Chapter 5

Chapter5

There was a moment of incredulous silence, then all hell broke loose.

“Did you just pull nonexistent rank instead of helping me in the first place?” I snarled. My fingers twitched, and I regretted not slipping one of the many lovely, sharp, throwable weapons Sachie kept around our condo under my suit jacket this morning.

Sadly, I was drowned out by the others who couldn’t believe I’d phoned him at all.

Ezra didn’t bother chiming in. He simply stood there, arms crossed and foot tapping, which only fired the rest of us up more.

“Enough!” Michael’s voice sliced through the commotion, and we fell silent. She turned to me. “I’m not blaming you for your failure to secure the evidence, the body, or three people’s lost memories.”

How generous of you.

“But how could you share what, even you, Operative Fleischer, should have identified as classified details?”

Even me? I ground my teeth together. I was an exemplary Maccabee. That wasn’t ego. I’d worked insanely hard to be outstanding in my field.

My mother’s gibe didn’t stem from a lack of professionalism. It boiled down to the same thing: I was a half shedim.

Vampires hadn’t been accepted without a lot of fear and bloodshed, and that was with the friendliest of them stepping out of the shadows in the 1960s to run a focused public relations campaign and allow them to walk openly among us. Some were good, others weren’t, but either way, many were worshipped like celebrities.

Shedim, on the other hand, were feared and despised. As they should be. There was no such thing as a good demon. The shitty thing was that people were convinced that the pure evil inherited from a shedim overrode any possible humanity in their children.

I’d worked my ass off trying to become the youngest level three operative, the top rank before chapter director. A goal, by the way, that should have happened with the last case had Michael not gone back on her promise with a bullshit excuse. All I wanted was the chance to distinguish myself as a great Maccabee, both in regularly solving hard-hitting cases and mentoring those under me to help them achieve their own greatness to keep humanity safe.

I’d be such a force for good that when the day arrived that I came clean about my shedim side to my friends and colleagues, I’d be respected and embraced, parlaying that goodwill into a global change of thinking about my kind.

Except, how would that be possible when my own mother believed the worst of me? I was trying to adjust my plan and be such a model operative that Michael couldn’t ignore promoting me, but damn, she was making it tough.

“I called the sole fellow operative who could verify my hypothesis that our victim was a Prime,” I said. “As was absolutely my right.” My words dripped off my lips like ice. “Ezra clearly had information that this operation was at risk and did not share it. Yell at him.”

“I can yell at both of you,” Michael said. “Don’t underestimate my multitasking skills.”

There was no danger of that. Still, I should have gotten a gold medal for the self-restraint I showed by not slow-clapping her for her mastery of shitting on me while dealing with other things.

However, that wasn’t a fight to have in her office in front of her operatives—even ones who were my friends. I could separate out being a Maccabee and her kid. She might not be able to, but she held all the cards here.

Ezra, however, was totally fair game.

“You put being a Prime first,” I said, “so don’t you dare come in here now and throw me under the bus.”

“Look.” He spread his hands wide with a placating smile that I itched to smack off his face. “You can waste a lot of time trying to identify your victim or I can tell you who she is and why this is a larger problem than you realize.”

“Someone’s angling for a gold star,” Darsh said.

Ezra ignored him. “Provided you put me in charge.”

“This should be good,” Sachie said.

“No deal,” Darsh said. “You’re emotionally compromised.”

Ezra looked at me.

I wiped my sweaty palms on my trousers. Would he expose my half-shedim status to Darsh and Sachie as proof that I’d been emotionally compromised—that I’d kept pretty freaking huge secrets—on the last case and still been able to co-lead?

If Michael learned I’d told Ezra of all people what I was? Well, I wasn’t sure what punishment would fit that crime, but my mother was nothing if not creative.

I shot Ezra a pleading look, though it killed me to do so.

He pressed his lips together but didn’t say anything.

“You can’t lead because you need someone with distance to make smart, rational decisions that will solve this faster,” Darsh said. “I understand your unease, since Primes are supposed to be near infallible, and I promise we’ll do everything to find the killer. Help us or hinder us. It’s your choice.”

Ezra scratched a hand through the close-cropped black beard that lent him a piratical air, then nodded reluctantly. “Her name is Calista. She was the only other Prime, and while I don’t know her exact age, speculation put her in her seven hundreds.”

“That’s pretty old,” Sachie said. “Was Emily—I mean, Calista, compos mentis?”

Most vampires, once they hit the five to six hundred age range, tended to go insane from living so long.

“She was sharp as a tack,” Ezra said. “I can’t say for sure, but I don’t think immortality affects us the same way. That said, she was a nasty piece of work. She owned the Copper Hell.”

“That place.” Darsh grimaced. “Yeah, that’s a bigger problem.”

Ezra’s gaze darted away shiftily. It was just for a fraction of a second, but sadly, when it came to my ex, I was still far too attuned to his every reaction.

He was hiding something, but what? I tapped my foot against the rug.

“What’s the Copper Hell?” Sachie said, drawing my attention to the other aspect of this reveal I wasn’t clear on.

“It’s what they called eighteenth-century gaming halls in London catering to the lower classes, but how is it relevant?” I returned their surprised stares with exasperation. “What? I can’t watch documentaries? And why does it matter if Calista owned one of them back then?”

“This club is very much modern day, though it’s been around for at least a couple hundred years.” Michael massaged her temples with her index fingers. “And it’s not just any gambling house. It caters to a magic clientele, and the stakes are far higher and deadlier than any run-of-the-mill casino.”

“Suffice it to say,” Ezra said, “we have to find the body immediately.”

“Why the body and not the perp?” Sachie said. “I mean, we’ll find Calista, but at this point, her killer is the priority, right?”

“Obviously the killer will have her body,” Ezra said impatiently.

“That’s not what you said.”

“You’re a sharp operative. You should have been able to figure that out.”

Sachie reached for her blade that Darsh still held, but he tucked it into his pocket. She crossed her arms with a humph.

Ezra impatiently shook his head. “Where are we setting up shop?”

Darsh shifted sideways to block the door. “Answer Sachie’s question.”

“There’s nothing to answer,” Ezra said.

Darsh studied him for a long moment. “You’re lying.”

Ezra’s fangs descended.

Nippers, as fresh converts to the life immortal were known, could barely control their fangs. One strong emotion, and bam! Fangs out. Older vampires, like Darsh, exercised the same level of control over them as an adult would with their own desires: there was a time and a place for such things. Ezra, being a Prime, had exceedingly good control of himself and his vampiric reflexes, rivalling that of many much older vampires.

I scanned the room, marking possible weapons. If something about Calista’s death was making Ezra bug out this badly, then I wanted to get cracking on this case. I mean, I’d also happily arm myself, but that was secondary.

To me.

Sachie crossed her foot onto her knee for ready access to the thin stake she had stashed in her boot.

Michael tucked a strand of her silver hair behind her ear, letting things unfold, and mostly watching Darsh’s reaction. He didn’t look worried.

Humans and vampire operatives were trained to work together. I couldn’t say that Ezra and Darsh would never come to blows, but neither of these vampires would hurt Sachie, Michael, or me.

Still, it was tough to reconcile that intellectual understanding with Ezra’s puffed-out chest and the red haze that clouded his eyes.

My fight-or-flight response had definitely cast its vote.

Speaking of the workings of my primal brain, Cherry Bomb watched the situation between the pair unfold with the enthusiasm of a fan at Wimbledon.

“Careful what you accuse me of,” Ezra said softly.

Darsh scratched his hair free of its bun. “Touchy, aren’t you? Why? You lie on a regular basis gathering intel for our fine organization. I don’t care that it’s your go-to response, but I won’t allow you to compromise my investigation by withholding information from me.”

Ezra’s fangs retracted, his eyes going back to their regular color, but he laughed coldly. “You think you could make me share anything I didn’t want to?”

Darsh sashayed closer. “I have all sorts of tricks up my sleeve, but I don’t need them.” He poked Ezra in the chest. “My squad, my rules. You’ll play by them or leave.”

Ezra shifted his weight like he was going for door number two. That was crazy. He clearly wished to be part of this. Someone had murdered a Prime. There was no way he would sit back and wait for the outcome of our search.

I stood up and gently touched his shoulder. “Please stay. We need you. And you need to be here.”

The look he flashed me before he wrestled his face into that infuriating calm mask reminded me of a wounded animal who’d been freed from its trap but expected that they’d fallen into a worse fate.

“I started being challenged by grown vamps as a kid.” Ezra flexed his hand then tightened it into a fist. No wonder Calista used an Eishei Kodesh alias if constant fights were the alternative. “My father impressed upon me that anyone who could defeat a Prime could destabilize vamp power structures in an ugly way. I don’t know what our perp wants with Calista, but it’s in our interests to retrieve her body and keep this entire thing secret. If we can’t?” He spread his hands wide. “It’s better that word gets out she killed herself than someone managed this unthinkable attack.”

“That’s a long-winded way of admitting you’re feeling incredibly vulnerable right now.” Darsh held out his arms. “Bring it in.”

“I’d rather be staked,” Ezra said dryly.

Darsh grinned. “If I find our perp, I’ll ask for tips.”

“Darsh, get keys to the elevator so that only you four can access the basement,” Michael said.

“I’d like to sweep it for bugs, both magic and tech,” Ezra said.

Surprisingly, Michael didn’t argue that our chapter couldn’t possibly be compromised. “Go ahead.”

“How will you do that? Is Silas still in town?” Darsh said, too blandly.

Silas, a Southern vamp who was Ezra’s best friend, got under Darsh’s skin, but how much of that was his sweet old-fashioned charm grating on my cynical friend and how much of it was Darsh’s attraction to the other vampire was anyone’s guess.

“No,” Ezra said. “He’s back in Charleston, but I’ve learned to fend for myself on a few matters.” He’d have to if others were constantly gunning for him.

“Silas is not to be brought on to this case or given any details,” Michael said. “Five of us is already four too many to keep Calista’s death a secret.” My mother was a big fan of secrets, that’s for sure. She flicked her hand in dismissal, and we all headed for the door.

“Remember,” she said, “updates in real time.”

The second we were out in the hallway, Darsh slung an arm over my and Sachie’s shoulders. “The band is back together.”

“Did Silas go solo?” I joked.

“Yes. He’ll release a thoroughly unmemorable album and fade away.” Darsh did a two-step and neat little spin. “Us, on the other hand? We have choreography.”

“Yeah, we do.” Sachie did a hip shimmy.

I groaned.

I’d enjoyed many a night out dancing with Darsh and Sach, all of us hopped up on music and the sheer pleasure of cutting loose with good friends. The only downside was whatever song Darsh dubbed our choreo number for the evening. There wasn’t any advance notice, he simply “felt it in his veins” when some random opening notes played.

He and Sach loved breaking out into synchronized dance movements, but I was always a half step and a quarter turn in the wrong direction. Don’t get me wrong. I danced fine freestyle, but put me in a group number with staged moves and I was not a pretty sight.

That didn’t account for all my unease, however. There’d been a forced note to his voice and movements, almost manic, and I was worried that his normal glittery persona was nothing more than a costume right now.

“No choreo,” I protested.

Darsh raised an eyebrow. “Who’s the boss here? There will be mandated dance breaks to keep our energy up and our spirits high.”

Ezra lagged behind, his fists clenched, and his expression pinched tight.

Darsh turned back to him. “Cardoso? I may kid around, but I gave you my word. We’ll get whoever did this to your friend.” His expression was serious, but his eyes glittered intensely. Was this another part of Darsh’s mysterious past?

“Oh, we’re not friends,” Ezra said. “The one time I met Calista, she tried to kill me. I’d planned to return the favor.” He smirked but it was a shadow of his usual arrogance. “I hate when others crash my party.”

My heart cracked at his lame attempt at levity. He could joke all he wanted, but when we were dating, he’d shared how hard it was being the only male Prime, being a Jewish vampire, being the son of a powerful mobster. With Calista dead, Ezra was the last known of his kind. It was bound to do a number on him emotionally.

I looped my arm through his. “Then let’s crash theirs.”