by Kim Liggett
“Really? Well, if you’re sure it’s okay.” She squeezed my shoulder before skipping back to my room to get changed.
As soon as she disappeared, I jumped up to toss the rest of the food and spotted the missing section of the newspaper wadded up in the trash can.
“That’s odd,” I whispered.
Beth was a recycling tyrant. I dug it up, smoothing it out on the cold marble countertop. Page Six—a rare two-page spread on Dane Coronado, heir to the Arcanum Corporation. BILLIONAIRE PLAYBOY TO ATTEND THE NEW YORK PUBLIC LIBRARY PATRONS BALL. WHO WILL BE HIS LUCKY DATE—OR DATES? Beneath was a photo of Dane surrounded by gorgeous models at the Cannes Film Festival. A blistering heat rose from the pit of my stomach, shooting through every cell in my body.
Beth skipped back into the room.
Crumpling up the paper, I jabbed it down into goopy eggshells and yogurt so I wouldn’t be tempted to dig it out again. Nothing good could come of me thinking about Dane or Coronado or whatever the hell he was.
“I’m ready.” Beth twirled around in a sundress dotted with tiny daisies.
“No way.” I shook my head. “You’re not wearing that.”
“I thought I looked nice.”
“You do, but that’s not something you wear when you’re alone . . . on the subway. Trust me. You don’t want that kind of attention.” I grabbed her hand, leading her into Rhys’s room. Snatching an ugly plaid button-down shirt from his closet, I tossed it to her. “Put this on.”
“You want me to wear Rhys’s shirt?”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t even think—”
“No, it’s not that. I love being near Rhys and his things, but it’s pretty warm outside.”
“Exactly. You don’t want to get sunburned.”
Beth grinned and wagged her finger at me. “You’re such a smarty.” As I led her to the elevator, she said, “Oh, and don’t forget about your meeting with Mr. Timmons.”
I bristled at the thought. Alexander Timmons, Esq. All those years I thought he was just my mom’s lawyer—turns out, not only was he brokering the gold ingots for her, generating fake papers, and laundering our money, he was also my mother’s secret boyfriend and madly in love with her.
Looking back, it seemed odd that he was around for all our birthdays, holidays. We just thought my mother was his favorite client. And then some. After I came back from Quivira, I started going through her things and found a box of love letters. Things I will never be able to unsee. I couldn’t believe she hid that from us. But then again—she was also hiding the fact that we had blood ties to an immortal.
“Just try to be nice to him this time,” Beth said as she got in the elevator. “He’s trying to help.”
“With what we’re paying him, I don’t really have to be nice.”
“Ash.” She gave me a look.
“Fine. I’ll try. But it’s still . . . weird.”
“Weird is good, right?” she said as she waved.
I pasted on a smile for Beth’s benefit and stood there waving back like an idiot until the doors finally came to a close.
Letting out a burst of pent-up air, I allowed my shoulders to fall into their familiar slouch.
I decided to tidy up a bit, but who was I kidding? It was only an excuse to open the garbage can again. In one year, Coronado had managed to stage his own death and present Dane as his long-lost nephew, his heir, so he could take his place in the Arcanum Corporation and start anew.
Dane had caused quite a sensation in the media. When you’re that good-looking, single, and a billionaire, I guess it kind of goes with the territory. Coronado was probably just showing off his new body. It’d been a long time since he’d been able to operate out in the open, but he was certainly playing it up. Magazine covers, photo ops. I knew it was Coronado running the show, pulling the strings, but there were times when I swore I could still feel Dane. When Katia was inside of me, even for that brief moment, all I felt was darkness. Peering down at the only bit of exposed newspaper, I focused on Dane’s hand.
When I closed my eyes, I could feel his touch. I could feel his thumb dragging across my hip bone. An unexpected warmth rushed over my skin.
I took my foot off the lever, making the can snap shut.
“Don’t be pathetic, Ash.”
3
BY THE TIME Timmons arrived, I’d been stewing for hours.
I almost felt bad for the shit storm he was about to walk into.
Almost.
Timmons stepped out of the elevator, reeking of Ivy League—khakis, loafers, starched dress shirt, preppy tie with a blue blazer. He looked like he should be headed for a polo match, not brokering gold for the underworld. God only knows what landed him in this kind of work, but he was connected. Fake papers for Beth in under twenty-four hours, restraining orders in place, ready to file against Dane Coronado if he started harassing me, but it never came to that. It never came to anything.
It made me wonder if Quivira ever even happened. If Dane ever happened.
Seeing his photo like that this morning took me by surprise; it was like getting sucker punched, but it went deeper than that. I could cut myself off from the world, but in a single breath, a fraction of a second, I’d think of his hands, his gaze on my skin, and a traitorous warmth would bloom in my chest, as if I were seeing him for the first time. And now he was coming to New York City. In the past year, he’d made no attempt to contact me. Fired no warning shot. All of Coronado’s talk about forever, how he’d always know where to find me. Was that just some bullshit line? Wouldn’t put it past either one of them. Because here he was in my hometown, like it was nothing. Like I was nothing.
Timmons let out a measured sigh as he stared down at the stack of fresh ingots.
I didn’t know what my mother told him about all that, but he probably thought she was some sexy international thief and I’d taken over the trade. Not an immortal freak making tons of gold so I could have the resources to find my twin, who carried pure death in his blood. That part he didn’t know.
“We’re going to have to slow down a bit,” Timmons said as he set his attaché on the table. “There’s only so much known gold in the world, Ash. We’ve moved on to private collectors. It’s getting harder and harder to turn this into clean money.”
“So turn it into dirty money,” I said as I poured myself a cup of tea.
“That’s not how Nina—”
“My mother’s dead,” I snapped. “I’m in charge now. If you don’t like it, you can find another job.”
“This isn’t just a job to me.”
“Believe me, I know all about it.”
The slightest hint of a blush crept up over the collar of his shirt. “We should’ve told you. I’m sorry you had to find out that way, but I loved her. I promised Nina that I would always look out for you. No matter what.”
“Great,” I said as I looked away, trying not to get choked up. “Then you’ll do this for me.”
“You have plenty of money; why not slow down, stay safe?”
“I don’t know what kind of shape Rhys will be in when I find him,” I said, thinking about what his blood could do.
“Does this have something to do with Dane Coronado?”
“You tell me.” I met his eyes, trying to stare the truth out of him.
“I have information for you.” He took a seat, digging a folder out of his attaché.
“Finally,” I said as I took a sip of my tea. I wondered how long it was going to take him to tell me my enemy was in town. I snatched the folder off the table, bracing myself for Dane’s face to be staring back at me, but what I found shook me to my core.
A man splayed out on a Persian rug, blood seeping from his nose, his mouth . . . his pores. Just like Betsy, Tommy, and Henry at Quivira—the victims of my brother’s blood.
“You asked me to keep an eye o
n deaths of this nature, people bleeding out from unknown causes, but without wounds.”
“Where was this?” I managed to ask. “When did this happen?”
“Six days ago in Lisbon.”
“Is that Ambassador Wells?” I studied the photo. “I think I read about him in the paper, but they said he died of natural causes.”
“Since when do you believe everything you read?”
I shot him a look. “This has to be related to the Perry death from last month, and the Rhinebeck case before that.”
“Three prominent men. Old, wealthy families. Same manner of death. I’d say it’s a pretty big coincidence, wouldn’t you?”
My breath hitched in my throat. “Any sign of Rhys?”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “For the life of me, I can’t understand why you’d think Rhys would be connected to something like this. I’ve known Rhys since he was a child. He couldn’t hurt a fly.”
“Just answer the question.”
He swallowed hard as he rummaged through his papers. “No one even slightly resembling Rhys was seen entering or leaving the residences of any one of these people.” He leaned forward. “Don’t you think it’s time you fill me in on whatever’s really going on?”
Studying him carefully, I said, “That’s funny, I was about to ask you the same thing. Why don’t you open the trash can?”
“Okay.” He looked slightly amused at first, but as he stepped over to the stainless steel cylinder, I watched a bead of sweat trail down his temple.
Clearly, Timmons has had some scarier clients than me.
Standing as far away as possible, he pressed his foot on the pedal. Peeking inside, I watched the blood leach from his face. “Before you jump to conclusions, let me exp—”
“You knew,” I said as I refilled my cup, just to keep myself occupied so I wouldn’t wring his neck. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t want to upset you,” he said as he rolled up the sleeve of his dress shirt, cringing as he reached in through the layers of goop to retrieve it.
“I told you this man is a threat.”
“With all due respect,” he said as he carefully laid the soggy paper on the counter, “I’ve been watching his every move for the past year. Whatever happened between the two of you seems to be in the past,” Timmons said, eyeing the leggy models flanking Dane’s side in the photo.
I broke the cup in my hand, and blood began dripping to the floor.
He rushed toward me.
I tried to hide the wound, but my skin healed so fast it expelled the fine bone china from the fleshy part of my palm.
I expected Timmons to freak, but his face lit up as if he’d just discovered the last piece of an elaborate puzzle. He wiped the blood from my hand with his handkerchief. “So, it’s true. All of it. You were the vessel. Not your mother.”
“How do you know about that?” I exhaled shakily.
“Nina told me everything. But I had no idea. Is that why you’ve changed so much? Are you Katia?”
“No.” I yanked my hand away from him. “I’m nothing like Katia. My mother sacrificed herself to save me from Katia. Does that make you feel differently about me?” I said as I gathered the stray bits of china off the floor and dumped them in the trash. “It should.”
“No. Of course not,” he said. “That sounds like something she would do. She loved you and Rhys more than anything.”
The mere mention of the two of them in the same sentence brought an ache to my chest, like pressing down on broken ribs.
Timmons picked up a gold ingot, inspecting my signature mark. “You know, you can always sell your blood if you need another revenue stream.”
“What?”
“There are rumors. Along with medical research and pharmaceuticals, the Arcanum owns a very exclusive wellness-care line—supplements, serums, that kind of thing. Extremely expensive. But it’s done.”
“Wait . . . so Coronado’s been selling his blood?”
“Not just Coronado,” he said as he set down the gold bar. “The Arcanum is a collective. Dane Coronado is only the face of the company. Apparently, there’s a group of immortals who run things; they call themselves the council.”
“Hold up . . .” I braced myself against the table. “There are other immortals?” I knew there was at least one spiritual immortal out there, but I had no idea there was an entire consortium. If Katia achieved her immortality through alchemy; I guess it makes sense that there would be others. “Who are they?”
“That’s the billion-dollar question. I can put out some feelers, see if I can get any more information, names.”
“Please,” I whispered as I stared down at Dane’s face.
“I knew that Coronado was immortal,” Timmons said as he caught my gaze. “But is this boy—”
“Coronado’s vessel,” I replied. “His blood relative. But Dane wasn’t so lucky. He didn’t have anyone to save him.”
“And you loved him,” he said, his eyes misting over.
“It’s a little more complicated than that.”
“I was in love with your mother. I understand complicated. Try me.”
In that moment, I decided to tell Timmons everything, not because I thought he could help me; I just wanted him to understand how truly fucked I was.
“Well, let’s see . . . Dane lied to me, broke my heart, oh, and he led my entire bloodline—Larkin men, women, and children—into a field of bloodthirsty corn, to their deaths. And that was all before Coronado took over his body.”
“Bastard,” he managed to whisper.
“But he saved me, too. If it wasn’t for Dane, Coronado would’ve killed me on our first night in Quivira. And now, because of me, Dane’s a vessel—a living, breathing skin suit for Francisco Vásquez de Coronado’s soul.”
“I see,” he said with a knitted brow. “But I still don’t understand how this has anything to do with Rhys.”
“You know how my mom used to say without darkness there can be no light?”
“Of course.”
“Rhys and I are twins. The light and the dark. While my blood has the power to heal, Rhys’s has the power to kill. The people who had contact with even a drop of Rhys’s blood died exactly like that,” I said, my eyes drifting to the crime-scene photo.
“Okay.” He let out a gust of pent-up air as he sank down in the chair, loosening his tie, looking like he was about to pass out.
“I knew I shouldn’t have said anything,” I said as I went to get him a bottle of water.
“No . . . no, it’s not that,” he said as he took a deep swig. “It’s just . . . I didn’t know if this was relevant before, but now I’m not so sure.”
“What? What is it?”
With trembling hands, he removed a slip of paper from one of his folders.
“We’re not the only ones interested in these deaths. Another party has linked them together as well; they even requested the same surveillance footage. It took some doing, but I tracked the IP address to the Arcanum Corporation, which your friend Mr. Dane Coronado is a part of,” he said as he handed me the paper. “It could be a coincidence.”
I traced my finger over the IP address. “Believe me. There are no coincidences when it comes to this man.”
“I believe you,” he said as he squeezed my hand. “I’ll give you some time to think about it, how you want to proceed, but in the meantime, I’ll do some digging, see what I can come up with on the council.”
He kept his head down as he made his way to the elevator. I’d never seen Timmons speechless before, but I was grateful. I didn’t think I could stand listening to him try to tell me everything was going to be all right.
With Timmons gone, I went back to the kitchen, eyeing the newspaper, the photo of Dane. I remembered the last time I saw him, at the sacred circle in Quivira;
it was Dane’s body, but Coronado’s words. He said it was in both of our interests that Rhys be found. I didn’t understand what he meant at the time, but now that I knew the Arcanum were tracking the same mysterious deaths, they must’ve suspected my brother’s involvement as well. But what was Coronado’s interest in all of this?
Even though I knew Dane was gone, seeing him, in the flesh, was going to be hard; but if Coronado knew anything about my brother, I had to find out.
Maybe it was time to rattle some cages.
Starting with my own.
4
I SENT BETH an SOS message, asking her to meet me on the corner at six p.m., sharp. I knew she wouldn’t ask why. Beth was like a Labrador puppy; she’d go anywhere, anytime.
I started to get ready—like ready-ready, with mascara and everything—but stopped myself. “What the hell are you doing? It’s not a date.” I scrubbed off the makeup and took off the dress. Digging through the pile of clothes on my bed, I opted for a pair of black jeans and an old Pretenders T-shirt with a hoodie. Pulling my tangled mass of hair into a bun, I secured it with the black ribbon and headed for the elevator. I didn’t want to give myself even a fraction of a second to change my mind, but when the doors opened, I froze.
I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d ventured outside.
That was one of the perks of living in New York City. You could get everything delivered. I didn’t even have to see the delivery guys; at my request the doorman sent it up on the elevator so I could pull it off, like some kind of feral animal. Sometimes I felt like a space traveler, living in a pod above a hostile planet, only I’m the one who felt hostile. I didn’t know what I was capable of. Sometimes the darkness felt as gentle as a whisper and other times it would flare up without warning, a dark and wild energy pulsing through my fingertips. I didn’t know if this is what it felt like to be immortal or if it was something else entirely. Unfortunately, Katia didn’t exactly leave me a guidebook for this shit.