Gritting my teeth, I whirled and caught Justin by the front of his leather jacket and spun.
It was unexpected enough that he didn’t brace until it was too late and he flew halfway across the floor to land awkwardly on the couch. “Stay,” I bit off.
He was already tensing to rise and I swore. “Justin, if you two give me even a second to think you’ll get stupid, I’m going to cut you both.”
It wasn’t Justin I should have worried about, though.
Abraham moved around me, his focus on Justin.
He went still at the feel of the blade pressing into his neck.
“Enough.” I had it clenched so hard, it hurt from the tension. “We need to sit down, sort this out, figure it out. It’s not going to happen if the two of you are speaking with your dicks and testosterone instead of your brains.” I nudged him a little farther with the blade. “And you’re letting hunger speak instead of common sense. Get it under control.”
“Sorry.”
It was nearly two hours later.
Abraham had listened—Justin had finally talked. I don’t know what made him listen and I don’t know that I cared. I only knew that I was tired, and I wasn’t even done.
Not by a long shot.
Maybe I couldn’t expect Damon to make nicey-nice, but I did have to tell him.
Once I did that, I could consider the idea of a long, hot bath.
At Damon’s.
I’d never been comfortable with the idea of soaking in a tub. It left me too vulnerable. Sitting in a tub, naked, nobody else in the house.
But at Damon’s…
Justin shifted next to me and I dragged my attention back to the present—and away from the tub in my dreams. “I know,” I said quietly. I looked over at him. “There’s no more hiding on this, Justin. You’re not rushing into this alone. You’re not pulling the Lone Ranger deal and getting yourself killed.”
“Well, to be fair, the Lone Ranger had a partner.”
I frowned. “If he was called the Lone Ranger, why did he have a partner?”
“It was a Native, named Tonto.”
I ran that through my head and then discarded it. Some things in human culture would never make sense. Among them the self-mutilation they called cosmetic surgery, the mad rush of sales they had on the day after Thanksgiving, and their strange fetish for romanticizing non-humans even as most of them would go out of their way to cross the road if they saw us walking down their side of the sidewalk.
Why write stories about things like The Vampire and the Virgin Vixen or The Shifter and The Siren then freak out if you actually see one sharing the same curb space?
Don’t ask me. People are just odd.
“Well, then you’re getting a new partner,” I told him. “The Lone Ranger and Kit.”
“Hi-ho, Silver,” Justin muttered. He skimmed a hand back over his dreads and then reached up, his hand closing into a fist as he bumped it against the glass. The magic in the wards recognized his touch—it should. He’d created it after all. “There’s something you need to know.”
“Really.”
He slid me a look at the deadpan tone.
“You think I don’t know when you’re keeping secrets by now?” Arms crossed over my chest, I glared at him. “I know you, man. I know when you’re keeping secrets and I know when you’re holding back. Right now, you’re holding back a secret the size of Mount Everest.”
“Well, it’s time to go climbing.” He tipped his head back. “I’ve got reason to believe there are NHs involved in whoever has been setting up these abductions, Kit. Good reason.”
Those words made my gut run cold.
I sucked in a breath and turned away from the window. Linking my fingers behind my neck, I focused on the floor. Before Abraham had left, Justin had made him give an oath: Whatever we learn on this job, whatever we do, you have to keep it to yourself. You willing to give a blood oath on it?
Blood oaths were serious business.
Abraham had agreed, albeit reluctantly. Apparently, he worked with some autonomy so more than likely it would cause him no problem, but the whole my bond is my blood shit is just messed up.
But I understood now.
It wasn’t the just the blood Justin had been looking for.
If Abraham was involved, he wouldn’t have been willing to agree to an oath, especially not a blood oath.
Plus, I doubted he’d hunt Justin down.
Justin was known for being a bulldog.
Grim knowledge ate at me like a cancer. “This goes deeper than Saul, then.”
“Much.”
The weight of that response was staggering, so heavy I felt like it would bow my shoulders under it and I wondered how Justin had managed to carry it so long. “Word about this will get out,” I said quietly. “Whoever is behind this will learn you’re involved and they’ll come after you.”
I looked at him as I spoke and saw the feral grin curling his lips. “Let them.”
The man was pissed.
I can’t say I blamed him.
I wasn’t happy either.
I slid my eyes to the trunk tucked under the weapons adorning my wall and thought maybe I’d start carrying a few of the more…subtle weapons. There was a ring. One subtle flick and it would send poison or a paralyzing agent through the veins of whomever I happened to touch.
“Why?” I asked quietly. “Why do you think this and who is involved?”
It was late. I was tired. But when Justin made me an offer I couldn’t refuse, well…I said yes.
“What happened to ‘me big tough witch, me handle Saul, silly girly?’”
From under the veil of his lashes, Justin’s vivid green eyes looked amused. “I’m pretty sure I said I am a big tough witch and I can handle Saul, silly girl.”
I flipped him off.
He flicked my finger.
“For the record, the main was…well, is…” He grimaced. “What we just discussed. NHs being involved and I don’t know how far it goes or who all is involved.” Mouth tight, Justin said, “You can’t discuss this with Damon, Kit. You can’t.”
“If you think Damon is involved—”
“I don’t.” His hand slashed through the air, an emphasis to his flat statement. Striding to me, he bent down until our gazes were level. “I’m doing the same thing you always do, Kit, so stop giving me shit. I’m following my gut and my gut says the fewer people who know, the better. No, I don’t think he’s involved—matter of fact, I know he’s not involved. The idea is laughable. But if he knows, he’ll start acting different. Your boy, Kit, is not subtle. He’ll start looking for things. He’ll say something to Chang and even though they are good and even though they can keep quiet, the people behind this aren’t good, they are artists. They’ve been doing this right under our noses for who knows how long.”
He paused, letting all of that sink in.
And I realized he was right.
Damon would give me time, maybe, if I asked. But not a lot.
I couldn’t blame him. Already, I felt guilty as hell knowing that I was going to stay quiet about this horrible, awful thing. And I knew it was the only way we could do it, if we wanted to catch those responsible and shut them down.
“You get it, don’t you?”
I looked up and met his eyes. He was closer than I’d realized and as I stood there, the green of his eyes darkened while his pupils spiked.
My heart lurched.
A strange realization hit me and I realized something crucial. Something vital.
Oh. Oh, no…
I went to back away.
Justin reached up and brushed the tips of his fingers through my hair. Panic seized me. It wasn’t that terrified panic. I knew he’d never hurt me and I knew he’d never cause me pain. This was that oh-shit-what-do-I-do panic.
Slowly, I reached up and caught his wrist, tugging. He twisted his hand until our fingers entwined.
“I miss you,” he murmured, his voice rough.
> “Justin…”
A harsh noise shuddered out of him. “Every day. Even when I was gone, I missed you and I kept telling myself I needed to come back, but it just didn’t seem like the right time and then I did come back and you were with him. The first time I saw you together, I was like…”
I backed away, fighting the urge to cover my ears.
And still Justin spoke. “…‘okay, this isn’t going to last,’ so I waited. I kept telling myself it wouldn’t last. But you stayed together.”
He sounded so confused and the pain in his voice hurt my heart.
Closing my eyes, I rubbed my hands down my face. “Justin, I’m not what you need,” I whispered.
“Don’t you think that’s more my call?” he asked.
I laughed, the sound brittle in the strange, waiting silence. “If I was what you needed, you never would have been able to leave as easily as you did,” I pointed out. “You needed me because you wanted to fix me, because I was weak and needy. When I stopped being that, you didn’t need me as much. Maybe you wanted me, but that’s not need.”
A look of hurt crossed his face, but I didn’t let myself soften. “Face it, Justin. You wanted to fix things—people. You wanted me because I was weak…because I needed you. Damon loves me because I’m strong.”
We didn’t ride together to find Saul.
Justin took his bike and I followed him, doing my damnedest not to think about that odd interlude in my office.
I couldn’t even remember the last time Justin and I had talked about anything that…personal.
We hadn’t been lovers in close to five years. Roughly a year after he’d joined Banner. We’d been very much in the off-phase for much of the past year or so and after one-near explosive fight, followed by absolutely explosive sex, we’d decided we needed a cooling-off period.
He’d left town a few weeks later on a case and when he’d come back, I’d been in a sort-of relationship with another freelancer—a mercenary. Justin hadn’t said anything about it when he ran into us at Drake’s. We’d shared a beer, the three of us, and then he’d left.
The next time I saw him, he’d been wrapped around a vampire with breasts almost larger than her head. Justin might have drowned in her cleavage if he hadn’t been careful. I hadn’t felt anything when I saw them together. Anything.
I tried to imagine how I’d feel if I saw Damon in that situation…
The molding on my steering wheel cracked.
Forcibly, I loosened my grip, uncurling my fingertips one by one.
Okay, so there was no question. What I felt for my friend was nothing compared to what I felt for my lover.
And there was no question—I wasn’t going to be able to tell Damon about Saul. I probably would have figured that out on my own, once I thought about it. Damon would start removing heads—with his hands—if he started digging around for information and people didn’t yield.
And there was nooooo way in hell people in this part of town would yield to a cat.
We’d left International a while back, taking a series of turns that had led us to East Eldritch. We were now in an area known as the Abyss. You could find a mix of heaven and hell and everything in between. There were shops—I guess we could call them that, if we wanted to be generous—that sold the not-entirely-legal brews of garden witches. On any given corner, I could find offshoots who’d decided they’d just give up trying to make a real living and sell drugs instead.
If a girl knew how to look, there were serious treasures to be found in the Abyss. Most of my good weapons came from here. I could see Charnal’s store—Charnal was one of those weird offshoots I couldn’t quite place. He wasn’t human, but he wasn’t a witch and I didn’t know what else he was or wasn’t. One thing I did know—he knew weapons and he knew them well.
If I’d been coming here to see Charnal, I would have been happy.
But I wasn’t.
So I was…tense.
People died in the Abyss.
Magic flowed in strange ways here, too—and there had been a time when somebody had died here…and hadn’t stayed dead. I’d been standing nearby, talking to Charnal when it happened. Talk about freaky.
A sexless gray-skinned creature had separated itself from the herd of onlookers, watching as the corpse tried to pick up the blade it had dropped only minutes earlier, as it had been run through by a bigger, stronger male. The dead thing’s hand hadn’t wanted to work. The gray thing had calmly led it back to where it had died, smeared its own blood across its brow and spoken to it.
It laid back down.
A moment later, it closed its eyes and was once more, still. Dead, truly, that time.
I still didn’t know what the grey thing was and I’d spent a decent amount of time researching it. We parked less than a hundred feet from where it had happened. I shivered, chilled at the memory of it.
If I never saw an animated corpse again, it would be too soon. Nothing as creepy as seeing a body moving when there was nothing inside to pilot the actions.
Justin joined me a few minutes later.
“Your friend Saul lives in the Abyss,” I said neutrally, still staring at the spot where the thing’s blood had pooled so thick and wet.
“He frequents these parts.” Justin craned his head, staring at the place where I stared so hard. He couldn’t see anything. The blood had long since been cleaned away or faded by the elements. But could he feel it—the bone-deep…longing?
“And where does he frequently frequent?”
Justin smiled and gestured to the bar just to the right.
Howlers.
“Wow.” I clicked my tongue. “That is original.”
“I’ll be sure to pass your compliments to the MacDonald.” He winked at me. “He’s part owner.”
With more than a little dismay, I eyed the old-school sign, done in neon, with a wolf hanging over the door and the name of the bar spelled out over its snarl. The e was going dim and the buzzing noise that accompanied it made me think of a swarm of gnats waiting to descend.
“I would have thought Dair could afford better.”
“Oh, he can. He just believes in spreading his dollars around.” He winked at me. “Last I heard he had invested in an upscale whorehouse, too.”
That didn’t surprise me. There was money to be made in flesh. “Does he really expect to make money here?”
“Oh, there’s plenty of money to be made here. They water down the liquor, and if you’re buying it here, you don’t care how cheap it is.” Justin shrugged again. “There’s also flesh-work going on in the backrooms. It’s not as fancy as it is elsewhere, but it’s still here. That’s where we’re gonna find Saul.”
“Ugh.” I fought the urge to shudder. I could already imagine how many showers I’d need to make myself feel clean once I walked through a place this dirty—especially if they were using it for sex work. I didn’t have anything against whoring as a trade. Not in general, at least, if the whore was cool with it and if she—or he—was treated well. But plenty were forced into it and plenty weren’t treated well. Also, dives like this were filthy. I could smell the blood and the sweat—and yes, now that we were close, the earthy, musky scent of sex, a fine film that clung to everything. Alcohol was a pungent kick that blended the whole miasma together.
Yeah. I was going to have to drown myself in the shower to get this stink out of my pores. Aside from alcohol, the scents were a trigger of things I worked too hard to forget. Blood, pain, fear…the desperate wish to escape it all in the only way I knew how.
Filthy pig…your mother should have strangled you with your cord.
Justin’s hand, hard and firm, came down on my shoulder, squeezing with near brutal strength. I let myself take that one moment before I stepped away. He always seemed to know. When I looked at him, I saw the knowledge in his eyes. “Let’s get this done,” I said softly. I wanted out of here already and we hadn’t even started.
As we walked inside, an air of despondency s
ettled around us. Below it was something that whispered of the damned, as though the people who came inside Howler’s knew that once they crossed that threshold, they might as well just settle down to die. The point of no return—it lay somewhere inside the Abyss. It might even be here.
Justin took the lead and I was happy to follow along behind him. A dozen eyes cut our way. Most of them skittered off as soon as they took our measure. There was no denying what we were and while I might not look terribly intimidating, the sword at my hip wasn’t there for show. Nobody with half a brain was going to dismiss Justin. He looked every inch of what he was—a warrior witch.
I saw one man straighten slightly, eying Justin for a long moment before he shifted his attention to me. His gaze lingered on the blade before skimming the rest of me, from my head down to my boots—some might think it odd that the boots would catch much attention, maybe, but people in our line of work don’t run around in a pair of beat-up tennis shoes. The boots on my feet told a story almost as detailed as a blade.
When he looked back at me, he lifted a chin in greeting and then did the same to Justin. As he turned back to his drink, I caught sight of the staff leaning against the bar.
“Chuck,” Justin murmured.
I glanced at him.
“His name’s Chuck…” Then he grinned. “Actually, it’s Charles Andrulis. He’s a mercenary. Human, believe it or not. Decent guy.” He ran his tongue across his teeth and then leaned in. “He’s got a thing for taking jobs nobody else will touch and he loves the underdog.”
“A human mercenary…in the Abyss.” I wanted to stare at him, the same way I’d first stared at the turreted towers of Cinderella’s castle. The same way I’d stare at any novelty.
I didn’t let myself.
“Come on.” Justin nudged me toward the far back. “Let’s go sit.”
My skin crawled at the idea of sitting in one of those booths, but I breathed an internal sigh of relief when Justin used a bit of his magic to cleanse the area. It cost him nothing and made me breathe easier. I’m not exactly a germophobe, but I’m pretty damn close. I stood at his side, facing over the bar as he placed a hand over the table. He’d done this a hundred, or probably a thousand times and it never ceased to amaze me how simple it was for him, to simply will the energy that came from everything around him into doing what he wished. Magic takes practice and control, but he’d turned it into an art.
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