Interlude

"Lorcan is not going to like this," Cormac said as he strode up to his side.

"Fuck off," Declan spat.

Of course Lorcan wasn't going to be happy. They'd had one job, and here they were. Orla was down, Kierse had gotten away with both of her friends, and Graves hadn't even needed to stroll in and save the day.

"You're going to have to tell him."

Declan glared at Cormac. "Go find Orla and bring her back to the house."

"I shouldn't go with you?"

Declan stared at him. "Do I need to repeat myself?"

"No," Cormac said hastily. "No, I'll go find Orla."

Cormac went in search of the missing member of their team, and Declan ran a hand over his face, trying to figure out what the hell he was going to do. He hadn't worked his way up to Lorcan's second in command by making this kind of mistake. He was quick and efficient, qualities Lorcan admired in him. He got shit done.

Well, not tonight.

So, Declan walked until he reached an SUV that they'd abandoned earlier while stalking the girl. He hopped into the passenger seat and told the driver to move, and luckily he didn't ask questions about the others. He was smarter than that.

Declan was not looking forward to this meeting. If only Graves hadn't stuck his nose in where it didn't belong. Like always.

He remembered the first time he met Graves some twenty years ago. Declan had been fresh into the city from his small hometown in Ireland. Half of the people couldn't understand a word out of his mouth. He'd been working in the dregs of Lorcan's mob for about three months when the order came through. Lorcan had a special mission just for him.

He'd thought it was a reward for coming over and leaving everything behind. Maybe the bathrooms he'd cleaned looked exemplary. He'd had stars in his eyes, but he should have known better. They offered the worst jobs to the new recruits, and Declan was as green as they came.

Declan had taken an SUV much like the one he was in right now and driven it across the bridge and through the glittering city. It had been different back then. Brighter, more vibrant, with cars covering the streets. There had been less fear before the collapse, before the monsters came into the daylight. It had taken him a half hour to figure out where the hell to park. That problem was all but obsolete now.

With the box from Lorcan in hand, Declan had stridden right up to the bastard's door. Just a faint trickle of fear had licked through him. He'd heard from the others about Graves. They made him out to be the boogeyman. Declan had doubted it until the moment he met him.

Graves had a butler who had gone to get him, and when he'd appeared at the door, he'd looked like any other wealthy feck Declan had met. Except for the eyes and the fire. Something was off about him. Declan caught it on first sight.

The box was innocuous. He'd had no idea what was in it when he handed it over to Graves. But he'd smiled like he did and told him, "Lorcan sends his regards."

Graves had stiffened as he took the box. He'd popped open the top, and inside lay a bouquet of Irish wildflowers. They were the sort that bloomed in the fields behind his ma's cottage in yellows, purples, and dark blues. They made Declan think of home. He hadn't even known he was homesick until that moment.

But Graves had looked up at him, and something had flashed in his eyes. Death incarnate. He tossed the bouquet onto the floor, where the glass vase shattered and the flowers scattered across the entranceway. Then he came toward Declan.

Declan wished he could say that he'd been brave and held his ground against the boogeyman, but he'd known Graves meant to kill him. He had gone wild over a box of flowers. Declan had tucked his tail and run. Run as fast as his legs could take him. And he'd hated the bastard every day since. The flowers from Lorcan had been a threat, but for feck's sake, you didn't shoot the messenger.

Declan hopped out of the SUV when it reached their headquarters in Brooklyn and took the elevator up to Lorcan's office. At his entrance, a robin fluttered in a cage nearby.

"Well?" Lorcan asked. "Are they dead?"

"They got away."

Lorcan lifted his gaze from the paperwork on his desk. His blue eyes held menace. "What?"

"Hopped into a cab. We lost them in Dreadlords territory."

Lorcan pushed away from his desk and paced toward the window. "And Graves?"

"No sign of him."

"Hmm," Lorcan said, staring out at the Brooklyn streets beyond. "And you're certain that this was the same girl who walked out of his house?"

"Absolutely." Declan cleared his throat. "Her evading us should show her value to him. That's never happened before."

"Did she know of the agreement?"

"She didn't seem to know who you were at all," Declan admitted.

His mouth lifted into a curve. "Well, that will change, won't it?"

Declan feared that smile. "Do you want me to go after them?"

Lorcan held up his hand without looking at him. "You've done enough. I'll take it from here."

Declan knew a dismissal when he saw one. He hustled out of Lorcan's office, cursing Graves's name all over again. Bastard.