Chapter 28

Chapter28

The second we entered the main part of the pub, Darsh and Sachie sprung up from their barstools, both of them rigid with tension.

Sach explained that they’d bounced right out of the portal. I gave a soft “thanks” to the universe that they were safe. Professional demeanor now, all the hugs later.

Darsh raked a quick but thorough gaze over me and took Maud from my custody.

Sachie grimaced at the blood clotting Maud’s nostrils and the bruise over the bridge of her nose. “Did you do that?” she asked quietly, holding me back to speak to me while Darsh escorted Maud through the empty pub. “Michael is going to freak out if you get another complaint on an arrest.”

“Maud attacked first,” I said and headed for the door.

The Jolly Hellhound should have been open for lunch. Darsh must have commandeered it until my safe return.

“As you’re a Chinese national, but the crime was committed on Canadian soil,” he informed Maud when we caught up with them outside, “we’ll be petitioning to have you tried here.”

This was a tricky situation, because the Maccabee presence in China was tenuous. There was a rift to the Brink outside Shanghai and obviously Eishei Kodesh among the city’s millions of people, but we were allowed only a minimal setup in that city, and none in any of the others. Hong Kong was an exception, since we’d established ourselves there during the one hundred and fifty plus years of British colonialism. The Chinese government let us stay when Hong Kong reverted back to them, but this might well test our privileges.

Luckily, my story cut through all those problems. “Maud was a victim. She won’t be prosecuted.”

I couldn’t read the look Darsh shot me and that bothered me. I followed him over to Sachie’s car, trying to catch his eye, but failed.

No one asked questions until we had Maud set up in the interview room in the basement at HQ. Sachie took her statement, while Darsh ensconced me in the conference room for my debrief. This was all fairly standard, but I would much rather have had Sach question me, because I could keep my racing heart and the sweat beading on the back of my neck from her.

I stuck to the truth as much as possible, keeping Maud’s half-shedim nature a secret. When I brought up Delacroix’s admission that he’d forced Ezra to kill Calista, I gave free rein to all my anxiety, hoping Darsh would take Ezra as the cause of my concern.

Sachie joined us with details of her interview. Maud’s experience in bluffing and knowing how much detail to give away in order to win big served her well. Our stories matched up, not to the letter, which would have been weird, but in alignment enough to be completely believable. Like me, she’d stuck to the truth as much as she could, with the compulsion being the notable falsehood.

Maud even accounted for why she lied about her magic type her entire life, saying it was so rare that her mother was scared she’d be used by people wanting to take advantage of it. It was a justified fear for people with unique magic abilities.

We’d achieved the best possible outcome, but this was only stage one.

People weren’t held accountable when committing acts under magic compulsion, however, the process to determine that was indeed the case was rigorous, going through various levels of specialists. Ordinarily, Maud would have sessions with a number of Maccabee psychiatrists, and with the director herself. Since Michael wanted Calista’s abduction and death kept secret, Darsh wasn’t sure how this would be handled. My testimony would likely have more weight, but he went upstairs with my debrief report and the interview tape to speak to Michael.

Well, he went after I crushed him and Sachie in a hug, telling them how scared I was that they were lost to the portal. They’d been torn between fears that the same had happened to me and that I’d made it in and was on my own in the Hell.

Sachie and I grabbed food from the fridge, got some tea and snacks for Maud, since she was still being held in the interview room, and collapsed on the sofas, waiting for Darsh to return. I told my friend how terrifying yet beautiful it was to behold Delacroix in his demon form and that my presence was expected at a future Brimstone Breakfast Club.

Sachie munched on a cracker. “That’s not good, Avi. It’s bad enough he coerced Ezra, a Prime, to do something for him, but if the shedim compromises you?” She shook her head. “Your career will be toast. Stay far, far away from him.”

Would Sachie believe her career would be comprised being too close to a half shedim like me?

“I’ll do my best,” I said, “but I don’t want him putting a target on my back because he’s feeling ignored either.”

“We’ll figure out a way to keep you safe. Until you can kill him anyway. Our world will be better off without him.”

“Yeah.” I meant that with ninety-five percent of my heart. A solid eighty-seven percent of it. Fine, I had to sort out my conflicting feelings between wanting him dead and wanting all the answers about who I was. I had secrets and a few minor sins on my conscience—jealousy and lust—but patricide? That was a flagrant disregard of twenty percent of Moses’s commandments right there. Though Delacroix was a demon, so maybe killing him would be a mitzvah.

Remember how good it felt to kill Constantine?My mental picture of Cherry Bomb waggled her eyebrows at me.

I’d killed Constantine because he’d tried to kill me, and because vamp criminals tended to be staked instead of imprisoned, but that defense rang hollow. Maud had given the orders, and I was bending over backward to protect her. The truth was, it had been fantastic to give in to my bloodlust.

Darsh returned. He sank onto the edge of a chair and scrubbed a hand over his face.

“Well?” I prodded.

“Michael is going to question Maud and put her through an assessment with Dr. Olsen.” She was bringing in one of the Authority Council to interview Maud? My mother really wasn’t trusting the information of how a Prime had been abducted to just anyone. I rubbed my chin. Dr. Olsen was notoriously thorough. She’d broken supposedly rock-solid stories before.

I had to assume this one would hold, because if it tanked, I was going down with it.

“Where’s Michael doing it?” I wasn’t ready to face my mother so soon after my shedim family reunion.

“She’ll be down in a few minutes,” Darsh said. He knotted his silky brown hair into a bun at the nape of his neck. “She was oddly sympathetic to Maud’s plight.”

That possibility hadn’t occurred to me, but it should have. My mother hadn’t been compelled, but she didn’t get involved with Delacroix knowing the truth either. I shuddered, trying to cover it with a cough like I’d choked on my sandwich, but ewwwwww. That demon and my mother had sex.

“She should be sympathetic,” Sachie said. “Like you said, Avi, Maud is a victim.”

“She’s a survivor,” I said.

There was no reason for Michael to assume that Maud was a half shedim and shared the same demon daddy as I did, but my stomach was a knot. I’d always assumed I was a one-off, not that I had siblings. Had my mother ever wondered about that or tried to look into it? Michael had never told me the demon’s name. She’d said there was no point. If she knew him as Delacroix, that name was all over my debrief and Maud’s interview. Was my mother aware of who I’d been crossing paths with?

I wished that I’d pressed her on my demon father’s identity growing up, because right now, I had no clue what information my mother had and what might undermine my plan to get Maud out of any charges. I couldn’t count on Michael’s sympathy if Maud’s true nature came to light, given the hard line my mother had taken with me.

There was a more pressing hard line to deal with, however.

“What about Ezra?” I said. “Is he safe from Maccabee retribution?”

“Provided he admits to being forced to kill Calista, then yes,” Darsh said.

“He probably couldn’t say anything at the time,” Sachie said. “A magic bond would ensure Ezra’s cooperation and his silence. But who knows if he can admit to it now?”

“True.” Darsh leaned back against the sofa cushions. “Though there are ways around that in how we question him. I’m not as worried about what he can and can’t say as what he will and won’t. He’s not one for sharing.”

“That’s not fair,” I said. “He’s come clean of his own volition a bunch of times, and I’m sure if he could have admitted what was up, he would have.”

“Why did Delacroix let you leave?” Darsh said out of the blue.

I flinched then scrambled for something to explain my reaction. “What, you’re saying that he was going to just keep me in the Copper Hell forever? Out of spite? That’s a shitty thing to wish on someone.”

“I don’t wish it, but this shedim placed a magic gag on Ezra, yet he let you and Maud leave in one piece and report back?” Darsh shrugged, watching me. “Odd, don’t you think, puiul meu?”

“Delacroix has taken a personal interest in Avi,” Sachie said. “That was evident as soon as he invited her into the demon realm.”

Darsh went dangerously still. “He what?”

Sach shoved my shoulder. “You didn’t tell him?”

“Not on purpose. There was a lot going on and I forgot. He brought me for threats and his creepy senior’s special.”

“You’re forgetting to share a lot of things recently,” Darsh said. “My feelings are starting to get hurt.”

“Darsh—”

The elevator doors opened, and Michael strode toward us. She gave Sachie and me a brief nod. “Good job.”

That was it? This was the first time she’d seen me since I’d been in an explosion. Obviously, we were at work, and she’d never hug me, but could this have been more underwhelming? Was a simple “glad you’re alive” too unprofessional for her? She’d sanctioned me pretending to be dead and feeding from Ezra. A little gratitude for the commitment to my job would not be unwarranted.

I kept a tight smile on my face as my mother passed me.

She paused. Then squeezed my shoulder and continued on her way. “Now where’s Ms. Liu?”

“Over here.” Darsh led the director to the interview room.

Sachie slung an arm around my shoulder.

I rested my head against hers. “When Daniel broke his leg, she arranged meals for his kids that first week.” Our chapter head’s custodian was a single dad, and it was very considerate of Michael, but I was her kid and all I rated was a shoulder squeeze?

“She holds you to a different standard,” Sach said. “She always has. You know she cares about you. She’s always made sure that people are clear that you’ve earned everything you’ve achieved.” She sighed. “She just goes too far the other way with how she treats you in a professional context.”

“Okay, fine, but it was me and my two best friends. You guys weren’t going to report her for unprofessional conduct. I wasn’t asking her to rend her shirt and wail. Just take two seconds and say, ‘I’m glad you’re alive.’” My chest was tight, and my mouth was dry as a desert.

I needed to get away, to clear my head and think. I mumbled some excuse to Sach about taking a walk and escaped.

Outside, people went about their normal lives, grabbing coffees, pushing strollers, and doing errands. Life still went on. Millions of people coursed through this city, unaware of the evil lurking. They bought lunch, chatted at stoplights, bumped into each other coming and going from work to home and back again.

It all seemed so fragile, a weary system with a delicate balance. We worked so hard for this to stay like this. Why did things have to change?

Maybe that’s why my wandering led me to the hotel where Ezra was staying.

I wasn’t exactly surprised to find myself peering through the glass front doors. Ever since his return, we’d been magnets, flipping poles to push and pull each other, and I could no longer handle our dynamic. Not in light of all the many other revelations of today.

Ezra had to leave—Vancouver and my life—once and for all.

I rode the elevator up to the penthouse suite, tapping my foot to stomp out my desire to seek emotional comfort from my ex after meeting my father.

Ezra answered the door, bleary-eyed and barefoot, in jeans and a T-shirt stretched tight over his torso. It bore a stylish logo from a vamp soccer team. He leaned his forearm against the doorframe, clinking the ice cubes in the glass of blood dangling from his hand. The drink reeked of booze.

I crossed my arms, seriously unable to believe he was feeling injured and sad after blowing up our team and ruining our mission. He’d gotten exactly what he wanted. “Am I interrupting your pity party?”

He swallowed some of his cocktail. “Just trying to fall asleep.”

Eishei Kodesh vamps didn’t require much rest, and Ezra as a Prime required even less. When he did sleep, he dropped into it immediately and deeply, though he remained always on guard for danger. We had a bet back then about whether I could grab Ezra’s arm while he slept before he woke up and caught me. I got bored after seventeen days.

I never considered it beyond a cursory “huh,” but Ezra let me be around him while he slept. Granted, they were cat naps not lasting more than ten or fifteen minutes, and he’d go elsewhere to sleep when Sachie was home, but he’d permitted himself to be incredibly vulnerable around me.

As proven, he’d wake up at the tiniest noise, so there wasn’t a huge danger, but still.

“Aviva.” Ezra rested his head against his arm braced on the doorframe. “What did you want?”

We’d gone from being more vulnerable with each other than anyone else, to being two feral cats circling each other.

I brushed off the heaviness in my chest. “I know that Delacroix made you kill Calista in order to get free and leave the Hell that night.”

“Girl detective badge unlocked,” he said wryly. “Is that all or did you need something else?”

I frowned, expecting surprise or anger. Once again, Sachie, Darsh, and I had learned that the invincible armor that Ezra presented to the rest of the world had some major dings and chunks torn out of it. That he was not as he appeared. But he didn’t seem to care at all.

I glanced to my sides at the long hallway leading to the elevator. It was very plush and very empty. “Can I come in?”

“I’m not up to company.” He shut the door.

I jammed my boot forward before he could close it all the way. “Conquering the world is a bloody, messy business that’s bound to do your head in.”

He took another swig. “I’m too tired for whatever cryptic shit you’re alluding to.”

Was indifference his new armor or was something wrong? I narrowed my eyes. “Something” being the traumatic reality of murdering the only other person like him in existence? His desire for payback notwithstanding? I motioned at his left biceps. “Your tattoo. ‘I dreamed of conquering the world.’”

Ezra stared at it for a moment then laughed harshly and walked away, leaving the door open.

I followed him inside, shut the door, and leaned against the wood. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing.”

I clenched my fists. “Another secret to add to all the others. You keep all your cards so close to your chest, Ezra. Trying to understand you, to connect with you is exhausting.”

“Is that what you’ve been doing?” He fired back his drink. “Connecting? I don’t think that means what you think it means.”

“We discussed this years ago,” I snapped. “You’re no Inigo. Also, don’t make me out to be some bitch. If you have something to say, then say it.”

He set his glass down with a decisive clunk. “I take back the girl detective badge comment. You’re a shitty investigator.”

I sucked in a breath. “I’m an excellent detective. Think what you want of me personally, but don’t you dare disparage my professional abilities.”

“Oh, I dare.” He prowled toward me, his silent footfalls only underlining the barely leashed violence in the set of his jaw and shoulders.

Oh, hello.

Shut up, Cherry.

“You think you’re so clever,” Ezra said, “but you couldn’t even do a proper Google search, Sherlock.”

“Meaning?”

He slammed his left hand against the door, level with my ear.

I flinched and glared at him.

His lips curled into a mocking grin, and he fired off something in Spanish.

“Slower and in English?” I attempted to smack his arm away, but I didn’t budge it.

Ezra folded back his shirt-sleeve. The tattoo read cuando era niño soñaba con conquistar el mundo.

“Fine. I missed a couple of words. What of it?”

“When I was a kid, I dreamed of conquering the world.”

“Mazel tov,” I said sarcastically. “Your delusions started young.”

“Ahora me doy cuenta que tú eres mí mundo y me has conquistador.”

“What’s that? A comment on how much I suck?”

“More or less. When I was a kid, I dreamed of conquering the world, now I realize that you’re my world and you have conquered me.” He placed his right hand on the other side of my head, effectively trapping me. “You only got part of the quote.”

I barely heard him over the rushing in my ears. Ezra had never said he loved me when we were together. I hadn’t expected it in our whirlwind six-month relationship, though it had been true for me.

I stared at the dark ink against his brown skin.

Was my best-case scenario really that he’d tattooed this on himself for another woman? The idea of him loving someone else made me want to vomit, but it had been six years since our breakup, and I doubted he’d lived like a monk.

But, fuck. It was so much worse if he had loved me just as much and still walked away. He claimed he didn’t care about Cherry, but if that were true, he should have stuck it out with me. There was nothing we couldn’t face together, not even his father’s disapproval if he found out his prince and heir was seeing an infernal. I suspected that had a lot to do with it.

You’re my world and you have conquered me. I reached for his tattoo with twitching fingers to trace the ink, but instead, I made a fist and slammed it into his gut.

His grunt didn’t make me feel better because I may have broken a finger on his rock-hard abs. What a dick.

“You tattooed that incredibly beautiful saying on yourself as a cautionary tale? Asshole!” I punched him again. This time in the biceps, which were no less hard, but my hand was still mostly numb from my previous attempt at grievous bodily harm, so it didn’t hurt. Not physically anyway.

He caught my hand. “Beautiful?”

“Objectively, yes,” I said through gritted teeth, trying and failing to pull free.

His eyes crinkled at the corners, and he rocked back on his heels. “Want to know when I got it?”

“Nope.”

“Right after our reunion in Michael’s office on the last case.”

This immortal vampire wanted a piece of me on his skin forever? I went still. Swallowing suddenly became very difficult.

“The second you saw me, you went right for my throat,” he continued. “Metaphorically speaking.”

“It was my consolation prize. I meant to go for your balls. Literally speaking.”

“I know.” His amusement vanished. “It wasn’t a cautionary tale, and it wasn’t penance. It was a realization, six years and a breakup too late, that for all my dreams of power, I’d been irrevocably and forever conquered.”

Every fiber of my being quivered under the weight of his words, threatening to unravel me at the seams. The room seemed smaller, suffocatingly intimate, as though his admission had erected impenetrable walls around us.

I ducked under his arm and stomped deeper into the room. “Am I supposed to melt at that declaration?”

“A mild swoon might be nice.” He stood there, his eyes soft, and his hands spread wide, with a soft grin tugging at his lips and that damn tattoo taunting me.

Fury rose hot and tight inside me. It wasn’t penance? Well, it should be. I sauntered toward him. “I don’t want a realization. I want you to taste regret like ash on your lips and to burn all the color from your world.” I rose onto tiptoe and whispered in his ear, relishing his shiver. “Conquering you isn’t enough, Ezra. I want to ruin you.”