“What’s odd is that we couldn’t remember him when we tried to look at him.” Sachie frowned. “Was that something Calista added on to his lost wager?”

“No, it was a side effect of standing at ground zero of the demon magic,” Ezra said. “Primes could compel you directly to forget him, but we couldn’t place that as a general condition on someone, if that makes sense. The compulsion is directed at the person who has to forget, not at the one to be forgotten.”

“I bet Quentin’s condition wasn’t some personal payback,” I said, “because Delacroix would have pointed us to him.”

“Or taken care of Baker himself,” Ezra said.

I picked up a leaf that had fallen onto the seat next to me and systematically shredded it. “This was just another forfeit to the shedim. Motherfucker instigates so many of them that he doesn’t keep track.”

“The patrons believe Calista is responsible for them,” Sachie said.

Darsh frowned. “If Quentin lost, why ban him as well? Did he get violent? It feels like overkill. You said he called someone a liar. Do you think it was Calista?”

Sach gazed off into the distance. “No, it was whomever told Quentin that if Calista was dead, he’d be normal again. That’s how he was enticed to work with them.”

“Yeah, because her death would never have restored Quentin, or any patron suffering from a lost wager, back to normal,” Darsh said. “I’m not certain killing Delacroix would do it either.”

“I volunteer to try and find out,” I said brightly.

“Hey, pushy,” Ezra said. “Get in line.”

I was amazed he’d openly joke about it.

“Quentin was lied to, but that lie was the only thing that would keep his focus long enough to stake Calista, because his mind was broken,” I said.

“Let’s go through what we’ve got,” Darsh said. “Baker believed he killed Calista, but he was deceived. Did whoever fed him that BS know the truth that staking a Prime wouldn’t end them?”

“And who’d know about Quentin’s condition to use him like that?” I said.

“Whoever Baker lost to and any onlookers.” Darsh nudged Sachie off his shoulder and stretched out his neck.

“Then that’s who we need to find,” Ezra said.

“How’d it go with your inquiries in Babel?” Sachie asked.

“We ran into a very helpful shedim who was one of our unknowns,” Ezra said in a wry voice.

That got a smirk from Darsh. “He was so happy to service the Crimson Prince.”

“You mean be of service,” Ezra corrected, but the other vamp just batted his lashes innocently.

“That too.”

Ezra shot him the finger and Darsh laughed.

Nice to see I wasn’t the only one who swung hot and cold with Ezra. “What did that shedim say?” I tore off a ragged cuticle. “Why was he on the banned list?”

“He tried to poison a rival in one of the lounges,” Ezra said. “Cheating in games is fine but the social spaces are neutral zones.”

“That rule is utter horseshit,” I muttered. “Did he tell you about the other suspects on your list? Have you whittled it down?”

“Some he crossed off for us,” Darsh said. “Others we spoke to. There are a couple more vamps to find, but none of them feel right as the one who played Quentin. Between Ezra and me, we know their reputations. They’re thugs, sheep who follow orders.”

“I talked to a few vamps in other Mafias,” Ezra said. “Still nothing about any power plays or any enmity with Calista. She stayed out of vamp politics and had enough wealth and power to stay safe from any mob looking to take over.”

“Obviously she didn’t,” I said, “given what happened.” I scratched at some dried blood on my cheek that I’d missed cleaning off. “I really, really want a shower, so what are our next steps?”

“First, take a moment to appreciate that we caught a break,” Darsh said. “We can say with ninety-five percent certainty that Baker stabbed Calista, then handed her over to a Yellow Flame, not a vamp or demon. We’d have heard something in Babel if either were involved.”

“Great. Who and to do what though?” I clenched my fists.

“Our moment of appreciation isn’t over,” Darsh chided. “This generation only savors achievements for like three seconds before immediately wanting more.”

“I’ll tell Delacroix that when he comes for me because I didn’t find Calista fast enough and whoever’s kidnapped her has killed her. For real this time.” I exhaled slowly, but my stomach remained in knots. “Sorry, Darsh.”

“No,” he said, “you’re right. I’m going to the Copper Hell to find out who saw Baker lose.” He smirked at Ezra again, but it was faint. “Alone. I’m all for being tied up, but I like my restraints less watery and demony. Less tentacle porn with an evil dom, more good old-fashioned rope play.”

My eyebrows shot up. Not at the rope play comment. That wasn’t news. But Ezra told him that Delacroix overpowered him?

“Darsh is lead on this case,” Ezra said, “and he deserved to know that if we returned to the Copper Hell, I might be more of a hindrance than a help.”

I crossed my arms. “Did I ask?”

“Not out loud.” He leaned back against the railing with a small smile.

Sach shot me a look that said I’d be sharing that story with her.

“How will you get in without me?” Ezra asked Darsh.

“I told you.” He ran a hand under his arm. “Tricks. Sleeve.”

“Yeah? Pretty interesting tricks if they allow you entry as a Maccabee,” Ezra said. “What’s your story, Darsh? Since you know so much of mine. Do you have some nicknames you haven’t shared with the class? I’m sure you had a rich and varied life before making a deal to become an operative.”

Sach nudged my leg and I shrugged, both of us dying to know what Ezra might have found out. Did Darsh have the equivalent of the Prime Playboy in his past? The Crimson Prince? What could he possibly have done to be sentenced by the Maccabees? Vamp criminals didn’t serve jail time. They were staked. How did he talk them out of that and into letting him be an operative instead?

“Whatever you think you know,” Darsh said mildly, “you don’t.” He smiled at Ezra. “And curiosity killed the cat. It would be prudent to remember that.”

Speaking of cats, Darsh reminded me of one who lived deep in the jungle. He was slinky lethal elegance, from the way he stretched out his legs—lulling you into believing he didn’t have a care in the world and certainly wasn’t attuned to your tiniest movement, definitely wouldn’t pounce in a blink—to the purr in his voice that never quite went away.

The Roma weren’t accepted, even today. I couldn’t imagine what kind of horrible discrimination Darsh had faced back when he was still human. Had he adopted these characteristics then, or had he formed and perfected this lazy insouciance after he’d turned?

Ezra pursed his lips, studying Darsh, but he didn’t push it.

“Now I’m rethinking my plan to go to the Copper Hell,” Darsh said, “because the more time passes, the greater the danger Aviva is in from Delacroix. I was focused on the investigation and not your safety.”

“Okay, hang on,” I backpedaled. “Yeah, I got whiny, but that was mostly because I just watched a guy die horribly and I was nervous about the same happening to me, courtesy of demon Davy Jones. That doesn’t mean I want a bodyguard, especially if it compromises our search. Darsh, you’re the best candidate to go to the Copper Hell. We still have a day and a half before Calista’s stake organically comes out, longer if it keeps being jammed in. I doubt whoever has her will kill her before they use her to achieve their goal, and we’ll know when that happens. We can talk more about keeping me safe then, but meantime, accept that I’m tired and sorry.”

“No apology necessary.” Darsh stood up. “Sach, Avi, go home and get some rest so that bright and early tomorrow you can comb Quentin’s accounts for any unusual deposits.”

“I doubt he needed to be paid to go after Calista,” I said.

“Me too, but we can hope. As for you, Ezra?” My friend’s smile widened. “Phone Michael back and coordinate the cleanup.”

Ezra’s sour look was a thing of beauty.

Sachie was subdued enough on the drive home that I wasn’t grabbing for the handle every five seconds. That in itself was all kinds of wrong, but I didn’t have time to dwell because I’d already texted Olivier that I was going to be a half hour late and I didn’t want to keep him waiting longer.

I raced into the condo, took the world’s fastest shower where I still managed to use up the rest of my fancy bath wash, changed into jeans and a sweater, and hurried into the living room.

“Where are you going?” Sach stared up at me with bleary eyes, scrolling on her phone. Her hair was wet, she had her favorite pj’s and thick sleep socks on, and her forearms were pinkish from having scrubbed them religiously to cleanse herself of that entire awful Quentin situation. She let out a huge yawn. “I’m ordering pizza. Or sushi. Maybe Indian. What do you feel like?”

“I’m meeting Olivier.” I zipped up my boots.

“Ooh. Poké, good suggestion.” She waggled her eyebrows. “You’re up for a date with Point Break?”

“I show you one video of him surfing…” I muttered.

“That man can curl my wave anytime. Bump my lip. We could get pitted together. Shorepound⁠—”

“I’m putting the parental controls back on your Google searches,” I said drolly.

“That’s okay. I saved an entire PDF of terms to annoy you.”

“You’re a source of endless joy.” I transferred my wallet, keys, and phone into a smaller purse. I could have left it on that joking note, but after all that had happened today, did I really want to? Quentin had been so desperate to be seen that he’d gone mad wondering if he was still alive, burning and cutting himself to find proof of his existence. But when he finally was seen, he killed himself rather than be lost to that invisibility again.

Keeping Cherry invisible was exhausting. I wasn’t ready to come out before I was completely convinced that Sachie could handle my truth, but maybe I could share a bit of it.

“It’s not a date,” I said. “I’m looking into where the blood that was drained out of those infernal murder victims ended up. I think there may be a connection with a robbery the Trad cops are investigating.”

Sachie blinked, then laughed and gave a fist pump. “Darsh owes me ten bucks,” she crowed.

“Yo-you can’t have known I was going to do this.” I gripped the top of the sofa, able to taste my heartbeat.

“Riiiiight,” she scoffed. “Because I haven’t been your best friend for a gazillion years and lived with you and stuff.”

“What does that mean?” She knows played on a loop in my head. I mentally assembled lists of items for a hasty move.

Sach did a double take at my sharp tone. “Jeez, chill. You beat the shit out of Roman Whittaker, trying to learn why he and the doctor murdered those people, and when he only spouted that vampire invincibility bullshit, you ripped his tongue out. You are so committed to attaining justice, and those victims were denied it. Even if they were infernals, most of them were good people.”

Even if. My best friend, one of the most open-minded and inclusive people around, couldn’t escape the global rhetoric and lose the conditional praise of those half shedim. I didn’t want her to accept me because she knew me as good people. I wanted acceptance. Full stop. I mustered up a faint smile.

Sachie tapped her screen. “I want Thai.”

“Okay, well, I’m heading out.”

She flung a pillow at me and hit me in the chest. “Ask for help if you need it. I’m your person, dummy.”

I hugged the pillow to my chest, knowing it was true with ninety-nine percent of my heart and mind. I consoled myself that one day, we’d get all the way there. It was a bittersweet feeling, but like so much in my life, I put the emotions into a neat little box, tucked it away, and focused on what I had to do.

This was a baby step in terms of coming clean to my best friend, but it was still a step. Or maybe it was the outline of a gate in the walls I’d erected as a stronghold for my entire life. Either way, there was the start of a path that I hoped would one day take me to her side with no secrets between us.

“I know,” I said, “and I will.”

“Good.” She paused, and something dark passed over her. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed it, but Darsh is getting worse. I see him staring at the sky sometimes, at night. I don’t know what he sees, but he always looks so sad.”

I shrugged helplessly. “You think he’ll talk to us?”

“Not until he’s good and ready.” She sighed. “Go away and let me order my pad Thai.” She waggled her fingers at me in a wave. “Don’t burn anything down.”

“Not a date.” I grabbed my coat and purse, and left, feeling better than I had all day. Granted, it was a shit day, but if I wasn’t yet ready and able to be an open book, at least I’d revealed there was a story to tell.