Chapter 8
I ’d never clock-watched before. But knowing that I would be on duty tonight while Ezekiel went on a date with Ariella left me feeling on edge. I alternated between wanting the day to move faster and wanting time to slow down. As the hands of the clock crept toward five p.m., the knots in my belly tightened. Ordell and Hemlock were picking me up at six so we could drive across town to the Royal restaurant.
The rest of the team were going out for food and drinks to celebrate Holly’s twenty-fourth birthday.
“Are you sure you don’t want to meet us for a drink at the Fizz later?” Merry asked.
“Are you sure you want to go to an underground bar at night?” Edwin asked Merry.
Merry’s blood was more appealing than most to vampires, and although her status as an Order operative protected her to some degree, no one was guaranteed safety when it came to suckers. But I doubted they’d find any noble bloods or scavengers in the Fizz. From what Holly had told us, it was a hole-in-the-wall place that led underground and was filled with tulpas and other supernaturals.
“They don’t allow vamps,” Holly said. “I checked.”
“No vamps allowed?” Edwin looked skeptical. “This is Dracul territory.”
“They do it at Crush’s club,” Merry pointed out. “We’re going this weekend, right?”
“Totally,” Padma said. She seemed to be feeling more positive. Maybe the transfusions were doing more to help her than we thought. I certainly hoped so, because so far we’d found no way to cure her ailment.
Everyone was packing up to leave when the bell above the door rang, and we all froze and exchanged glances because no one came into the offices this late. Once the sun went down, people went to the Sangualex offices a few blocks away. Not that we had very many clients to start with. We’d spent the last few weeks working on cold cases and taking on the odd petty theft, disturbance, or domestic. That and the patrols for cold ones had taken up most of our time. But in honesty, it was quiet during the day. Which was a good thing. And yet the lack of crime put me on edge. I felt like we were in limbo waiting for something to happen. Waiting for the other shoe to drop. It was a strange feeling, and I couldn't quite put it into words, so I kept it to myself, not wanting to taint the positive vibe that permeated the office.
The bell in reception rang, and I followed Padma out, lukewarm coffee mug in hand.
A man stood at the counter. Tall, thin, with a shock of silver hair. His piercing blue eyes zeroed in on me immediately. “Miss Lighthart?” he said, his tone clipped and businesslike.
“Yeah, that’s me, and you are?”
“Charles Brentford from the Order headquarters. I believe you wish to speak to me.”
I’d forgotten that I’d asked the hunters to arrange a meeting for me—not with this guy specifically, but with somebody senior level. I hadn’t believed that the Order knew the truth about Loviator, that they’d be callous enough to put me in charge of nurturing a monster’s humanity. I’d needed confirmation from my superiors. But now I knew that Ordell and Hemlock had formed the Order, that they were the ones in charge. I believed them about it all.
We’d neglected to cancel this meeting, though, and now this guy was here, looking me up and down as if I was something stuck to the bottom of his shoe.
Beside me, Padma bristled, indignant on my behalf. I set my mug down on the counter. “Yes. I did. But that was weeks ago, and the circumstances have changed. I apologize that we neglected to cancel the meeting and that you’ve had a wasted journey.”
His mouth turned down. “The fact that you felt it within your rights to question the Order at all baffles me. I have better things to do than coming all the way to this…this cesspit of death and horror to soothe a lowly operative’s mind and convince them to do their job.”
His tone, his whole attitude, smacked of high-handed entitlement, and it put me immediately on the defensive, but I took a breath and reminded myself that this was a senior Order operative. He deserved my respect.
“Like I said, I'm very sorry for your inconvenience.”
“The only inconvenience is you, Miss Lighthart. Stop asking questions. Stop demanding answers. And get on with your job.”
“Don’t speak to her like that.” Hemlock filled the doorway, a sneer on his lips.
Charles turned to look at him. “Excuse me?”
Hemlock stepped aside to allow Ordell to enter the room.
“You’re excused,” Ordell said.
“This is Order business,” Charles snapped.
“Yes, we know,” Hemlock said. “We’re the ones who summoned you.”
“Ah, the Singer brothers.” His gaze slid my way before flicking back to the two of them.
“She knows who we are,” Ordell said. “So do the others here.”
His cheeks went red. “You told them all?”
Ordell and Hemlock exchanged glances, but it was Hemlock who spoke. “That is how it works.”
“I told them.” I crossed my arms. “It was a condition of my working with the guys to help Ezekiel, but I’m no longer needed.”
“Indeed,” he said. “And I can relocate you at any time, so?—”
“Enough!” Ordell boomed. “She’s not going anywhere.”
“You don’t get to make that call,” Charles said. “The white wings do.”
“And are you a white wing?” Hemlock asked.
“No, but I?—”
“Then piss off.”
“You have no authority here,” Ordell said. “And once I’m done speaking to the electorate, you’ll have no job either.”
Charles paled. “Now wait a?—”
“Why are you still here?” Hemlock asked.
The guys stepped away from the door, an invitation for Charles to evacuate.
“Well,” Charles said. “I’ll take my leave. Good day.” He clipped out of the room.
“Wanker,” Edwin said from the office door.
“Who crawled up his ass and died?” Holly added.
“His shoes were so shiny,” Merry pointed out. “Obsessively so.”
“You okay?” Padma asked me.
Did I have hearts in my eyes for the hunters right now? Yes, yes, I did. I blinked to dispel them and ducked my head. “I’m good. Go, I’ll lock up.”
The team grabbed their stuff and left, raining goodbyes on their way out, and then I was alone with the men who’d defended me.
No. Do not look at them with hearts.
“You ready to go eat?” Ordell said.
“We’re on duty,” Hemlock reminded him.
“At a restaurant,” Ordell said. “No reason why we can’t eat while we watch Ezekiel’s back.”
I grabbed my sword and jacket. “I fancy a steak. Medium rare.”
Ordell made an appreciative sound close on my heels as I slipped through the door.
“I’m in the mood for pasta,” Hemlock said, his tone grudging as if sharing his preference hadn’t been part of his grand plan.
Dinner duty at the Royal suddenly didn’t seem so bad.