33

Ophelia

Devin is going to confront Haverstad's campaign manager.

Tonight.

Even though he agreed to talk on the record and take Cas's payment for his tuition, apparently he still feels like shit for the part he played in the hoax and wants to do more to try to make it right. And, with all the certainty and recklessness of a twenty-year-old committed to a half-cracked idea, he needed to make it happen as soon as possible.

Audra couldn't talk him out of it. The best she could do was convince him to wear a wire when he did, and collect some evidence that would help him further assuage a guilty conscience for ever agreeing to be part of this mess.

I relay the details to Cas. The meeting with Derham, the campaign manager, will take place in a cemetery of all places in just over an hour.

Unsurprisingly, Cas takes it all in stride, even when I get to the part about my offer to Audra to provide some backup at the cemetery in case all of this goes ass-up.

"Come," he says, offering me his hand and leading me back toward the stairs. "Serra's downstairs. She can help."

I balk at that. "I don't want to put her in harm's way. We shouldn't—"

"Believe me," Cas interrupts. "I'll never hear the end of it if I don't include her."

Beyond the brief words we exchanged after the debacle at Philippe's office, I haven't gotten the chance to get to know Serra, but I suppose I'll have to take Cas's word for it as we find her in the gallery.

The three of us find a spot to talk away from the crowd. Like Cas, Serra's in immediately, though she looks around our little group with one brow arched.

"We're going to need to change," she says, pointing out the obvious.

That sends us on a race against the clock, piling into Serra's car where it's parked a few blocks away and making the short drive back to Casimir's house. Once we're there, I find something for Serra to wear and she ducks into the bathroom to change while Cas and I head upstairs, feeling every second sliding away.

I shimmy out of my dress and reach for the pair of black athletic pants and black pullover hoodie I've got tucked into one of his drawers.

I try not to think too hard about that—the fact that I've got clothes tucked into his drawers because it made more sense than leaving them in my van.

There's no time to think about it, not now. Not when, depending on how the next few hours go, this case might be coming to its end, and Cas and I might finally be forced to talk about all the unspoken questions we've been dancing around for weeks.

As I slide the skin-tight pants up over my hips, I turn to find him watching me with half his shirt unbuttoned and a look on his face caught somewhere between hunger and tenderness and regret.

"You're putting that back on," he mutters. "Later. When all of this is over and we're home safe, you're going to put that damned dress back on just so I have the pleasure of taking it off you."

Despite the tension in the air and the seriousness of the situation, a pulse of warmth sparks in the bottom of my belly.

"Only if you do the same and let me peel you out of that tux."

"Deal."

We finish changing quickly and climb back into the car for the drive to the cemetery. Parking a couple of blocks away, the three of us make our way slowly through the shadowed streets, monitoring our surroundings and keeping a lookout for Devin or anyone from the campaign.

I shoot Audra a quick message with a pin to our location, and a couple of minutes later she materializes from the shadows, apparently also having got the memo to deck herself out in all black.

"Devin's got the wire on," she says, keeping her voice low as she peers through the trees around the cemetery's walled perimeter, trying to get a glimpse of him through the tombstones. "And Derham should be here any time now."

"What the hell does Devin think he's going to accomplish?" I ask, and Audra just shakes her head and lets out a frustrated breath.

"He wants to stick it to the man, I guess, and tell Derham where he can shove his bribe. And he's feeling all guilt-ridden and noble about getting more evidence we can use to expose the whole campaign. Kids, am I right?"

"We could put a stop to this," Cas suggests. "Devin might not be pleased about it, but a little light kidnapping never hurt anyone."

We all glance to where a slim male figure has stepped onto one of the graveyard's winding paths, standing just outside the glow from a wrought-iron lantern mounted on a pole beside the path.

"No," Audra says. "I want to back his play. The evidence he's already handed over is good. We've got messages, financials, but getting this recording would be the final nail in the bastard's coffin."

"A fitting location to obtain such evidence," Cas murmurs wryly, catching my eye over the top of Audra's head

He gives me a long, silent look, and I'm surprised to find I can read it immediately. A pulse check, a confirmation of whether I'm alright moving forward on this, an unspoken trust lingering in his gaze that tugs again on the tender spot that's been sitting under my ribs all evening.

I give him a nod of confirmation, and he returns it, a soft smile on his lips.

Serra returns a few seconds later from making a preliminary surveillance loop around the graveyard.

"We should split up," she says. "Two of us here, two of us on the other side to get another visual. Audra, you alright hanging with me?"

Audra nods slowly. "I… yeah, I guess I am. I'm not sure how much help I'm going to be if something goes wrong, though. My area of expertise is more with reporting the story than being a part of it, you know?"

"Understood," Serra says. "If it hits the fan, you split, yeah?"

Audra nods again, and the two of them take off, making their way further down the shadowed street to circle around the other side of the cemetery.

It leaves Cas and I alone, sticking to more of those shadows, eyes fixed on Devin as he pulls his phone from his back pocket and frowns at it.

"Think they're going to stand him up?" I whisper.

"Possibly. Though they might just be…"

He trails off, and I follow his gaze to where a black SUV has just pulled up on the adjacent street. I can't make out the plates or the driver from our obstructed view point, but four figures get out of the vehicle and make their way through the cemetery's gates. The first is Derham, followed by a younger man and woman who seem like they might be campaign aides of some kind as they barely look older than Devin, and the fourth is…

"Well, shit," I breathe. "I wasn't expecting that."

Mayor Haverstad rounds out the group as they descend on Devin.

I've got to give credit where credit is due. Devin doesn't flinch as the mayor and his cronies approach, and holds his ground as words are traded back and forth. We're too far away to make out most of them, but from the way Derham steps closer and put himself bodily in front of Devin, it's clear they're not having a friendly chat.

"Let's get closer," Cas says.

We stay low and tucked against the cemetery's outer stone wall, taking care to make sure we're still unseen as we enter through a side gate and keep to the shadows and tombstones well away from the path and the light of the lanterns.

Ahead of us, Haverstad rests a hand on Devin's shoulder and draws him a few steps away from the rest of the group. Whatever he says to the younger man must not land particularly well, because Devin gives his head an adamant shake.

My eyes dart back to the other three figures, just in time to see the young male aide turn slightly away and put a hand into his pocket. A moment later, something in his hand flashes in the moonlight.

"Fuck," Cas whispers.

"What?"

"Silver. The bullets he's about to put in that…"

He trails off, and we both watch as the man pulls a gun from his other pocket and loads the bullets inside before tucking it away again.

"Wait, that's actually a thing?"

Cas huffs a short, nearly silent laugh. "There are a few myths about vampires that unfortunately are indeed true."

"Why the hell would he bother? This is all a hoax, isn't it? It's not like they should be expecting any actual vampires to crash the party." Cas arches a brow, and I give him a soft elbow. "You know what I mean."

"I do," he says, then considers for a moment. "And I'm not certain why they'd bother, but I'd rather like to prevent that gun from going off anywhere near me."

"Agreed." I lean into him for a moment, and he melts right back into me. Another silent sign of trust, reassurance we're in this together and seeing it through to whatever end may come.

Suddenly, Devin lunges forward and gets up in Haverstad's face. Derham intervenes and shoves him away, the aide with the gun places his hand on the handle of the weapon, and the female aide falls back a few steps.

Smart girl. I'd be ready to fuck right off out of there, too.

"You won't get away with this," Devin shouts at Haverstad, and then it's the mayor's turn to get a swing in.

"Stop!" Derham yells, still playing interference as he steps in between the two of them before it turns into a brawl.

In all the chaos, a pause. It throws the graveyard back into a tense, waiting silence.

At least until, somewhere behind where Cas and I are peering over the top of a grave, a branch cracks like someone stepped on it.

With our dumb luck, it's probably a stray dog with a stick or a squirrel that tested its luck on a limb that didn't quite hold, but it draws the attention of the five people in the center of the graveyard.

"What the fuck?" Derham asks, rounding on Devin. "Did you tip someone off about this?"

Even from this distance, I can see the way the young man's face goes pale, and hear the stutter in his words.

"No. I—I didn't—it must just be—"

He makes a move like he's going to leave. Derham grabs for him, and Cas tenses beside me.

"That's it," Cas says. "We're not letting this kid get hurt."

He starts to stand, and the next few moments seem to slow down somehow, every single bit of shaky instinct I possess narrowing down to singular, pinprick focus.

Cas's movement draws the attention of the aide with the gun, and as he swings around and catches sight of Cas rising from behind the gravestone, he raises his weapon.

There's only one single thought in my mind as he does.

Silver bullets.

Silver bullets that have a very real chance of doing some very real damage to the vampire beside me.

I move without thinking.

Lunging for Cas, I slam into his broad frame half a heartbeat before the crack of gunfire echoes through the night.

Whether it's because I hit him harder than I thought I did, or he was too surprised to react and brace himself against my own far less superhuman strength, I'm not sure, but he goes sprawling on the ground, arms immediately banding around me. A loud crack of wood from somewhere behind us follows as the bullet lodges itself harmlessly in a tree.

It only takes a couple of seconds more for Cas to realize what just happened.

"Ophelia," he says, aghast. "What did you—"

Chaos erupts in the cemetery.

Apparently Audra isn't the only one Devin tipped off about this late night rendezvous, because as soon as the gun fires, two undercover agents—police, FBI, who the fuck knows—appear from the shadows with their own weapons drawn, shouting for everyone to freeze. They flash their badges and the aide drops his weapon.

From just up the block, red and blue flashing lights and sirens quickly approach the scene, and more agents or officers appear from the darkness and separate the group of four in the middle of the graveyard for questioning and detainment.

Cas and I don't move, still in a tangle together on the ground, far enough away that we haven't drawn notice. He strokes a hand up and down my arm even as he keeps his eyes fixed on the unfolding mayhem, a gentle, soothing touch that calms some of the adrenaline and fear coursing through my veins.

Cas could have been killed.

I mean, shit, I could have been killed, too, but somehow that hasn't really registered yet as I lean into Cas's touch.

He rests his forehead against mine, but before he can say anything, we're interrupted by a pair of approaching footsteps.

"Are you alright?"

Still a little bleary-eyed, I look up to meet a pair of concerned amber eyes.

"Fine," I tell Audra. "I'm fine."

She nods, then glances over at the ensuing chaos, the flashing police lights and gathering crowd.

"Audra," I say, drawing her attention back to me. "Fucking bury him."

A grin—sharp and satisfied—breaks across her face. "Oh, I fully intend to."

She dashes off to cover the scene, and it saps the last bit of adrenaline from me, knowing she's more than got it covered. Derham and Haverstad are dealt with, Audra's story will likely be breaking with the morning papers, and Cas and my part in all of it is done.

Like he can feel that energy waning, Cas squeezes my hand. He gets to his feet and helps me up after him.

"Enough. Enough for now. I'm taking you home." He turns to Serra. "You're alright?"

"Never better," she says with a crooked grin. "Though the next time you want to invite me to stake out a gun fight, maybe just… don't."

The three of us stick to the darkness as we make our exit, still out of sight of the police descending on the graveyard and definitely not in the mood to stick around and be roped into giving our statements.

Cas stays close to my side, arm around my shoulder, and I can't pretend for a moment that I don't like having his strength there, next to me. I let myself lean into his support, savor it, though that sense of comfort only lasts a couple of seconds.

Just as we step out of the graveyard and onto the sidewalk beyond, a figure materializes from the shadows.

"Casimir," Philippe says with a flint-edged smile. "Ophelia. What a lovely coincidence to run into you here."