Nightfall

by Douglas, Penelope

  I studied him, taking in the disheveled suit and hair. The attempt to look like he had his shit together, but I knew life was a loud house every day.

  But he looked just as young as he did in high school.

  The happiness of the kids and wife, and the home and love, was written all over his face.

  “Why did you want a daughter so badly?” I asked him.

  I kind of always figured it was because he wanted a Daddy’s girl, but he doesn’t fight her battles any more than he does the boys’.

  And it’s clear that, while he loves all his kids, he and Octavia are two sides of the same coin. She was the only one who got his black eyes and black hair, which was rumored to skip generations.

  “I don’t know,” he said, staring out the window. “Every time I thought of myself having my own family someday, there was always a little girl in the picture.”

  He paused, smiling at whatever was going on outside.

  “I mean, look at them,” he told me. “Banks, Winter, Em, Rika... Women are only vulnerable, because they’re the last to be taught to fight. I want to put a woman like them into the world.”

  I had no doubt she was going to be a handful, too. My kids were far more mellow, and I was thankful for it. Except Indie. She didn’t think before she leapt, and Em blamed me like I could control my genes.

  A horn honked outside, and Damon took one last drag, the last of the cigarette burning orange.

  “Micah and Rory…” he announced who’d just arrived and blew out the smoke.

  I rose. “Just waiting on Alex, then.” I headed for the door. “I’m going to go find my wife.”

  “The kitchen pantry has a nice little nook off to the right out of view,” he teased. “Pretty sure Dag was conceived there if you need some privacy.”

  I left, smiling to myself.

  Em liked the catacombs.

  • • •

  Ten of the kids piled into the luxury bus with three nannies, while Athos stayed behind with us, and Michael’s mother took Aaron for the night. She still owned the Crist house, but she was rarely ever there anymore, opting to take the baby back to the city to her apartment at Delcour, instead.

  All the other kids would be heading into the safety of Meridian City as well, away from the coast and the impending storm, to spend the night at Kai’s house for a massive sleepover with games, movies, and treats. Marina would be there with Lev and David, so I had no doubt our children would be safe and high on sugar in an hour.

  The sun had set two hours ago, and I watched the taillights of the bus disappear down the driveway and onto the highway as the Bell Tower in the distance chimed the hour. I smiled, thinking about how I loved that sound.

  After all the leaves fall in the next few weeks, we’ll be able to look through the trees and see the lantern Emmy installed when she renovated the tower years ago.

  The ever-present flame for Reverie Cross hanging in the belfry.

  The gate closed, the lamps hanging off the wrought iron beams flickering with firelight, and the leaves in the trees danced in the high winds. I straightened my tie, hearing the flames spit to my right and to my left.

  Pulling the cigarette that I’d swiped from Damon and Rika’s stash out of my breast pocket, I walked over to one of the fire bowls revolving around a small fountain of water underneath it and leaned in, lighting the cigarette.

  “You sure she’s ready?” Damon asked behind me.

  “She’s sitting in for the meeting,” Michael told him. “Nothing more.”

  Athos.

  Slowly, we all drifted back through the front door, closed and locked it behind us, and I took Emmy’s hand, feeling my old, high school necktie wrapped around her wrist like a bracelet as we all descended into the catacombs.

  She wore my necktie lots of ways over the years. It always made my heart skip a beat, thinking about how she’d saved it. How she’d stored it under the gazebo to survive forever, because part of her wouldn’t let go of me.

  I squeezed her hand. The rain hadn’t started yet, but the cathedral whined under the pressure of the wind, and I inhaled the earth and water the farther we descended under the ground, chills spreading up my arms.

  Silence charged the air, the uncertainty and concerns over the past month all coming down to tonight. We would be celebrating later, but first…some business.

  “If you’d rather sit this out…” Michael leaned into Micah as we veered into the great hall, everyone taking their seats, side by side, at the long table.

  But I interjected. “He’s fine,” I assured Michael.

  I gave Micah’s shoulder a squeeze, feeling his tight muscles underneath. He was nervous, and he shouldn’t be. Micah and Rory were a part of this family. He wasn’t alone, and he wouldn’t hide. He’d sit on this side of the table with pride.

  Michael took his seat in the center, his suit, shirt, and tie entirely black like Damon’s, while Kai and I opted for a little color in our attire. Rika took her place next to Michael, a fancy, red strapless top paired with tight, black pants and sneakers on the bottom. Normally, the women dressed way up for conclave, but there might be running tonight.

  Athos sat at her father’s other side, with Kai next to her and then Banks, followed by Aydin and Alex’s empty seats. They still weren’t here.

  I took my seat next to Rika, with Emmy next to me, then Damon and Winter and Micah and Rory.

  The cold scent of the rock walls and the glimmer of the chandelier on the long, wooden table always made me feel like we were those cool vampires in Underworld, but Emmy said it was more like we were the Volturi.

  “Where are Alex and Aydin?” I whispered over to Michael.

  He shook his head. “Call them.”

  It was past seven. They were supposed to be here hours ago. They didn’t have any children, so it wasn’t that slowing them down.

  I took out my phone, about to call Aydin, but just then Alex charged in, rain drops dotting her bare back in her black top, with strands of her hair sticking to her face. She wore the necklace around her neck that all the women wore, featuring the same crest that matched our rings, as the ghost of a smile played across her lips.

  She sat down at the other end of the table, chin up and breathing shallow as Aydin strolled in behind her, a scratch on his cheek and an eyebrow cocked.

  “Where were you?” Banks whispered to her.

  She just shook her head as Aydin took his seat between her and Banks.

  “I had to fucking haul her off the speed boat because she wanted to go spy without you all.”

  “Alex,” Kai chided.

  But I just laughed under my breath. Owning her own investment firm, sitting on the boards of the two banks Kai’s father retired from, being a partner in the resort, a partner in Damon and Em’s design firm, helping with Winter’s humanitarian organization to feed hungry kids, and running around to campaign for Banks and Rika when needed, hadn’t dulled Palmer’s childlike drive to get into mischief. She was still a lost boy, ready to kill pirates.

  I was glad Aydin got to her, though. I didn’t want to have to chase her to that island tonight with the storm coming.

  We sat, staring off down the hallway and waiting for our guests to arrive.

  I leaned back in my chair, asking Micah on the other side of Emmy, “How long has it been since you’ve seen them?”

  He glanced at me. “I have five brothers and you were my best man. Does that answer your question?”

  Yeah. The Moreaus were loyal to their name, not to each other. Those weren’t his brothers. We were.

  The echo of a door slamming down the pitch-black corridor made us all still, and I faced forward again as everyone rose from their seats.

  “Don’t try to shake their hands, Michael,” Micah said in a low voice. “They have to earn our respect. Don’t make it easy.”

  “I know.”

  “And they’re not here to maintain the status quo,” Micah pointed out, giving Michael tips on dealing with
his family. “There’s been a changing of the guard. They’ll try to establish an identity outside of my father. Be ready.”

  “Already am.” Michael buttoned his suit jacket as what sounded like an army marching down the hall got closer and closer.

  “I almost wish we’d sent you home for your father to groom,” I grumbled to Micah. “I guess he had to pass on the business to the oldest, though.”

  We kept Micah and Rory, they happily moved between Emmy’s old house that they now owned, and Meridian City, but we knew his father was going to pass someday and we’d have to deal with his siblings.

  “My father wouldn’t pass on his business to someone just because they were the oldest,” Micah pointed out. “He’d pass it on to the one who could keep it.”

  A shiver suddenly ran down my spine, not liking the sound of that.

  The steady taps against the hardwood floor grew closer and closer, and I steeled my spine, seeing Damon’s man, Crane, lead our guests in.

  “Here they come,” Micah said.

  Crane drifted off to stand behind our table as Micah’s six siblings—five brothers and one sister—stepped into the room, immediately spreading out into a V.

  I shot a quick glance over at Athos, her breathing and posture steady for her eighteen years and for being in a room full of terrorists for the first time.

  Fuck.

  Emil Moreau led the pack, continuing forward to the single chair facing us, while the rest flanked him.

  He wasn’t the oldest. I’d studied the dossier extensively and knew each one by heart. Kaiser was born first. He stood farthest to the right, his dark hair thick and rising a couple of inches off his skull, while Valentin and Victor came next, followed by Hadrien, the second youngest son next to Micah, and then Eslem, the only girl off to the far left. They were all in order by age behind Emil, their hands clasped behind them like drones.

  Except for the daughter. Hers were in front of her.

  “Welcome,” Michael said, gesturing to the chair. “Please.”

  Emil took the seat, crossing one leg over the other, his russet hair parted on the right and slicked back, the hollows of his pale cheeks making him look elven. He cast his eyes to Micah, taking note of his youngest brother on the other side of the table. The tension in the air thickened.

  “I’ve heard a great deal about you.” Michael took his seat, and so did the rest of us. “You sculled for Oxford before competing in the Olympics.”

  “And finishing sixth,” Emil offered, his accent unplaceable.

  Their father was French and Syrian, but they were from a variety of mothers. Only Micah and Eslem were from the same Serbian girl.

  And I say girl, because she was sixteen when Micah was born. Eighteen when Eslem was born and died in childbirth.

  “But in the Olympics,” Michael pressed. “Your father must’ve been proud.”

  “He was.” Emil nodded, leaning back in the chair. “My father approved of failure. It meant only our best was ahead of us.”

  “I hope that still rings true,” Michael told him. “We’ve had pleasure doing business with him the past ten years.”

  Emil smiled tightly, and my stomach sank, knowing already it wasn’t going to be that easy.

  Micah owned part of the resort, but we all knew where the money came from. We justified it, because Stalinz Moreau didn’t run drugs and he didn’t run women. Over the years we got comfortable, because he had no interest in complicating the arrangement. He collected his twelve percent, his name was on nothing, and we got to keep Micah—and by extension, Rory—free and clear. Everyone won.

  “You tolerated my father for Micah’s sake,” Emil said, “and because he invested in you.”

  Michael inhaled, already breaking his poker face. “It’s…no secret we saw eye to eye on very little. But we were able to work together. Mutual cooperation was nothing but good for our businesses.”

  “Good, but not great,” Emil retorted, his voice eerily calm “My father was getting old. He thought he had enough money, and he lost sight of what we were building.

  “Which was?”

  “A legacy that survives,” Emil replied. “He should’ve stepped down ages ago.”

  Micah shifted in his seat, and I trailed my eyes over the faces of his siblings, Kaiser looking stern, Valentin staring at the floor, Victor gazing at Winter, cocking his head like she was a meal, and Hadrien and Eslem with their eyes unfocused, listening.

  “Your share has been fair,” Michael said. “Fair keeps us friends. Do you not like friends?”

  “We’re not like our father.”

  “Cooperative?”

  “Weak,” Emil fired back, not missing a beat. “Friends are unpredictable. Secrets, on the other hand, always have value, and your family is rich in those, aren’t they?”

  “As is yours,” Michael answered.

  Emil’s eyes flashed to Micah, disdain and a promise written in them.

  “We’ll increase your percentage to twenty-four percent,” Michael stated. “That keeps us friends.”

  “I think you’ve been mistaken.” Emil’s lips pursed in a smile. “We require half. Half keeps us polite.”

  I lifted my chin, trying to appear unshaken, but my eyes darted to the girl again, seeing her gaze on the top of the wooden table unfazed.

  I didn’t think she’d even blinked yet.

  “I know what your family is capable of,” Emil said, meeting each of our eyes. “But with all due respect, you knew the risks of playing with mine. You may be your little town’s waking nightmare, because here you make the rules, but the tactics change when you’re playing with others who have their own game. You good people do not have the fortitude to do what is necessary to hang on to what you have. And it will take a lot. To win.” He thinned his eyes, zoning in on Michael. “How far are you willing to go?”

  I shook my head, breaking into a chuckle.

  All eyes turned to me.

  “We’re not the only ones playing,” I told him. “We’re merely the faces of six families. Against one. What do you really want?”

  He had hired hands. We had a dynasty in the making. Was he really here to make enemies of us? We may not take out hits on people, but we had the stomach for this.

  But then his gaze turned, settling on the teenage blonde at Michael’s side.

  I stopped breathing for a moment, a cool sweat covering my forehead. Victor, Kaiser, Valentin, and Hadrien followed suit, mischief in their eyes as they stared at the pretty girl with two different-colored eyes and her hair in a wild braid.

  Eslem remained steady ahead, unchanging, though.

  I studied her. The chestnut hair in her own intricate style of braids pulled away from her face. The fitted black coat falling all the way past her knees, and the boots rising up her calves.

  She was the only one wearing gloves.

  Michael’s hard voice startled me. “You better look away from my child in 3…2….”

  Emil just laughed under his breath, dropping his gaze. “She could be the face of the seventh family,” he told Michael. “We like her.”

  We like her.

  He didn’t want half of the resort. He wanted something much more valuable. A stake for his family in ours forever.

  I looked at Eslem again, still staring at the table in front of me with a gleam in her twenty-year-old eyes.

  Poised. Calm. And completely aware.

  My lungs emptied, the pulse in my neck throbbing.

  She was the heir.

  She was the one in charge. Not Emil.

  “Send her to Deadlow Island tonight to celebrate with us,” Emil told Michael. “We’ll bring her back.”

  Michael rose, and we quickly jumped to our feet.

  He buttoned his jacket. “We celebrate Devil’s Night in Thunder Bay.”

  Deadlow Island wasn’t far off the coast, its lighthouse visible from here, but it was surrounded by a jagged coastline, and couldn’t be easily reached. Especially in the storm brewi
ng.

  No one had ever thought to build on it, given its inaccessibility, but somehow they had. Amongst the wild coastline and forest of the island laid a grand house that the Moreaus enjoyed seasonally when they weren’t sleeping upside down by their feet.

  Emil stood up, the six members of the Moreau family straightening. “I think you’ll be surprised where the tide takes you tonight, Mr. Fane,” he said.

  Then he dipped his chin in a small bow at Michael’s daughter, Valentin and Victor behind him with excitement in their eyes. “Athos,” he said, bidding farewell.

  Spinning around, one by one, they all left, the heels of their shoes descending the corridor toward the entrance from where they came.

  But Eslem stayed rooted in her spot, remaining in the room.

  I watched her watch Athos, the younger woman not shifting an inch under the scrutiny, and giving it back as good as she got.

  Who wanted Athos? All of them?

  Or just one of them?

  Eslem’s dark brown eyes gazed at her, her presence suddenly more imposing than her five brothers.

  “See you soon,” she whispered to Athos.

  Then she met Athos’s parents’ eyes before twisting on her heel and walking out of the room.

  No one breathed in the thirty seconds before we heard the door slam and bolt shut far at the end of the hallway and Crane returned to verify we were now alone.

  Michael spun around, ordering Crane. “I want her at Delcour, all the entrances locked, and get David and Lev back in town immediately.”

  “No!” Athos cried.

  “The safest place for her is with us,” Rika argued.

  “I agree with Michael,” Damon chimed in. “Get her out of town. Now.”

  “You think they’re going to care if it’s Devil’s Night or not?” Banks pushed back her chair and walked around the table. “We can make her safe tonight, but there’s no stopping them coming back tomorrow or the next day.”

  “I’m not going into hiding,” Athos told her father, a tendril of hair hanging in her face. “I’m not some prize to protect. I’m probably a distraction, so they can keep you occupied worrying about me instead of protecting something they really want here.”

  “They wanted her at the island tonight,” Kai pointed out. “It’s her they want, and they’re going to tear apart this town coming after it. If we don’t go to Deadlow Island, they’ll bring the war to Thunder Bay.”