Chapter 13

Agent Leomaris'sassistant fixed the tiny recording devices that mimicked buttons into the seams of our clothes. Although, mine didn't work so well during testing, and was discarded.

"Baron Reynard's device should be sufficient," Leomaris said, dismissing their helper, and facing us in the back of the blacked-out SSD operations van. It was all very technical. Zee would have loved it. He'd also have loved how Reynard had briefly had his shirt unbuttoned, revealing a slim but defined chest. He wasn't nearly as ripped as Zee, but he wasn't lacking either. Not that I was admiring his body. Because I wasn't. Maybe a little. For science.

Reynard shrugged his shirt back into place and rebuttoned it.

"They will take your phones, but that's to be expected," Leomaris explained in their slow, melodic drawl.

"That's okay. I don't have a phone."

Leomaris stalled, as though I'd said something alarming. "How eccentric."

"I've never gotten along with them," I explained, filling the awkward silence.

"I see. Well, you'll likely be searched for weapons. Once inside, visit as much of the facility as you can. We need footage of the goods, the operation, any laboratory equipment. Ideally, if you are able to get Agatha de La Cour to admit to illegal trading on the footage, then we will have all we need."

"And if it goes wrong, you'll charge in and rescue us." I beamed.

Leomaris sat back in the fold-out chair. "The operation is unofficial. This vehicle and those cameras are the limit of my available resources. Unfortunately, if it goes wrong, you are on your own."

"Oh." I glanced at Reynard.

Shrugging his jacket back over his shoulders, he said, "We have little choice."

That was true. We were at Agent Leomaris's mercy—a place I'd prefer not to be. But if I did this, Zee and I would have a get out of jail free card, and maybe even an SSD agent on our side. Which might be useful in the near future if things at the hotel got any more problematic.

"Alright, are you ready?" Leomaris asked.

"I believe so," Reynard answered.

I nodded, and after Leomaris opened the van's sliding door, we hopped down and headed toward Reynard's idling sedan. Leomaris had said the address we were heading to was only a fifteen minute drive away.

"A token, to help ease your nerves," Reynard said. He held out a small blue paper flower.

I plucked the delicate origami flower from his fingers. Of couse, it had been perfectly crafted, without a crease or fold out of place. "Victor, thank you. Whoever says vampires are heartless is wrong." Zee had said it.

We climbed into the back of his car, and Victor clicked his belt home. "It's not easy holding onto your heart after many lifetimes of hurt."

"You got that right." I caught Victor's side-eye and quickly looked down, jabbing my seatbelt into its socket. "I mean, you must be right, not that I'd know anything about that. Keeping hearts, I mean." Uh... "Not actual hearts. That would be weird." I glanced up to see if this was going as badly as I thought, and saw his eyes narrowed some more. "Erm, so." Time to change the subject. "Victor, I know you're very good at hiding your feelings, but are you alright?"

"Your concern is unnecessary." He straightened and stared ahead. "I will be fine, as is always the case."

I placed the little flower on the back shelf, where it was safe. "It's alright to feel. If you didn't you wouldn't be who you are, and I think who you are is special."

"You think that?" He looked over so fast, his hair swished over his shoulders. "Why?"

"I, well... oh, okay, you want me to explain why?"

"Yes. You hardly know me, Adam. You know nothing of my past, of the things I've done to arrive at this moment, with you. We met just a few weeks ago. Why do you feel I am deserving of your care and attention?"

"I sense it, I guess. I don't know. You know nothing of my past either, but here we are." There was something about Victor Reynard that spoke to all the parts of me that had made mistakes and carried regrets. We were alike, him and me, although we didn't look it or sound it. Inside, where it mattered, I understood him, and he maybe understood a little of me.

"I doubt we can compare atrocities, when I've had several centuries to collect regrets."

"You can assume that, and you'd be wrong." I held his gaze.

"Indeed," he relented. "I forget you are not what you appear to be. It is at rare times like these, you remind me."

I smiled and shifted in the seat, getting comfortable. "I've no idea what you mean, Mr. Reynard. I'm just your personal assistant out for a ride after a long, hard day at the office."

"Of course." A few seconds passed by with the San Francisco bay sparkling to our left before Reynard said, "I bought a print of a cat for my office wall."

"Oh good. That's nice."

"I thought so. And regarding my business, Princess Daisy is exerting pressure on my finances, attempting to extort me into surrendering you."

That wasn't so nice. Although, I wasn't surprised. I'd have been more surprised if the vampires had let us walk away with Reynard without trying to get him back. "Are they threatening you?"

"Her tactics alternate between threats and reward. She's currently insisting I give you up, and in exchange I'll be given a dukedom and take Spry's place in the royal household."

"Oh." He'd be a duke. "Duke Reynard." It did sound good.

His long lashes shuttered, and his lips hinted at a smile. "Of course, I'm not entertaining such demands, but vampires are used to getting their way... and we have endless patience. She will not give up. Her rewards and threats will become ever-more outrageous."

I sighed. "One problem at a time."

"I fear there is more happening behind the scenes that I no longer have access to." He sent his gaze out the window again.

"Such as?"

"Such as reopening the veil, Adam."

"What?!" I spluttered. "Do they know how?" If that happened, everything changed. More Lost Ones would pour through, now they'd mostly been accepted here. But they'd bring their wars, politics, and strife with them, and humans already had enough of their own crises without adding supernatural disasters to them all. And then there was me.

"I attempted to get some information out of the scribe, Pierce, but he was not forthcoming, now I'm an outcast."

"Lost Ones have been trying to reopen the veil since it slammed shut in '24. It's probably nothing." I hoped it was nothing.

"Indeed. Probably nothing."

But Reynard was obviously concerned. No wonder he was distracted and in emotional turmoil. He'd had his vampire family breathing down his neck this whole time too. "These last few weeks have been crazy, and our last not-date was a bit of a disaster. We should go dancing, you and me? To relax."

The smallest of smiles tugged at one corner of his mouth. "I'd enjoy that, Adam."

"After we fix this going-to-jail problem. And get Tom Collins back."

"Naturally."

A few more moments of silence rolled on by. We had to be close to our destination. I watched sleepy San Francisco turn into more run-down neighborhoods, and then into areas where the streetlights had stopped working, and areas we probably shouldn't linger in Reynard's fancy car.

"Adam, if I may broach the subject of your curse?"

"Nope."

"As you wish."

Well, that was easy. But I doubted he'd let it go for long.

"We have arrived," the driver announced, cruising the car through an open pair of rusted gates and onto a cracked asphalt parking lot that hadn't seen much traffic in the last ten years. I knew where we were. Pacific Fun Park. It had closed a few years ago when the Haunted House ride had caught fire. Mired in several legal battles, the owners had gone bust, and the park had never reopened. I knew about it because Gideon Cain had tried to purchase it at around the same time he'd been trying to buy the SOS Hotel.

We stepped from the car into a gusty San Francisco evening. The wind clanged a sign and rattled the metal fencing that looped around us.

"Remain nearby," Reynard advised his driver, then sent him on his way.

The car's red taillights blinked and vanished, leaving Reynard and me standing isolated in the shadows of a huge Pacific Fun Park sign made up of funky letters and a rusted clown face.

I was not getting warm and fuzzy feelings from the fun park.

"We're being observed," Reynard said, nodding toward the huge clown with its creepy fat-lipped grin.

Someone was back there. Agatha de La Cour's lookout, maybe.

"This is an odd place to sell beauty products from," I whispered.

"Or the perfect camouflage."

Two almost identical looking male fae with platinum-blond hair, emerged from a building with broken windows. In their matching blue and grey pant suits, they wouldn't have looked out of place on the Hollywood strip, which made their approach in this barren parking lot even more bizarre.

"I think I prefer vampires." At least I knew what to expect from them.

Reynard's lips ticked.

One of the twins said his name was Cohen. He grumbled at us to hand over our phones, and took Reynard's, to be returned later. Reynard introduced me as his assistant, and in we went.

The entrance to the park was as desolate and trash strewn as I'd expected, but as we ventured deeper into the grounds, there were clues that not everything was as it seemed. Graffiti-riddled doors had been locked with new handles and hinges, and a camera caught our passing. Reynard was right. Nobody would suspect the abandoned park housed a black market beauty-products operation.

We entered a building with a sign over the door that read, Under the Sea! and immediately began descending down a wide, spiraling ramp. Fairy lights had been strung above our heads, leading the way. A few dolphin models loomed into sight, slung from wire, then a huge orca, the sight of which ran icy fingers down my spine. Oh-kay.

The air began to warm. Air ducts hummed. Old displays documented the importance of seagrass. We passed several giant walls of glass, which I assumed had once been the tanks that contained gallons of water. Now they were just enormous, black voids.

Nope, not creepy at all.

After forever descending the spiral ramp, we entered a brightly lit room, that besides the life cycle of sea turtles painted on the walls, appeared to be a normal office.

The fae leaning against the desk was in no way normal, however. As beautiful as a peace lily—lithe, elegant, with a lean face, thin cheeks, a severe nose, all framed by thin, straight, dark hair—she wore a suit so purple, in a different light it would have been black, making her pale, near-translucent skin shimmer. She reminded me of a crow, and had the same sly intelligence in her eyes.

"Baron Reynard." She extended her hand. "My dear, you haven't aged a day."

Reynard collected her long, dainty fingers, and brought them to his lips. "Charmed to to be in your company, Lady de La Cour."

"Oh, Victor, you tease." She laughed, and a touch of color warmed her face. "No need to be so formal. How long has it been? Three years? You don't text, you never call. One might assume you no longer care about your oldest friend."

My mouth fell open. They were friends?

"And who's this little bundle of human doughiness?" Lady de La Cour continued, eyeing me.

"This is Adam, my assistant. Adam, please do meet Agatha, a dear old friend of mine." Reynard's silvery eyes shone, silently demanding I not make a fuss.

"Oh, Victor, now, now, let's not be so crass as to mention age." She tittered, and her laugh sounded like broken glass tinkling to the ground. "Adam, what a pleasure."

I took her cool, pale hand, as Reynard had done, and brushed a flutter of a kiss against the back of her fingers. My mind reeled. Reynard knew a syndicate crime boss. A boss who sold demon body parts to be turned into paste and made into exclusive beauty products.

And he hadn't said a word?

"Not Adam Vex, perchance?" Agatha asked.

"You know of Adam?" Reynard asked.

Was it bad if she recognized me? She had given the order to throw me in the freezer, but I'd never met her—unlike Reynard.

"Let's just say, his name is causing a few ripples in certain circles. Circles you haven't been present in, Victor. Sorry about the little freezer incident, dear. Just a miscommunication. You got out of that just fine, I see." She tittered and shrugged, as though trying to kill people was just another note in her diary, then planted all her laser-focused attention back on Reynard. "We've missed your dour if wise presence, Victor. Reynard Technologies has been keeping you busy, no?" Agatha turned on her heels and clipped toward a back door, and Reynard casually fell into step beside her.

The pair of them looked like surreal supermodels, while I stumbled along behind like an ugly duckling.

No wonder Reynard didn't want Zee here. This was more personal than the sly vampire had revealed.

At least it explained why Reynard had been invited into the workings of the syndicate's operation like an old friend. He was one.

"Victor, dear, let me show you our latest product line," Agatha was explaining. "Oh, how is that darling wife of yours?"

"Dead."

"Good. I never liked her. Stuck up bitch."

"Quite."

I hurried along, keeping an eye on Agatha's two silent fae twins, Cohen and his brother, who were tailing us. They didn't seem half as friendly as Agatha, and eyed me with that same crow-like inquisitiveness, as though waiting for me to die so they could rob the shinies off my corpse. Reynard was comfortable here, but I was not.

We entered a sophisticated production lab. Slick stainless-steel work surfaces gleamed, the contents of big bulbous jars bubbled, and Bunsen burners licked at the air. At the far wall, an array of marketing material proclaimed that FaeMade? defied human aging. Not tested on animals.

It didn't say anything in the fine print about being made from Lost Ones.

I spotted a large stack of crates—the same style of crates that had been in the freezer—and ambled toward them.

"Clearly, you don't need this, Victor, since you're as handsome as the day we met," Agatha continued. "But our newest brand of age-defying serum is flying off the shelves. Humans are obsessed with youthful looks. Can't blame them really. Is there anything as ugly as a vintage human?"

"Fabulous. And what's it made of?" Victor asked.

"Oh, this and that."

Sure enough, a few demon horns poked out from the slats in the side of the crates. There had to be several thousand in here. That was a lot of demons conned out of their body parts. Now, if Reynard would just hurry on over so his secret camera could film it, we'd have invaluable evidence.

"Are these uhm... demon horns?" I asked, turning to face the room and thumbing over my shoulder at the crates.

Agatha smiled. "All willingly traded, I assure you."

"If we're going to propel your brand of products into the spotlight, Agatha, I'll need to know your process." Victor headed toward me. "If it's somewhat unconventional, we can circumvent that with a few technical ingredient names. Humans rarely do their due diligence, and when they do, few care if the cream they're lathering on their faces has potent origins. So, please do be frank with me. As an old friend." He studied the crates, then his gaze caught mine, and an understanding passed between us.

This was horrific, and we were going to end it.

"Victor. Don't you trust me?"

"I find trust is worthless in business, Agatha."

Agatha glanced at me and sighed. "Why don't you give me something? As a show of respect, for old times' sake?

"Of course."

"Your assistant there. Adam Vex? Tell me..." Her perfectly pink glossy lips curved into a hungry smile. "What exactly is he?"