3. Evan

3

EVAN

“ T his is fucking stupid.”

“No… you know what's fucking stupid is that you're gonna blow our cover if you keep saying shit like that.” Tell glowers at me over the rim of his ridiculous shades. The bar is noisy, crowded. No one is likely to hear us.

Still.

I frown, losing a bit of my composure.

“Yeah, keep doing that.”

“What?”

“Looking like you want to kick my ass. That’s so in character.”

“Eat shit.” Performance, acting. It usually doesn’t get to me, but Tell has a special way of getting under my skin.

“Sure thing. Just as soon as you get your shit together, Evan ,” he hisses under his breath.

“Then maybe don't call me that, asshat. Call me… ‘Remus’ or whatever the hell my bullshit cover name is.”

“Hey, there you go! You’re getting the hang of things. Also, maybe you just shut your mouth and act tough and our names won’t matter.”

“I’ll shut your mouth.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” This. He gets me as flustered as Hellena. Not at all in the same way.

“And Remus and Romulus are kickass biker names.”

“Maybe if you’re a fourteen-year-old Sci-Fi geek,” I whisper under my breath.

“I’m a twenty-seven-year-old Sci-Fi fan , Remus . Now clamp your trap or they're going to ream us .”

“I’m about to ram-you-less face first into this bar.”

“Oh! He almost manages a functional pun!” Tell elbows me in the ribs. I swear, I am going to throw him out of a moving vehicle one of these days.

Our bickering is cut short as the burly bartender comes back. “No dice. No meeting.”

“No dice? Who even says that?” Tell growls out in his scummy, gritty biker-thug dialect. “Who talks like that, I mean, right, Remo?”

The bartender glowers at us, his lip pulling back. “I talk like that, you piece of shit. Now get the fuck out of my bar before I kick you out.”

“Come on, Sal. Did he at least tell you why? I mean, I’ve got some news he really should hear…”

“Look, dickweed, the boss doesn't tell me why, doesn’t tell me shit. He doesn't have to. Because he’s the boss. He said no. And I'm starting to think that ‘no’ needs nailing home with this baseball bat.”

“Whoa, I get it, big fella. Too much heat going on all over town, am I right?’

“Yeah, something like that. Now scram and find some other sap to make a dime off.”

Tell nods slowly, taking a deep breath, sneering at the massive bartender. “You know what? I don't need this bullshit, anyway. You tell your boss when he's ready, when he realizes he’s in the dark and needs a good scout, I’ll see if I’m available.”

“Yeah, eat shit, you lummox,” I add, finally getting into the mood and character a bit more. Tell’s eyes widen as he glances my way, his neck tensing. It almost looks like he’s trying to shake his head without shaking his head.

Too far, I guess.

“Leave. Now, you twats.” Sal’s eyes are bloodshot, his face turning purple as he flexes his arms, itching to grab that baseball bat. Definitely too far.

I flex right back at him as I stand, nodding like I could use a good fight, and head toward the door. Right about the time I notice every eye in the place on us, every knuckle popping as a dozen ratty looking street gangsters clench their fists.

Whoops.

“Go, go, go,” Tell rattles softly, nearly shoving me out the door.

“Sorry,” I shrug as we hop back into Tell’s beater car.

“Eh. Not your fault. Or mine. Shit’s locked up everywhere. Nobody’s talking. It’s like the whole town knows everything is about to go South.”

“They’re not wrong.”

We drive off in uncomfortable silence. Not because we aren’t comfortable around each other. We’ve spent the last week working together, non-stop. Gathering intel. Or trying to.

A duo is easier to pass off, work off each other, at least with some of these groups. Not to mention the fact that they’re all cagey and on edge, which means someone needs to be there to have Tell’s back in case anyone decides he needs a knife in that back.

Aside from that, Tell has been helping me do research, deliver on favors, attempt to keep people calm in Sanctum, and keep the useful populace from running for the hills and causing a mass panic.

I would be lying if I said it was working very well.

People are scared. A foreign presence has infiltrated our town, but it’s impossible to pinpoint who Marco’s guys are. Every time we chase one down, they vanish, or they turn out to be one of the Holy Ghosts, using the threat of an impending invasion as a means to extort everyday people.

Worse than all of that, it seems like someone, who we have to assume is Marco Vice, is targeting key informants in Tell’s network and key providers in mine. He’s wiping out our infrastructure.

At this rate, I wonder what will be left for him to take over.

Unless there’s more to his game.

Past that, the Holy Ghosts are scattered, their “secret” leader, Oliver Devonde, is holed up in his office building, and the Block MC is on full lockdown aside from Ora Clive making the odd appearance to pester us.

In other words, the whole situation is FUBAR, as Gavin would say.

“Back at the office, then?”

“Yes. Plenty to do.”

“Yay. Paperwork, paperwork, paperwork. My favorite,” Tell mocks, pumping his fist.

“Just get us to the garage. I need to get out of this stupid outfit.” I sigh. “And for the record, that paperwork is paying all of our bills right now, keeping us fed.”

“I never said it wasn’t useful. It’s just your thing, not mine.”

“Too bad, baby boy.”

“Nope. Try again,” he snips.

“Act like one, get called one.”

The garage is one of many drops we have all over town. I have to give Tell credit. He built himself a useful network of supplies, hideouts, and stashes.

With our combined supplies, it makes getting around town and staying under the radar a hell of a lot easier. Especially when I am so ready to be out of this shit-smelling outfit.

I’ve never minded cigarette smoke or bars.

But every night this week, we’ve been inundated in cigar smoke, cheap beer, and the reek of the dockside fish-stink. That, combined with these chafing, itchy costumes, particularly the beards…

I’m ready for a shower and some silk sheets.

Call me a priss, but I worked hard for the finer things.

“Uh-oh, are your little cheekies too sensitive?” Tell snarks as we scrub off the makeup and I toss the prosthetic, pockmarked mess in the trash. “Hey! That’s reusable.”

“Then reuse it. I get to choose my outfit next time. And you can kiss both of my cheeks if you don’t like it.”

“Dang, ever since you started hanging out with Hella, you got a mouth on you.”

I grunt, more irritated because he’s right.

Her foul, sailor mouth has rubbed off on me. Utterly classless. Yet, she’s the most graceful creature I’ve ever seen. Irresistibly so.

Who am I kidding, anyway? She just brought it back out in me. I grew up rough.

“Besides, it's not my cheeks that are chafing at this point. It's you and your personality.”

“Come on, now. You love my personality.”

“Which one?” I snap back at him.

Tell grins from ear to ear.

The clown is incorrigible on a good day. Today… he's really out of pocket. “What we got on the docket today? More favors? Panic rooms?”

“A few. We mostly need to see if we can pin down a few of our higher-end clients. Get them to stay in Sanctum. Then we need to keep digging for info.”

“Ooh, the Sinful. You hear anything else?”

“Nope.” I almost leave it at that for now, heading upstairs through the back entrance of the office. It’s familiar, the scent, the clean, crisp nature of my workplace. “The last thing I got was just a text. Almost seemed automated. It said, “ Hold the pattern. And wait .”

“Huh. That’s the same message I just got this morning.”

“What?” I turn back, my eyebrow shooting up.

“I tried to trace it.” He shakes his head.

“Should have told me that sooner.”

“Didn’t seem that important. The only interesting thing is that we finally got the same message.”

“Instead of contrary orders?”

“Yeah.” We’re both uneasy about the fact that our ‘leadership’ was giving us conflicting guidance on how to handle Hellena. And that they had plans for her at all.

Inside, we unload our stuff in the waiting room.

At least Tell isn’t disorganized. He’s absurdly neat and clean, actually.

If I didn’t know any better, I'd think he was OCD.

Heading back through the office, I have to force myself to ignore the studio and the days, until just over a week ago, when she was here with me. I miss it. I miss her.

Worse because we’ve moved all of our stuff into her old office, the biggest room by far, best for conferences and laying out the research and paperwork Tell hates so much. We’ve got just about every file spread out, open for easy access. Hers was the biggest room, with tables and a whiteboard.

And with another set of eyes to look through things, it made the most sense.

“Being our own bosses is kinda like letting the kids run the school, huh?” Tell flops down in his usual seat.

“Speak for yourself. I’ve been my own boss for years now, with minimal input from… them.”

“Yeah, I guess I have, too. Most of the money I’ve made has been through contacts and deals. Don’t get me wrong, though. Not having a faceless overlord you have to check in with is pretty great. Minus the worry that the whole town is going to shit.”

“Right.”

“It’s this whole having you in charge that’s a little too ‘stick up my ass’ for me.”

“I don’t see you stepping up.”

“Gavin would make a way better leader.”

“Why don’t you try telling him that? He’s been on bedside duty the most of all of us.”

“Woof. I’m not taunting that bear in his cave.”

“Exactly,” I snap. What’s really rankling me is the fact that Hellena is still out. Having her to help me here, to field ideas to…

“In any case, I’m not in charge. We’re all partners in this debacle.”

“Ooh, partners, huh? Will you take me out for a fancy dinner tonight, like a real date?”

“Sure. Right after you put out and find me all the secrets of the Sinful.”

“Right away, darling. I’ll even wear that dress you like! You really think there’s anything here?”

“I have files dating back thirty years. There’s got to be something.” I ignore the mockery. It only encourages him.

And I absolutely don’t hide a smile.

That would encourage him in worse ways. Doubling down seems to be his go-to.

Even so, the fact that we both love the same woman and are fighting for our home holds us together. Tell is as dedicated to both as I am, genuinely and irrefutably. So I can’t dislike the guy. I respect the hell out of him.

The grin spreading across that jackass’s face right now tells me something else, too.

Hellena must be doing alright.

Of course, he’s going to make me ask, giving me the side eye and chuckling to himself.

“Seriously? Are you really going to leave me hanging?”

“What?”

“The text you just got.”

“Oh, just some good news.” He wags his eyebrows.

“Good news only you got, apparently…” To be fair, we have been swapping burner phones, trying not to leave a trail for anyone to follow back to Hellena, if Marco is still searching for her.

Thus, I haven’t had as much contact with Gavin.

“She's awake!”

I huff a long sigh. “I figured. Thank goodness.”

“Don’t sound so excited.”

“I really am. It’s just…”

“You are a chicken shit who would rather bury his head in his work than go see her and apologize?”

“Who says she even wants me to?”

“Oh, yeah. Good point. The guy she made love to on stage in front of the entire town? Nah. She’s over it, I’m sure.”

I glare at him for several seconds. “You’re an ass.”

“And you’re an idiot. Aside from Gavvy, you’re probably the person she wants to see most.”

“What about you?”

“Oh, it goes without saying that she’s dying to see me.”

“Full of ourselves, aren't we?”

“Hey, I’ve been there, holding her hand. At her bedside. I’ve been checking in on her Aunt.”

“Touché. But someone has to manage this town so she has a home to come back to,” I hedge. It’s out of character for me to be so evasive. I usually deal with things head on.

Except it’s her.

Nothing has been easy since I met her. She’s done nothing but challenge me to change.

Not a bad thing. A hard thing, though.

I sift through a pile, rolling my shoulders in agitation. Having all of my hard copies, files, and dirt out in the open like this rankles me, goes against everything I plan for. Anyone, particularly Marco’s men, or Devonde, could break in and find everything.

Of course, the security system should blow the whole place if that happens, a little secret I haven’t shared with Tell. Gavin helped me set it up, against his better judgment.

The main issue we’ve had trying to pinpoint cohesive info on the Sinful has been with seeing the big picture and putting all of the clues together. Hellena would be a huge help.

Since she’s awake…

“Look through that stack and the two flash drives. Maybe we can bring Hellena some good news and some work to look over if she’s feeling up to it in a day or two.”

“There you go. But why wait? We could go now.”

So tempting.

I shake my head. “I’m close to something here, and there’s the ever growing list of requests that need seeing to as well. Need to follow up with the Williams and Haverthorne accounts. If they leave without warning, half the town’s supply of food vanishes. At that rate, Sanctum will die of attrition as much as anything else.”

“Ol’ Jensen Williams owns every grocery store on the east side of town, right? They are looking for a panic room, lockdown scenario, too?”

I only nod, losing myself in the stack of manila folders in front of me.

An hour slips by, making calls and putting whimpering millionaires at ease. Tell is on his third cup of coffee and halfway through his stack of work when he leans back, rubbing his temples.

“What happens if we don’t find anything?”

“We will. Or we will figure something else out. You and I both grew up here. Neither of us can let anything happen to this town.”

“Agreed. Just putting it out there. Maybe we should start looking at other options sooner than later.”

“That’s Gavin’s job. Let him plan our contingency.”

“Fine. Oh, I forgot to tell you earlier. No dice on any leads out of City Council. No one seems to know anything official about the Seven outside of the Ball and getting their needs met, voices heard, etc. However, A few of them have received instructions in the past, voice modded phone calls with privileged info.”

“Good to know. And not all that surprising. Makes me wonder what the purpose of having a city council is, though.”

“Town still has to run like a town, I guess. Infrastructure. Daily rules and regs.”

“Right. But where does the money come from?”

Even Tell has nothing to say on that front. He is a consummate spy, a gift, supposedly. If he didn’t swear against it, Gavin and I both would be convinced he used to be CIA. The guy is an expert at infiltrating, getting people to spill even the most difficult secrets. His network of personas and contacts is unreal.

So if he can’t tell us who funds everything behind the scenes…

It always brings us back to the Seven. What little we know about them.

“Hubris. Spite. My contact and yours.”

“And Ire. Councilman Herd let it slip, just once, in a phone call a couple of years ago.”

“How did you?—”

“Computer hacker, remember? I bugged a few of them and have had their calls recorded. Just had to program a search for keywords like that. Still, I was lucky to find it in hundreds of hours of calls.”

“Impressive.”

“Yes, I am. So, that leaves… four we can assume also have cheesy theme names, right?”

“Right. And as much as I hate to assume, each of them must, or likely, has a purview in the group. Spite was your contact, could be a link to information gathering, keeping people from backstabbing one another.”

“Good guess, and Hubris could be closely linked to saving face, people being able to purchase their fantasies and deepest needs without judgment.”

“For a fee,” I retort, tapping my pen on my lips.

“My takeaway is that they really have a flair for the dramatic. Kinda like you…”

“You’re just as much of a performer, in your own way.”

He’s dead on, though. The whole thing stinks of drama, intrigue. Who could resist?

Especially people like us who thrive in the clinch, the stress of making the impossible a reality. I make dreams come true. Tell becomes another person to discover impossible secrets.

“Recap. We know that one of them is Hellena's father, Damon.” Tell rubs his face with both palms.

“Theirs is the only family that traces all the way back. However, yesterday, I finally dug up a list of ten of the richest families that first settled here. Safe to say that seven of those heads of household may have been our founders.”

“So we trace family trees, name changes, aliases. What do you want to bet some of those families are still around?”

“That was my intention. Except this is Sanctum Harbor. There’s always been someone like you, like me, covering up for people, making sure they don’t get exposed.”

“So no family trees. There’s got to be records, though.”

“Some. It’s almost three hundred years’ worth of information, and most of it is piecemeal. Not every one of my predecessors kept as good of records as I did. Not to mention digital record keeping didn’t exist for the better part of the town’s history.”

“Are you saying there’s a secret library warehouse somewhere filled with secret redacted files?”

“Probably.”

“Dude! That’s awesome!”

“Sure, if you can magically find us a treasure map.”

“YES. Call me Jones, Telliana Jones.”

“What?” I look up, raising an eyebrow.

“Please tell me you’ve seen…never mind.”

Of course I’ve seen the movies, but I love getting to him that way.

“Anyway, you said before that Rachelle, or the “Herald”, mentioned that it was a bloodline thing.”

“True, but that doesn’t guarantee it stayed in the family for certain. It’s the best I have to go on, though, so my next step is to start tracing properties. Those are a little easier to find a paper trail on.”

“Then we just have to search every one of them to check them off the list?”

“The bulk are residential, now, owned by nobodies. I just need to trace the big money. They would need land to conceal locations. Power. Water.”

“Alright… so back to the pile, I guess,” Tell grumbles, flapping another page down.

“Take these. Let’s focus on historical land grants for now.”

“Oh. Goodie.”

Another few hours slip by.

Tell breaks the silence. “Do you think they know each other?”

“No clue.”

“They would at least have to have some sort of meeting or communication, right?”

“It’s the digital era, Tell. They could encode calls. Change their voices. Faces.”

“Hmm. Yeah…” He lets it slide, but I can tell he has an idea. Let him stew on it for a while. His eyes track the page he’s on when he perks up. “Here’s something… looks like a shortlist of a series of properties bought up all at once in the 1940s. All along the Egret Ridge. Made the paper because it was sudden. A huge swath of land.”

“Sloppy,” I remark.

“Very. Except that they were pretty open about it. And they were bought up by Gander Walternon.”

“Why is that a big deal?”

“Because he’s my great-grandfather. On my mom’s side.”

I’m behind Tell, looking over the article in a heartbeat. Something else is on the edge of my memory, tickling at…

“Walternon and Segret!”

“Huh?”

“A merger of a massive logging conglomerate in the late 1800s. Walternon married Segret’s daughter.”

“And Segret is…”

“One of the founding families.”

“Oh! Could be something… Do I secretly own that land?”

“I intend to find out who does. At least it gives me some definitive landmarks to look through.”

“Good. Let me know what you find.”

“Where are you headed?” I look up, totally engrossed in a new research project.

“Speaking of my family reminded me that I haven't heard from dad, mom, or my sister in days. Maybe my dad will know something.”

“Just be careful what you tell him.”

“Hey, it’s me. I have never trusted that guy.” Tell winks, slipping out into the hallway.

I’m opening a new box of files when he pops back in. “Oh, I almost forgot. Go. See. Hellena.”

“You go see Hellena.”

“I’m going to.”

“Fine,” I snap back, my hackles rising. Why am I so fucked up about this? Shaking my head, I dive back into the charters and land deeds spread out on the table and on my computer screen.

“Who are you, Gander Walternon? And why did you never register a single one of these properties?”

All of them disappear a few years later. Every property along that ridge follows suit. Not all of the names match, but premium, overlooked property never sold. The real estate value on the land alone would be…

The pieces are too scattered, too many names to follow to find aliases. If I had a team of people, I might figure it out.

It’s getting late when I finally call it quits, standing to close up shop for the day.

A single folder flips off the desk, a nonsensical collection of copies of old article clippings.

And there, staring up at me, is the headline:

Sanctum Harbor Mogul Killed in Mysterious Accident.

And right below that…

...found along Egret Ridge near his secluded house...

There must be a connection.

This must be one of the Seven.