“Interesting choice in apparel.”
“I just needed something to sleep in, back when I thought I’d still be sleeping.”
“How naïve of you.” I beamed at him and opened the door.
He grabbed his gun from the pile, tucked it into his waistband, and followed me out into the hall still dripping from his shower. On the way to my room, I could have sworn that I saw the Anubis lurking in the halls, staring at us as we passed—I excused it as a trick of light because I was ready to fall over. The day had drawn on too long and stretched into the next one. All I wanted to do was sleep.
After unlocking the door to my room, Nate and I laid down together. As always, I was the big spoon, my arms wrapping around his shoulders, and my leg splayed across his hips. As we lay there, I realized where Nate fit into everything. He was mine. It wasn’t a romantic or sexual thing—he was like a favorite stuffed animal, a pair of jeans that made my ass look spectacular, or a nice lamp. Something I owned, something that I’d fight for and maybe even die for because it was my possession. I didn’t feel anything for him other than that vague sense of ownership, but at least I could articulate it finally. Then again, it could have also been the sleep deprivation kicking in. I liked to imagine it was the latter, it made things far less complicated.
Eighteen
THE FOUR DEAD Executioners’ Sybils were rounded up, interrogated, and executed by The Anubis, before I could even zombie my way to the cafeteria for coffee. I had only a few hours of sleep, not enough but for some reason, I couldn’t stay in bed.
“You’re not going to believe what I found.” Davy’s voice made me jump. I either needed more sleep or more caffeine, because he should not have been able to get the drop on me.
“When did you have time to find anything?”
“I kicked Cis out after we finished. Business comes first, little lady.”
“Call me that again, and I’m going to head-butt you,” I said through teeth clenched in a wide happy smile.
“Point taken. But last night or rather this morning—I haven’t slept, my blood is essentially nothing but coffee at this point—I finished going through all the emails. Guess what I found?”
“Blackmail letters for each case?”
“No. The Sterlings never received one. Then there’s the little fact that all the emails have the same IP address in the header. I traced it, and it doesn’t lead to an IPX building. It leads to Sterling fucking Towers.”
There was that feeling again, twisting and gnawing in the pit of my stomach. I scrunched my nose as I grimaced recalling the story the Anubis told me the night before. The Sterlings had a history of clearing the decks of competition and using we Shadows to do it. Needless to say, the fact that I had been protecting the Sterling heir so far made me a little… let's say grumpy.
“Great. Thanks.”
“That’s all I get? I pretty much just solved your cases for you.”
“Thanks a lot?” I raised a brow and made my way to the commercial coffee machine. It was one of those that mixed powder and hot water into something that vaguely tasted like caffeinated, syrupy sweet, malted, milk-ish water. That being said, call it nostalgia, but the thought of their amaretto and cream still made my mouth water—in spite of that sickly gnawing sensation.
Davy stared at me agape as I sipped my piping hot coffee. He huffed and left without saying another word. Maybe I should have said more, patted him on the back, and thanked his overnight efforts. Sighing, I watched Cis move across the cafeteria grab a plate, and wait in a varied line ranging from pre-teens to forty-somethings. I should have been in that line, the smell of sausage and biscuits was making me drool like a mental patient.
Weighing the positives and negatives, I stared at the warming dishes heaped high with sausages, bacon, eggs, pancakes and biscuits. In the end, the negatives won out, and I left the cafeteria. I had things to do and bad guys to kill.
****
When I reached the abandoned police station, it was raining and so cold that I had opted to wear a zip up hoodie under my leather jacket, and a beanie pulled down over my ears. With my height, the outfit made me look like a truant teenager, even with my makeup. Staring up at the huge art deco building in disrepair brought back memories.
Standing in the cold November rain, I recalled Davy, Nate, Cis and myself running through the old marble halls. Hours after being declared an executioner, they took me to the roof and got me super drunk. It became a holiday tradition, one that would inevitably have to come to a close.
The building was still structurally sound, but the inside was a complete and total mess. There’d be no renovations unless whoever bought it from the city could come up with serious cash. It needed to be gutted. The odor once you entered attested to that, it was probably some amalgamation of mold, mildew, rotting plaster, and asbestos. The smell was overwhelming, I was thankful that autumn’s end was looming, in the summer months it was an especially ripe fragrance. Last Fourth of a July, Davy vomited in the stairwell from it, something that made it abundantly clear why he wasn’t an executioner.
Entering the building was easy enough, inside the rancid smell was as familiar as the graffiti on the walls. THE CU IS CONTROLLED BY LIZARD PEOPLE, FUCK THE CU, and other childish bullshit was spray painted in big, bold, yellow letters on the rotting moldy walls. It was Davy, Nate, and Cis’s idea, they said it was something to bond us. It seemed beyond stupid at the time and now after almost a decade it didn’t seem much better. There was a fifth person’s handwriting on the wall. Davy’s first executioner—the dead one. So essentially, I was replacement parts, and if I was capable of feeling something I might have felt bad about that. However, as it stood, I couldn’t give a shit less.
Footsteps other than my own echoed as I made my way through the dirty halls covered in stray papers and old manila folders. I drew my Glock 19 from its holster and walked the halls following the blue path on the tile which led to the holding cells.
When I saw the first figure pass at the end of the hall, I almost groaned. It was too dark and too empty, the moment I fired my first shot, the muzzle flash would give me away and then there was the problem of the sound of the gunshot in the cavernous hall. Even a suppressor would draw attention in the silent dark.
Sleeping at the Manor had thrown me off. I should have known better that to go to the abandoned police station without another means of pacification. I went through them all in my head as I carefully maneuvered the corridor. Tranquilizer gun. I slowly approached behind the guy in his dark colored coat. Taser. With a little jump, I wrapped my arm around the larger man’s neck, locking my hands as I placed pressure on his carotid artery and waited for nature to take its course. Syringes of M99. He went limp, and I lowered the body silently to the ground. A garrote. I checked the back of his neck and upon finding no tattoo felt relieved—the last thing I wanted to do was kill more Shadows. I know I had been tasked by the Camera Umbra to do it, but it still felt wrong. I guess the rule stuck.
Huddled into a ball in the corner of a cell was what looked like it could have passed for Logan Erikson—if it had a shave and a bath. Around his throat was a silver collar that had made the flesh red, raw, and angry, I winced when I noticed it. Lycanthropy made people supremely allergic to the shiny metal. Just from looking at Logan, I knew I was going to beat the shit out of Thorn the next time I saw him—and that was before the motherfuckers who rounded the corner started shooting at me. I waited out most of the gunshots, they were amateurs. I still didn’t get why the Cult was sending such pissant wannabe guards to protect the Sterlings’ insurance policy, or rather why they hadn’t upped the ante once they realized they were losing.
One of them got lucky, a bullet ricocheted and grazed my arm, cutting through the layers of both my hoodie and jacket—and putting me in an even fouler mood. I might need to have witnesses when I confront Thorn—lest I beat him to death. I did with four shots what they couldn’t do in two full clips. It only took two shots in each of their
faces as they pressed themselves against the wall instead of hiding behind it. There was that characteristic misting sound that rang out heavily in the dark.
“How many more of them are there?” I asked searching the pockets of the fallen.
“I… I d-dunno,” Logan stammered as he pulled the dirty wool blanket closer to him.
“Do you know where the key to the cell is?”
“I-I—”
“You dunno.” I finished for him, grumbling.
If not for the collar he could have shifted and broken down the cell wall. He was young enough that I doubted he could bend the cold rolled steel. An older werewolf could, but though he was born with his powers and gifted, I just couldn’t imagine him being able to—I guess I’m a little age-ist. “Scream if someone else shows up.” I walked around the corner in search of the key.
I figured it would be somewhere close if the geniuses hadn’t done something exceptionally stupid like leaving it in one of their cars. I honestly wouldn’t put it passed them. I might have been motivated to feel something like pity for them if they hadn’t fired first. It was automatic, I didn’t even think about them anymore really—the people I killed. They were just meat bags, usually somewhat douchy meat bags, who didn’t know when to shut their mouths or back down.
And I was right, because I’m always right. The key was in a windowed office that looked over the cells.
“How long have you been in here?” I asked returning to Logan who was standing now. He was taller than I thought, and frankly, I was glad he was able to stand. Carrying a man who weighed near than twice what I did looked comical as all hell, but hurt my back more the humor factor was worth. I mean, I could have dragged him, but that was a long way to even drag a body. With corpses, you didn’t have to worry about pesky things like brain damage. Something told me Mr. and Mrs. Erikson wouldn’t exactly be pleased if I knocked off a few IQ points from their darling little boy.
“I-I’m not sure,” he croaked, rubbing his red-rimmed eyes. He was as pale and as blue eyed as his father. “They… they gave me something.” He rubbed his temples. I could guess what it was. Paxim 882, a failed version of a cure for Lycanthropy, instead, it acted like a central nervous system depressant. Some described it as making them drunk, others said it seemed like all the bad parts of heroin without the addiction—or that warm oblivious feeling some found so appealing.
“It’ll be okay, I’m going to get out you out of here.” And then I’m going to kick Thorn’s ass. I knew why both Ester and he were drugged but the LaFaette girl wasn’t. Drugging a sidhe was difficult, their ability to manipulate the minds of humans meant that whole fool me once shame on you thing was thrown into overdrive—even some nulls couldn’t resist their sway. The girl had probably started out drugged. Though that made me question why she hadn’t just told them to take her home.
My mind was everywhere but in the task at hand as I helped the limping Erikson heir out of the building and into the freezing rain. The wound at my shoulder throbbed and pulsed with a life of its own, but that wasn’t what preoccupied me. I really hated the idea of being used.
Davy met me at the door to the Manor and helped take Logan to the infirmary. While there, I had a doctor suture and bandage my arm—yay more stitches. I was quickly starting to look like Frankenstein while naked with all of the black thread sticking up everywhere. After changing into another jacket and hoodie, I called Logan’s parents, letting them know that their son was safe and where they could pick him up. Then I grabbed another cup of coffee-milk-ish-water and headed out to do something I really didn’t want to—confront Thorn. It wasn’t that I was afraid of him, it was that I was afraid of what I’d do to him—especially giving my morning so far.
Nineteen
NOON FOUND ME pulling up outside of the safe house that was about to become not so safe. I parked in the garage and watched Thorn mill around the house for a while. I thought about how to confront him—he had to possess some knowledge of what his family was doing. I couldn’t come up with a situation in my mind where he knew nothing about what was going on. At the same time, I thought of him as sweet, clingy, obsessive-text-message sending Thorn. Was that an act?
When I entered the back door, I was greeted by the sight of Thorn shirtless doing sit-ups in front of the television. I was so proud of myself for not drooling over him. The dye was starting to grow out of his hair already, leaving a strip of some dark ashen color from where the hard part of undercut had once been. He paused on the ground, staring up at me with those rippling abdominals tensed. Something passed behind those liquid mercury eyes that said he was aware of my suspicions. The look he gave me seemed sad almost.
“I missed you,” he spoke, his voice just on this side of a whisper. Of course you did. It seemed like a break up. I had never really felt anything when being broken up with, and I didn’t feel anything as I stood in front of him. But the room had that air to it, that tension that made the other party seem uncomfortable and sad as I stared at them with a blank and empty expression.
“Thanks.” I leaned against the arm of the couch, careful not to sit back too far so I had an easy draw for my gun. I wasn’t certain I’d need it, but better safe than sorry.
“I’ve been thinking, and I just want to know why you won’t let me in.” Oh, dear god, not this again.
“Thorn…” I wet my lips and allowed my training to kick in. It wouldn’t be the first time I seduced someone to get something or somewhere. The honey pot was a well-known tactic that I had employed several times to get to gain access to a target.
“Rose, I—”
“I know.” I smiled at him and slipped down to sit beside him on the stained, sticky, brown carpet. “Maybe I was too harsh the other day. I’ve just…” I ran my fingers through my hair. “I’ve never really felt anything for anyone before. Maybe I’m afraid to try because I spend most of my time doing crazy dangerous stuff. It’s super rare for Executioners to live past thirty. I’ve been to the funerals and seen the boyfriends, girlfriends, wives, and husbands crying over the coffins of their loved ones. I’m essentially just about at my sell by date. I guess what I’m trying to say is that if you’re okay with that—and since I finished up my cases—I’d be willing to try.” Gag me. I studied his face carefully when I mentioned the cases. For a moment, his lips twitched and not into a smile.
“Does this mean I can go home now?”
“Mhm. The whole Cult of Isis thing was a distraction.” Your distraction, fuck-face. “Jonas was using them as a smokescreen. He was trying to extort money from the families. And with Jonas gone and everyone recovered, you can now go back to your fancy parties with gift bags, and six thousand dollar suits that make up that whole Lexington and Park lifestyle.”
“You’ll like it.”
“Oh?”
“Mhm, I’m sure my family will throw a party for my return, and everyone will want to meet the gorgeous woman who saved my life.” Sure they will.
“I’m not exactly Lexington and Park material. I don’t own many dresses, and fuck is kind of my favorite word.” I smirked.
“You seemed just fine at the fundraiser.”
“That was a role I was playing. Iris Evans didn’t curse. Iris Evans wore designer knock off dresses, and ate things like casein free, almond based, vegan cheese.”
“Well, when you go to parties you can be Rosaline Black instead of Rose. And just think of Rosaline as ladylike.” My, what a prince you are, Jackass. “And when at home, when you’re all mine, you can be yourself.” The laughter in my head almost drowned out his words. But I smiled because this was what I did, I played pretend to get in close, and then slipped a needle into my mark’s neck. I hadn’t made up my mind if Thorn would get the needle just yet, but I wanted to get inside of Sterling Tower to snoop.
I had it all figured out. I’d get close to Thorn and gain access to House Sterling’s files. There had to be evidence of what was going on somewhere. As for my safety, I was fairly sure that I cou
ld handle whatever they threw at me—and if I couldn’t I was certain The Order would avenge me. If not The Order, Nate would do it. Some might have called it hubris, but in reality, it was duty. The Camera Umbra had given me an order directly, and I intended to follow it. As an executioner, it was my purpose in life. Whereas I questioned the files before, a direct order was a different animal altogether.
When I smiled at Thorn, it was that practiced, polished, empty smile I had perfected while at the Manor. Seduction and manipulation was about the only thing I scored well in at the end—surprising I know. In my head, I did what he suggested, I created Rosaline, and it was her who’d deal with him from now on. I’d never thought of myself as my full name, so using it to assume an identity to get closer to him wasn’t a big deal. It was my job.
“I can take you home now if you like,” I offered, crossing my ankles.
He grinned at me, jumping up like an excited puppy. “Tonight, I’ll take you to dinner at Vue 72. You’ll love it. They have the best Wagyu tacos.” And so it begins.
I didn’t tell him I didn’t have any interest in going to Vue 72, I just smiled and nodded. It was a given that I’d end up doing things I didn’t particularly like. Also, that I’d have to go to the Warehouse and take a bunch of crap out of requisitions. I knew who Thorn was before I was forced to spend the last few weeks with him. I fought the frown that threatened, I had thongs in my future, and I was never the biggest fan of butt-floss, but Thorn was.
The next week of my life would be about appealing to him and keeping within the realm of believable. I’d be dancing on the knife’s edge, because he had done what so few had the option to, he’d glimpsed the real me. Admittedly, I was counting on his ego to do most of the logic leaps for me. To him my affection was a matter of time, the persistence of that exchange days ago affirmed his over confidence in his looks and charm. Hell, he’d almost convinced me that if I could have been swayed toward him, I would have fallen prey to it. So, we gathered his things, and I took him home, dropping him off out in front of his building.
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