“Huh?”
“The Kiss of Death. As soon as Arkady gets back with it, promise me that you’ll neutralize its magic. The amulet is powerful, dangerous, and what my father wants.”
Either Miles was going behind Levi’s back with the angel feather, or His Lordship was on board. Either way, I was smart enough not to bring it up.
Was there any reason I shouldn’t do as he asked? I didn’t need the amulet to access the library and neither Rafael nor Avril had mentioned it having any other use.
I ducked out from under him, moving into the center of the room. Levi followed me.
“Okay,” I said. “I promise. We also have to come up with a viable strategy around your mom so she can’t be harmed and so Isaac doesn’t freeze her out of a single cent that she’s entitled to.”
“I’m working on it.” He truly had put aside his fears and accepted Nicola’s decision. Good man. Levi held out his hand. “Show me a photo of Adam.”
Fun as it would be to greet Nathan as the Ghost of Children Past, we opted to go with what Adam would look like today. I stared at my reflection in the mirror of the executive washroom, tracing the shape of my father’s face. Dad’s left eye that crinkled wonkily when he smiled, the three freckles along his right jaw, the slight bump in his nose: Levi had nailed it.
I gripped the sink, a lock of salt and pepper hair falling into my eyes. At least those were the same brown as mine. My breathing sped up and my hold grew tighter.
Levi pressed a hand to the small of my back. “Want me to undo it?”
I leaned back into his touch, but he’d moved away. “No,” I croaked and turned abruptly from the reflection. So long as I didn’t have to see myself, I’d be fine. “We better go.”
There were a lot of mirrors in the lobby of the Hotel Vancouver where this David Wise was registered, and my pulse jumped every time I saw my dad. As I’d suspected, Levi was well aware of the existence of Hexers, including the few players in his territory. He called David’s room on the hotel phone, pretending to be someone with common interests who’d heard he was in town.
David took the bait and agreed to meet him in the restaurant.
Levi and I sat separately at the bar, with my partner in crime watching the door as he nursed a beer. He’d changed his appearance—now middle-aged and South Asian, he was one of many businessmen dining here. He gave me the signal that David had arrived, and I approached his table. If I picked up the folded napkin, that would be Levi’s sign to illusion up some distraction to get me out of there
David sat ramrod straight, his white hair carefully combed, and his cane leaning up against the table. He wore a dark suit with cufflinks, giving off an overall air of quiet authority.
There was no connection, no sense of emotional familiarity. If this was my grandfather, shouldn’t I have felt something?
I wiped my hands on my pants, and stepped up to the table from behind the man, unsure of whether I hoped I was right about his identity. “Shalom, Abba,” I said.
David looked up and turned ashen. “Adam.”
I sat down across from him, glad that one of the few facts I knew about my father’s relationship with his parents was that he used the Hebrew terms for mother and father with them.
David, or rather, Nathan, broke into rapid French.
“English, please,” I said in my best approximation of my dad’s voice. Reasonable Facsimile Dad had actually come in handy for once.
A server approached us, but I sent him away politely, saying we needed a moment.
“I haven’t seen you in years and you bring me here under false pretenses?” he said.
I made myself comfortable. “I haven’t seen you in years and you sneak into town under an assumed name to blackmail my ex and my daughter?”
A muscle in his jaw ticked. “Your mother died. You disgraced her memory by not being there.”
I didn’t rise to the bait, sitting quietly to see how he’d fill the silence.
Nathan had saved up years of vitriol, which all came spewing out now. Everything from what a disappointment Adam was as a son, to his betrayal of everything he’d been raised to believe in by marrying that harlot, and how the only good thing Adam had done was leaving her.
All that sustained this man was hate. Was this how Dad was raised? Or had my grandfather only become twisted in the wake of his son cutting him off? Dad’s absence left a pretty big hole.
I tried to find something of my father in him but I couldn’t. Adam had been charm and a ready smile; this man was spite etched into every wrinkle.
“Enough.” I kept my voice low, cutting him off mid-sentence. “This blackmail campaign of yours ends now. You know exactly why I stayed away all those years. You and Eema. Force Talia to resign or expose my daughter and you’ll be sorry. All your colleagues will know every dirty little secret about Hexers and how entrenched you are in that movement. Where will your precious status be then when they find out you’re nothing more than a garden-variety fanatic?”
Nathan turned a splotchy purple. “Are you threatening me? Your father?” He rattled off something in French, then slammed a hand down on the table, making his water glass jump.
There was a crash and I did a double take, thinking he’d knocked it over, but the glass breaking had come from the bar.
The bartender mopped up a spilled drink on the bar top, carefully picking out the shards of glass, while the customer who’d knocked it over apologized.
Levi, still in disguise, had frozen on his stool gripping his pint glass, his attention on the entrance.
I followed his gaze and my heart stuttered.
Isaac Montefiore stood stock-still, staring at me—well, Adam—like he’d seen a ghost. A businessman at a table waved him over, but Isaac only had eyes for me.
How flattering.
Nathan glanced around with a curious expression.
I pushed my chair back and stood up, keeping Isaac locked in my gaze. A knife’s edge of anticipation and vicious glee uncoiled inside me.
“Adam,” my grandfather snapped. “Where are you going? We’re not done.”
I leaned forward so my face was close to his. “Yes, we are, but if you want to test me, then be my guest. You’ll lose everything.”
Uncertainty flickered through his eyes. “I’m your father,” he said plaintively.
“If you cared about that, you would have reached out when you learned of Ashira’s birth. But she didn’t have magic then and so she didn’t matter, did she?” My Adam voice shook. “She’s your blood. Your only granddaughter. How could you put your beliefs over her?”
Why should Nathan be any different from the rest of my family? Dad had initially left us because of his love of the con, and Talia had prioritized the party over me. I bit the inside of my cheek, welcoming the sharp bloom of pain to keep me steady.
“Do we understand each other?” I said.
He nodded shakily. “I’ll leave Talia alone, but my son is dead to me.”
More than he could imagine. However, those words freed me from grief’s hold. Blood didn’t make a person family. “Goodbye, Nathan.”
I strode toward Isaac. An earthquake couldn’t have thrown me off course. I stopped in front of him and clapped his shoulder. “Long time no see.”
Isaac flinched.
“Impossible,” he whispered. His hands bunched the hem of his fine cashmere sweater and a bead of sweat glistened at his temple.
I just smiled.
Isaac stumbled backward out of the restaurant.
Levi stood less than five feet away, but I couldn’t read the expression on his illusion’s face.
I clenched my fists. Levi had come to me, wanting to win my trust, knowing full well what it meant. He’d stated his intention and now it was time to walk the walk.
“You wanted me to trust you,” I said. “It’s me or him.” Pivoting sharply, I stalked out after Isaac. I’d know where Levi and I stood depending on whether or not he followed and maintained my A
dam disguise.
I caught up to my enemy in a quiet alcove with a sofa next to a large potted palm and sat down next to him. The illusion remained intact.
Something golden raced through my veins, heady and triumphant. I’d trusted Levi and he’d come through.
He’d chosen me.
I cocked Adam’s head up and gave Isaac my most charming smirk as I used my father’s voice. “Guess some horses are harder to put down than you thought. You didn’t even have the guts to shoot me yourself. That was sloppy.” I tsked him. “When you want the past to stay buried, don’t farm out the kill shot.”
Isaac rubbed his chest, shaking his head like he could physically ward me off.
All I had to do was sit here, wearing my dad’s face, and let Isaac panic himself into a heart attack. As a revenge fantasy, there was a beautiful symmetry to it.
It would also solve all of Nicola’s problems. And Levi would be free.
Isaac bent over, his breathing labored.
Sherlock Holmes had once said that the power of evil can take many forms. I could wipe out one of them right here, right now, without lifting a finger, but I’d promised Rafael a while ago that I wouldn’t hurt Isaac until we had the scrolls.
And I’d promised myself that when I took him down, my face would be the last thing he saw.
I patted Isaac’s arm, the sour odor of sweat undercutting his sandalwood cologne. “See you around.”
Levi was doing a poor job of skulking nearby. He’d passed this test, but could I trust him again on a Jezebel mission or would our trust crumble once more? What stories had Levi written about Isaac? That his father could be redeemed? That Levi could find closure for the scars of his past?
Whatever they were, he’d been willing to write me in as something other than the villain. And that, in my book, counted for a hell of a lot.
I gave him a buddy punch to the shoulder. “Welcome back to the Zone of Trust.”
Chapter 22
Miles and I met back at Rafael’s cell, and he handed over the familiar metal pouch with the strange symbols etched on it that held the angel feather. “Do not make me regret getting this for you, Cohen.”
The Head of House Security wore the doctored lead apron and a ridiculous tin foil hat guaranteed to protect him from the feather’s compulsion abilities.
My mouth watered at the thought of the magic inside, but I didn’t fall on it like a starving wolf. My pride was good for that much.
“You worry too much,” I said. “Unlock the cell.”
Miles opened the cage, which glowed with nulling magic, and Rafael stepped out, holding one of the bars like this might all be a trick. He towered over me and Miles, a solid wall of muscle.
Miles craned his neck up at Rafael and burst into flames.
“What if the tangled-up Nefesh magic interferes with mine and I can’t bring you back?” Rafael said.
“Then be gentle with my prone body when you go on your murderous rampage,” I said. “My health insurance is pretty good, but it’s not unbeatable.”
“This is no time for jokes,” Rafael said.
“On the contrary, dude.” I ran my finger over the symbols. “It’s exactly the time. Count of three, step over the white line and back into magic range.”
Miles double-checked that the door to the room was locked, his magic on full display.
“No pressure,” Rafael muttered, and made a small cut on his forearm with the dagger I’d given him, before dropping the weapon to the ground. The blood made a mocking smile against his skin.
I glanced at the door, unable to believe a certain other person wasn’t about to crash through it. “You didn’t tell Levi, did you?”
Miles took a deep, calming breath, like he was about to trim a particularly difficult bonsai. “I felt this would proceed more smoothly on a need-to-know basis.”
Smoothly? Miles was on fire, Rafael was about to go full Ba’al, and all of that paled next to the giant fluffy bomb I was about to release.
“I believe in you,” Rafael said.
“Back at you. Okay. One…” If he couldn’t hold it together to save me from the feather, or if his magic held mine at bay, I’d spend the rest of my shortened life in that void, offering myself up to be hollowed out one atom at a time. I forced myself to unscrew the cap on the metal pouch.
Rafael edged closer to the white line.
“Two.” I lifted the cap off. The scent of a hot sandstorm and dread swirled around me and a soft sigh escaped my lips. My entire body relaxed, yearning to accept it like a lover’s touch.
“Steady, Cohen,” Miles said, his flames crackling higher.
“Three,” I said in a breathy voice.
Rafael stepped over the line and staggered sideways, his body curving over as if he’d been punched in the gut. Large curved horns burst out of his skull, his face lost its humanity to become Ba’al’s doppelgänger, and his eyes morphed into vertical slits of hellish red.
I plunged my hand into the pouch and pulled out the feather, hooking a red silky ribbon of magic into it. The feather magic was mine for the taking. A sliver of my brain recognized it for the lie it was, but I didn’t care. It was cotton candy and the best summer day I’d ever had. All my anger and my hurt faded away, and the weight of the world was no longer on my shoulders. There was only me and this epic bliss.
I exhaled, crashing to my knees.
Rafael roared so hard he blew my hair back, his next few footsteps cracking the cement floor.
The room swirled around me, Miles’s and Rafael’s faces blurring out of focus, like Dorothy’s tornado had touched down, rendering this room ground zero of chaos. Still, all I wanted was to grab hold and ride it to my own personal Oz. Maybe I’d find the wizard.
I cackled, colors sharpening with a vicious edge that cut deep inside me.
Rafael grabbed me none-too-gently and plunged my fingers into his bloody gash. His eyes were wide with a wild desperation, a savage light flickering in and out of them.
With shaking fingers, I dropped the feather, plunging into all the refreshing magic my Attendant had to offer. Its cool rich flow was enough to keep me on task.
Barely.
Rafael fell to the floor, rolling me half on top of him, and gazed up dreamily. His phallus was the size and hardness of a crowbar, tenting his sweats.
Miles swore.
Magic danced out of my Attendant. It was a delicious appetizer but—I glanced at the feather—there was a banquet that was mine for the taking.
I could have both. Drain Rafael, heal him, and partake of the feather to my heart’s content. Wasn’t this exactly what we’d wanted to test? How far I could go?
I reached for the fluffy temptation and a ball of fire engulfed it. I snatched my hand back.
“Touch it again. I dare you,” Miles said.
Miles’s magic sizzled out on the feather with no damage done. He eased around me and slapped the feather back into the pouch, sealing it up.
I snarled at him and a wall of flame sprung up between us.
“Focus,” Miles said.
Rafael pressed my fingers deeper into the gash on his arm.
There was still so much magic inside of Rafael that I was starting to feel sick. Could I get magic poisoning? It was like being back at my first and only horrific frat party, chugging away and knowing I’d regret it.
I stuffed my nausea down and pulled harder, Rafael’s magic rushing into me in a smudgy blur.
His eyes rolled back and white foam flecked the corners of his mouth.
“Ash!” Miles extinguished his magic and pointed at Rafael. “His horns.” They were receding. It was working.
I amped up my efforts, gagging against the sheer amount of power I was ingesting. My intestines twisted like a pretzel, and I doubled over from the pain, sweat dripping off me.
Rafael convulsed. His body snapped up off the ground and slammed back down, sending concrete chips flying. One grazed my jaw, blood welling up hot and fast.
I blinked, seeing double. Did I continue? Would it be worse to stop? We were so close, I could feel it.
Rafael’s body rippled, gaining and losing size and muscle mass almost too fast to track. His features were warping between human and goat.
Panicked, I tried to stop, but there was some kind of vacuum effect happening and I couldn’t disengage.
He convulsed again, his fist clipping me in the eye. Stars danced in my vision, pain rolling through the side of my head.
I sucked the last of his magic out and felt his heart stop. “Miles!”
Miles started mouth-to-mouth.
Rolling onto my back, I swallowed hard against the metallic taste of bile, shaky and nauseous.
The door banged open so hard that it cracked into a spiderweb pattern. An operative holding a battering ram raced into the room, took one look at Miles and Rafael, and called for an ambulance.
Levi stormed in, taking in the entire scene with one cold glance. He stopped in front of me. “What. The. Fuck—”
I vomited all over his Italian loafers, cutting his tirade mercifully short.
They’d moved Rafael to the infirmary to be monitored because he wasn’t waking up. No one could explain it. Physically, he once more looked like his librarian self, his vitals were stable, and the Nefesh magic was out of his system. I’d checked and double checked until I was dizzy. His Asherah magic was down to a tiny flicker.
One of Miles’s operatives had been posted to stand guard.
I slumped in a chair by Rafael’s bed, watching him for the slightest change in his breathing, the tiniest flicker of a finger. Nothing.
Levi hadn’t come by.
I fiddled with the bandage on my jaw, debating whether or not to ask for another ice pack for my eye. His Lordship was probably chewing Miles out. He’d be by to yell at me soon.
Wouldn’t he?
How had Levi intended to finish his what the fuck question? What the fuck happened? What the fuck is wrong with Rafael? What the fuck did you ingest to turn your puke Pepto Bismol–pink?
Revenge & Rapture: A Snarky Urban Fantasy Detective Series (The Jezebel Files Book 4) Page 21