Chapter Thirty-One

The house was eerily silent when she snuck back into her room at the brownstone, and its warmth felt reassuringly safe. She closed the door quietly behind her and padded toward the bed, stripping out of her jacket as she went. She didn't know what alerted her, but when she looked up, Graves was seated in a chair in her room.

She gasped slightly. He wasn't supposed to be home yet. Nate would have told her. "Graves," she whispered. "What are you doing in here?"

He rose slowly to his feet, a menacing figure in every regard. She shivered at the force of his presence as he loomed over her. "You went out."

"Yes."

"You evaded the cameras."

"I thought you put them up as a challenge."

He took a step toward her, closing the gap easily. "Do you take everything as a challenge?"

She tilted her head up to look into his too-intense eyes. "Isn't that the fun of life?"

He breathed out sharply. "Surely you can understand why this was a bad idea."

"I'm not confined to the premises," she reminded him flippantly.

Graves's entire body tensed at her tone, and something seemed to shatter within him all at once. "You were still recovering," he growled low.

Concern was laced into his swirling eyes, and tension flexed in his jaw. And for the first time, she realized that maybe he wasn't upset with her... maybe he was worried about her.

Something in her eased at the gesture. She'd believed he was made of stone. Even when he had saved her life, she hadn't truly seen him unsettled.

"I'm okay," she assured him.

"You should not have gone without a clean bill of health."

"You're right," she conceded. Her body relaxed, her voice going with it. "I shouldn't have gone out. The Druids tracked me. They brought me to Lorcan at Equinox. We had dinner."

"What?" he asked in utter disbelief. "Tonight?"

"Yes, I've just returned."

"That goes expressly against the terms of our arrangement." He looked like a dragon ready to unfurl his wings and breathe fire. "Lorcan will pay for this."

Kierse stepped into his path. "I am safe and hale, as you can presently see. We just talked."

"You do not know Lorcan the way that I do. He does nothing without purpose. And if he brought you to Equinox, then he's encroaching. I can assume he recruited you?" he asked, going very still as he waited for her answer.

"Something like that." She looked up at him through her lashes, feeling the vulnerability in the moment. "I told him that I would tell you about what he did. I think he expects you to react."

"Are you suggesting that I am playing into his hands?"

Kierse held her own hands up. "I don't know. I just can't think of another reason he'd kidnap me and then set me loose if it wasn't to dangle me before you."

Graves's jaw tightened farther as if he saw the wisdom in her words. "What did he tell you?"

"Nothing really," she lied. He'd given her enough to chew on, but it wasn't really what Graves was asking, anyway. "He just wanted to know more about me. I think he was testing me more than divulging anything."

"He said nothing about our relationship?"

She shook her head. "No. I don't know what's between you two. He wouldn't tell me, and I hardly expect you to if he wouldn't," she said with a sigh.

Graves's gray eyes smoldered. He looked torn between two worlds in that moment. As if he were standing at the mouth of a canyon, wondering if he could jump to the other side but only seeing deep into the abyss. Finally, ever so slowly, he met her gaze. She could see shadows dancing in those dark irises. Shadows of his past and whatever had happened there.

"Many years ago, long before you were born, Lorcan and I were... family, of a sort," he said, his eyes drifting to the closed window as if he couldn't bear to speak the words while looking at her. She held her breath, unable to believe he was giving in even a little and frightened that he would spook like an alley cat if he remembered her existence. "We were an unlikely pair, but for a time, he was the other half of my coin, my brother in all but name. When tragedy struck, it fractured what was between us. He blamed me."

He was silent a moment, and Kierse thought that may be the end of his story.

"Perhaps his blame was placed correctly," he finally said. "But no amends were sufficient. They never could be. And thus, we have been enemies ever since."

The ache in his voice struck her plainly in the chest. She didn't want to feel for him, and yet she couldn't help but feel anything else. He told the story so succinctly and with such pain that it was clear that no matter how long ago the events had unfolded, they would always hurt him. Whatever the supposed tragedy was and even if Lorcan had in turn become his enemy with a score to settle, the beginning, when Lorcan had been his found family, would always remain. No one could hurt you like family.

"Graves," she whispered.

He came back to himself then, almost startled, as if he hadn't planned to tell her that much. "Let's go to the library. I found what I was looking for."

She wanted to go back to that moment of vulnerability, but it had passed. So, she just nodded and followed him out of her room and to the Holly Library. Anne was curled up on a cushion of the couch. Kierse took a seat across from her, and the fiery thing got up in offense before trotting over to another empty spot.

"I see how it is," she told Anne.

She thumbed through the book on the side table with half a mind as Graves poured himself a drink. She declined one for herself. And though she was trying to focus on the reading at hand, she couldn't seem to stop thinking about Anne Boleyn. The cat, of course.

It seemed uncharacteristic for him to have a cat. After all, cats chose people. Not the other way around.

She had met many an alley cat that loved her and just as many that hated her on sight. She'd befriended them and fed them when she could manage and watched Gen try to sneak a tabby past Colette.

So, why had Anne chosen Graves, of all people? Of all monsters?

Graves took his own seat beside her, breaking her from her thoughts.

"What are you reading?" she asked. She hadn't noticed that he'd been carrying a book all this time. A little green thing that he held out to her. She took it from him and looked at the cover, which had three spirals connected to a small triangle on the front.

"I thought you'd like it, actually. Did you finish the other?"

"I did."

"And what did you think?"

She brushed her thumb across her bottom lip contemplatively. "I like the story of the Oak and Holly King battles."

"Of course you do."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

Graves's face was a mask. "You couldn't like the tale of the High Priestesses and their healing arts."

She had read that one, too. She wrinkled her nose. "Please. Virgins who live on a separate island from men to help them control the weather for their vessels. No thanks."

Graves shrugged. "It was a different time. Tell me what you like about the Oak and Holly Kings."

She bit her lip and wondered what he wanted her to see in this story. She couldn't deny that there were seeds of it that rang true. Even if she couldn't put the pieces together. "Well, I like the idea that twice a year there's a battle for whether winter or summer will dominate. The Oak King is always trying to bring back the light, and the Holly King is always trying to bring back the dark. It's harmony. Could you imagine if it didn't work? If the Oak King lost at the winter solstice and we had darkness and winter forever? Or at least until they battled again?"

"You start with harmony and end with chaos," he said, amused. "I'm not sure I know anything else that perfectly sums you up."

"I've lived much of my life in chaos. I don't know that I'd know where to start with harmony. Why do you like the story?"

He tapped his fingers against the armrest. "It's about life. About something real."

She was aware of his gaze on her. "It's just mythology."

"Some would say so. Others would say that it's as true as any other religion. It only becomes mythology after it has fallen out of favor."

"That's one way of looking at it." The book was just as worn as the other she'd borrowed. He must have truly enjoyed it, considering he had such an enormous library yet had read this one book so much.

"Do we not still see the seasons turning year over year?"

"Yes, but we have science that explains that. The planets moving around the sun," she said, trailing off.

"And yet we have monsters and magic," he said, "that science still does not understand."

"True." She stared down at the little green book for a second longer, wondering about his connection with holly and the love of the story. "Holly is your symbol. It's in your library and threaded through your wards. Is it because of this story?"

His eyes went distant. "Holly is a symbol of eternal life because they stay green in the winter, and the berries are poisonous. I recognized myself in that."

Graves stood and retrieved some papers. He laid them out on the table, revealing several blueprints stacked haphazardly on top of one another, the corner of what looked like another invitation, and drawings of various computer components?

"What is all of this?"

"This is the business I've been working on. As soon as I had a wardbreaker, I set into motion all the plays I've been holding on to."

She nodded her approval. This was the sort of work she did alone or with Ethan's help. It was actually nice to have someone else who was competent to have so many of the pieces she required in one place.

"Tell me everything."

"Have you heard of the vampire King Louis?"

"The name sounds familiar," she admitted. "He runs the underground or something?"

"Indeed," Graves said. "It's a moniker after King Louis XIV of France, the Sun King, who was the longest reigning French monarch. The vampire King Louis was cast out after the Monster Treaty and has since risen up as the rightful king of the monster underworld. He runs the Men of Valor. He is not quiet about his distaste for what he considers to be monster suppression and believes he should rule this world. In fact, he was the Monster Treaty's most vocal dissenter. But a man... a vampire like that isn't going to stop because of a treaty."

"And he has the spear," she said.

"Yes. I believe his predecessor was in possession of it. When he was killed, an informant told me that it had transferred to King Louis."

"So, you haven't seen it yourself?"

"No," he admitted. "Not since I lost access to the underworld."

He pushed one of the hand-drawn pictures toward her. It revealed a vault door with a security system. She squinted at it to try to see if they'd gotten anything she could go off of. "This is where the spear is being kept. The wards will be easy, but you'll still have to break through the vault without raising an alarm."

"That's fine. I think I can break down something like this. It'd be more helpful if we got a make or model on it. Anything like that will help me get through it faster."

"I'll see what I can do. In the meantime," Graves said, handing her a picture. "This is King Louis."

The resolution was grainy. He was broad and large yet healthy. His hair was thick and dark, and his alabaster hands clasped a cane. He looked as if he was going for refined but in the end didn't quite make it there. His eyes were wild even in the poor quality. And there was a twist to his mouth as if life had been cruel to him and he intended to deal it back tenfold.

"He looks like there's something wrong with him." She knew at once that having this monster leading anyone was a bad idea.

"There is. Many, many things," Graves said solemnly.

"But he's not the reason you haven't been able to get to the spear. He's just a vampire. Vampires can't make wards, right? So what's the problem?"

Graves reached into his folder and passed her another image. When she reached for it, their hands brushed. Fire curled up her arm at the barest contact. She shuddered slightly and tried to hide it with a change in position and carefully looking down at the photo.

This one was of a gangly youth with wide, black-rimmed glasses. He had medium-brown skin with a thatch of curly brown hair and an overly eager expression.

"He is the problem," Graves said.

Kierse looked skeptical. "This guy?"

"That is Walter Rodriguez. A base warlock who is causing a lot of trouble."

"Wait. I thought you were the only warlock in the city."

"I never said that. Simply that we're territorial. I allow lesser warlocks to live within my boundaries as long as they know their place."

"‘Lesser'?"

"Yes, there are three levels of warlocks—base, apprentice, and master."

"And you are..." He stared straight through her. "Right. That's obvious." He had to be a master if he controlled who lived in his territory. She cleared her throat. "So, how is someone who is the lowest level causing trouble?"

"I met Walter several years ago. I approached him about training to be an apprentice. We worked together to attune his abilities. Some apprentices go on to become masters of their craft, like Imani. Others reveal that their promise was a flame in the night but will never grow, like Montrell. Walter's flame burned out magnificently."

Kierse soaked in all of the new information. She wanted to ask where that put her, but she didn't want to derail the conversation. "So, how is he a problem?"

"He held on to one of his powers—force fields—and became nigh untouchable. Any warlock can use warding. It's a base ability."

"Really? Even I could do it?"

Graves nodded. "Yes."

She buzzed with that new information. "Do all the wards look different? Will Walter's look different than yours?"

"What do you mean?" he asked, leaning forward with curiosity.

"All the wards have symbols in them. Yours is holly and Imani's is that bird?"

His expression was startled. "Yes, all magic is individual. And Imani's symbol is a sankofa," he explained. "It's a West African symbol that means ‘look to the past to build a better future.'"

"Would my symbol be the wren?"

His smile was sharp and knowing. "I guess we'll find out."

Kierse couldn't wait.

"But back to Walter," Graves said. "Wards are strengthened by imbuing them with your power. Thus, my wards would be stronger than Imani's, whose are stronger than Walter's. Except that Walter discovered how to push his force fields into wards in the way Imani can put her wishes into powder. And now I cannot break his wards."

"Unbreakable wards," she said. "No wonder you need me."

"Yes, I need a wardbreaker."

"How did he learn to make these wards?"

He shrugged one shoulder. "I still don't know. I didn't teach him. He must have figured it out on his own. He was a bit of a math genius and a tech guy when I first met him. He thought that he could program his magic like a computer."

"Smart." Kierse suddenly saw where this was heading. "He saw a way to be valuable, and he's working with King Louis."

"Protecting the Third Floor and, by extension, the spear."

"That makes sense."

"This is the plan, as I see it: You enter the Men of Valor's winter solstice party with access through this invitation. You escape the festivities, break into the vault, retrieve the spear, and escape. If it goes south, this is where your training comes in. You can fight your way out with the spear."

"That sounds simple enough."

"And about a thousand ways it could go wrong." His eyes moved back to all the paperwork on the table. "We have just over one week to acquire everything else that we need to pull it off."

A week. Fuck.

"That's close. What else do we need?"

Graves withdrew a small notebook from his suit pocket and began reading off of a list. "The easiest route to get you through the security system and wards into Third Floor—the invitation will get you into the party itself. The information on the vault so that you can break into it. A suitable ball gown. And an exit."

"Oh, my favorite," she crooned.

"Yes. The exit will be our most difficult element. I've not found a way in or out of Third Floor without passing through a checkpoint. That would not be ideal with you carrying the spear."

"Well, the best part, then—reconnaissance," she said with a grin. "When do we start?"

She didn't realize how close she had drawn to him as her excitement had mounted. Her shoulder was pressed tight against his. His heat melted into hers. She looked up into his eyes, wondering if he was about to break the tension and acknowledge whatever was happening here. Her stomach twisted, and she recognized it as yearning.

He opened his mouth as if he were going to say something about what had happened. But in that moment, a banging came from downstairs.

Kierse followed Graves out of the library and down the main set of stairs just as Edgar answered the door.

A booming British voice rang out. "Edgar, my old chap, just look at you!"

The breath went out of Graves as if he had been expecting the worst.

A figure strode inside. "There you are, Graves. What in the bloody hell have you gotten yourself into this time?"

Graves laughed at the man. "Hello, Kingston."

So this was the infamous Kingston.