by A. J. Menden
“I’m fine,” I said, trying to ignore how unconvincing that sounded. “I just want to get back to work as usual.”
“Alright. Let’s go into the library then.” He stood and strode down the hall, me following with less enthusiasm.
“I’ve made a list. I think it’s a quirk, actually, list-making.” He walked over to Robert’s desk—his desk now—and picked up a creamy sheet of paper, handing it to me. I took it and stared at the perfect handwriting, completely legible, unlike Robert’s messy scrawl, which usually needed deciphering. I wondered if he had problems reading Robert’s diary entries, or if he could read the words because he had once written them.
“Was Robert a list-maker?”
“Um, not really. He was very organized, but he didn’t write everything down.”
He looked very disappointed. “Well, that’s the agenda for today. I’d like to get as much of it done as possible.”
I frowned. He’d said it in his stuffy tone, like he’d be doing the work, but of course I would be doing it unless his tolerance for secretarial duties had changed. I skimmed the notes.
Make appointment with tailor for fittings. Notify associates of Robert’s passing and funeral arrangements. Oh, God. I didn’t know if I could handle that, calling up people and telling them Robert was gone. I skipped ahead. Business associates to be notified of Wesley inheriting companies. The rest was mostly about planning aspects of the memorial service: caterers, music, that kind of thing.
I looked up at him. “I’ve never handled this type of situation before. I have no idea what kind of flowers to get or anything.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that. I’ll have Mayhew take care of the most of the memorial arrangements; you just take care of the other items on the list.”
Great. So it looked like the bulk of my day would be spent writing death letters and assisting Mayhew in preparing my late boyfriend’s memorial service. Although, if I could take comfort in any of this, and there wasn’t much to be taken, I did get to tell Victoria Dupree that she never needed to darken this door again.
“Can you add ‘buy more casual clothes for me’ to the list? I’ll write down my approximate size for you.” He leaned against the table and rubbed his head like he had a migraine. “I knew Shakespeare?”
“What?”
He waved me away. “Nothing. I still want to tailor some of the suits. It’s not that I mind dressing up on occasion, but every single day?”
Although I never understood Robert’s need for formality, it hurt that this new version was going to wipe away all traces of him. His manner of speech, his clothes, his feelings for me…
“Fine,” I said. “But we’re both young professionals, and I can’t respect a boss who runs around in designer T-shirts with pseudo-witty sayings written on them.”
He laughed. “Thanks, I needed a bit of humor.”
Mayhew entered the room. “Excuse me, sir, but Detective Pendergast is on the phone. He wants to speak to Mister Elliot about one of the detainees.”
Wesley looked at me. “Lainey’ll have to take care of it until I’m formally introduced. She’s the one who actually remembers what happened last night.”
In more ways than one. “It’s fine, Mayhew, I’ll take it in here.”
“Right away, Miss,” he said and disappeared. A few moments later, the phone on the desk rang.
I picked it up. “Detective Pendergast, this is Phenomenal Girl Five.”
“Ah, good morning. I don’t suppose I could convince you and your partner to come downtown? We interrogated a few of the villains rounded up last night, and something came out in one of the interviews I thought you should hear. The Feds picked up the criminals early this morning to take them to the Holding Tank”—this, I knew, was the prison for powered villains—“but I thought this was information of a sensitive nature that the Reincarnist should deal with himself.”
“I-I’ll come over right away,” I said, and hung up before he could say anything else. I couldn’t tell Pendergast of Robert’s death with Wesley sitting right there and listening in.
“Is everything alright?” he asked, flipping through a book.
“I don’t know. I’m going to check it out.”
“If you need any help, don’t hesitate to call. I’m a bit out of it, but still capable of lending a hand, even while not at my best.”
“It’s fine. I’ll let you know what happens.” I shut the door to the library behind me.
“Did you tell him?”
I shrieked. “Jesus, Mayhew! What are you doing lurking out here?” I cast a quick look back to make sure Wesley hadn’t heard me scream like a little girl.
“Did you tell him?”
“About what?” I continued down the hall, trying to brush the butler off.
He frowned. “About you and Robert.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Now he was glaring at me. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” I hoped I didn’t blush when I said it. I’ve never been a good liar.
“You already lied once when he asked you point-blank if you were lovers. I assumed you were just thrown by him changing, but I thought for sure you’d tell him the truth by now.”
I snatched up the keys to the Mustang. I was already exhausted by this ordeal, and the day had just begun. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Please give me a little credit,” he said dryly. “I know he loved you. I know you had deep feelings for him as well.”
“I loved him.”
Mayhew’s eyes were kind. “It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what happened next. Before he died, Robert wanted to write something in his diary. He didn’t get a chance. He wanted me to make sure he remembered you in the next life. That was the first thing I was supposed to ask him, if he remembered Lainey.”
“And he didn’t.”
“No, but he seemed to know where to go to find you.”
I gritted my teeth at the reminder. “Wesley doesn’t remember me and he doesn’t even like me. You heard him last night! I probably would have said something had he not asked if we were lovers with such complete and utter disgust.”
Mayhew’s features slumped in defeat. “Miss Lainey.”
“This new Reincarnist doesn’t need to know about what happened, Mayhew. That died along with Robert. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to go see the police.” I turned and walked out of the mansion before he could see me cry.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The noise and insanity at the police station was almost comforting. It was normal, everyday behavior, at a time when my life was turned upside down.
I gave my name to the officer at the desk, who called back to Pendergast. The nearby television was turned to a news conference, where none other than Simon Leasure was holding court over a bevy of reporters, letting them know how great a job he’d done and how he, single-handedly, had saved the day. God, had our date only been last night? It felt like a lifetime ago.
“Miss Livingston?” Pendergast walked up, looking around. “Where’s your partner?”
“Can we go somewhere private?”
He nodded. “This way.”
Pendergast looked worried as we sat in one of the interview rooms. “Has something happened?”
I nodded, looking down at my hands. “Robert was killed last night.”
His face turned white. “Oh, God. I’m so sorry, I hadn’t heard.”
I shook my head. “No one has. I don’t even think the EHJ knows.” I broke off, tears coming. “Damn, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” He handed me a tissue. “I know how hard it is, losing a partner. Mine was killed in the line of duty last year.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Me too. I’d heard the Reincarnist took down that Jihad character.”
“Yeah. One of the last
things he did.”
“One of the guys we had stored here last night was pretty irate about it. He’s the one I wanted to talk to you about.”
“Alright.”
Pendergast clicked on the computer and scrolled through some black and white images. “Here is the footage from him last night.”
The footage started and I saw a burly man with a military buzz cut slumped in a chair.
“State your name, please.” That was Pendergast.
“Talon.”
“Your real name, not your alias.”
“That is my real name. It was the name he gave me on the day I was reborn.”
“He?”
“My master. I joined with him, and I was baptized in fire and blood.” Talon’s smile was sinister. “Have you ever smelled human flesh burning?” He moved his arm and I gasped.
Pendergast eyed me. “What?”
“Go back. Now pause it.” He did, and I tapped the screen where Talon had flashed a glimpse of his wrist. “He has the same marking that Syn and Jihad had.”
Pendergast looked. “I can’t believe I missed that.”
“You weren’t looking for it.” Things were beginning to connect. “Go on.”
“You want to tell us what you all were doing to night?” Pendergast was asking on the recording.
Talon smiled. “Creating chaos, obviously. It’s not as easy as it looks. You need just the right amount. Go too far, and it spins out of your control.”
“I thought chaos was all about no control.”
“There are some who can harness it.”
“What were you using it for?”
“Something that is beyond your fragile human mind.”
“Try me.”
“It was just a component of something bigger.” He sat back, arms across his chest, looking satisfied. “The Master will be pleased with our work.”
“So you were all working together?”
“Not all of us. We hired some of the villain persuasion to help distract the heroes so we could go about our business.”
“Who’s we? You and this Master?”
“The Master himself cannot get involved yet. He is not ready. He is not prepared. My brothers and I go ahead of him.” He seemed to fix his gaze on Pendergast.
“Was Jihad one of your brothers? Because I’d say he failed miserably.”
“No, he did his part. The Old One cannot stop our Master, no matter how many of his servants he kills. Where one falls, another will spring up.”
“Who is the Old One?”
“You know him as the Reincarnist. One day, my Master will bathe in his blood.”
“Like he did Jihad’s?”
Talon’s face fell into a scowl. “The Old One should stay out of our business. He has problems in his own backyard. After all”—he smiled again—“it was one of his little capes that helped kick off our night of chaos.”
I drew in a harsh breath as I remembered Jihad’s words right before I died. Pendergast shut off the footage.
“This is the second time one of them has mentioned a traitor in our midst,” I admitted.
“I know nothing about the inner workings of the Elite Hands of Justice,” Pendergast said. “You and your late partner are the only two members I have ever met, and I trust you. But you need to watch your back.”
I nodded. “Thank you for this, Pendergast.”
“No problem. Please let me know if I can do anything, Miss Livingston.”
And with a new reminder that someone was selling us out, I went on my way.
“Did you get everything taken care of with the police?” Wesley greeted me as soon as I walked in the door. He had a tumbler of scotch in one hand.
“Yeah. It wasn’t much that we didn’t already know, but it tied some loose ends together.”
“You can tell me about it later. Write it down if you need to so you won’t forget the details.” He looked as if his mind was already occupied.
“You want me to write you a report?”
“Yes. If you could, that’d be perfect.” He took a drink from the glass.
I eyed the drink. “A little early to be hitting the hard stuff, isn’t it?”
“You try having half-memories of an eternal life keep popping up at random times and see how you feel,” he snapped.
I glared at him. “Is basic manners one of things you forgot? Don’t worry about the police or our case. I’m taking care of it.” I turned and stormed upstairs.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The next few days passed in a haze. I tried to avoid Wesley as much as possible and still do my job. Mayhew’s disapproving gaze followed me wherever I went, but he kept quiet. I practiced magic on my own, ate meals alone, and even patrolled on my own, leaving when I knew Wesley was eating so I could give him a report of the sectors I’d covered later. For some reason, the criminal element had been quiet. Maybe after watching the big-timers get thrown down, they’d gotten scared.
Or maybe my heart just wasn’t in fighting the good fight anymore.
I wasn’t eating or sleeping much. Within days I had lost weight and had huge dark circles under my eyes. I was depressed and it was showing.
The day of the memorial dawned with a cold, gray light that fit my mood. I knew I had to attend and act like I was mourning my dead boss and not my lover. I hoped to slip away quietly and not stay through the whole ordeal. Through some quirk of fate, I had become more like Robert than Wesley was: I was the one who wanted to hide from social events.
A knock sounded on my door.
“What?” I asked, not bothering to get out of bed.
Mayhew poked his head in. “Mister Charles wants to know if you’re coming down to breakfast.”
“No.” I rolled onto my side to face the wall. “I’ll be there for the memorial.”
“He wants to speak to you about the memorial.”
I sighed. “I have the day off, remember? I don’t have to do what he says today.”
“You are destroying yourself for no reason.”
“No reason?” I sat up and narrowed my eyes into little slits. “I think I have a damn good reason, Mayhew, so butt out. Most people are allowed to grieve for their loss and aren’t told to act as if nothing happened.”
“You’re right, something has happened. To someone other than you, if you would care to get out of that hole you’re wallowing in and notice. Someone is now adrift, completely lost in his life and confused as hell. And the one person who should be helping him, both on a personal and professional level, is instead avoiding him like the plague when she doesn’t snap at him like a moody teenager.”
I winced at the accusation, but wasn’t ready to back down. “Like Wesley cares. He doesn’t even know me.”
“Just keep in mind who you’re hurting, Lainey. Remember exactly who it is that you are treating so coldly.” With that parting shot, he shut the door.
I threw a pillow at the door, swearing, hurting at the truth of his comments. How could he understand what I was going through? He didn’t know how painful this was, looking at the ghost of Robert every day.
A steel determination set in. I was going to make it through today. And then I was going to take it one day at a time after that. I owed it to myself; I had worked too hard on my career to throw it all away over a guy. I was going to set my tunnel-vision sights on becoming a full member of the Elite Hands of Justice and getting the hell away from Wesley. And I was never letting anyone back into my heart. Robert was right—romance was distracting, and now I knew it could destroy you, too.
I got up and slid on my dress for the memorial. I was sure it was going to raise a few eyebrows, but I didn’t care. I was dressing for Robert, the last person that I would ever love, and he would have liked the burgundy color. I could almost hear him joking about not wearing black.
Taking a deep breath, I went downstairs.
Wesley glanced up when I walked into the breakfast nook, and then he stared, fork frozen in front of him.
Mayhew set a plate down. I shook my head. “Not hungry.”
“Eat and be quiet.”
Wesley stared at him in surprise and I shot Mayhew a nasty look. He still looked as impassive as ever.
I picked up a piece of toast and took a bite. “There. Happy?”
He looked satisfied and went away. I chewed on the toast and sipped my coffee, finding that I did have a bit of an appetite if I forced myself to eat.
Wesley cleared his throat. “You look very nice.”
“Thank you.”
“It’s an interesting choice for a memorial service.”
“Robert would have liked it.”
“The color suits you. And I think it’s nice you wore color. I understand funerals are the living’s way to mourn the dead, but it should also be about celebrating the life that has passed. All that stiff black clothing is not a celebration. We’re both defying convention.”
My gaze shot to him at that comment, and I noticed he was wearing a gray suit with a dark blue pinstripe and matching shirt. He did look nice.
My eyes flicked up to meet his dark blue ones, and I knew he was noticing me noticing him. I looked away, severing the connection.
“Lainey, I wanted to apologize for my behavior earlier this week,” he said. “I was rude. The first few days I’m back after reincarnating, I’m rubbish to be around, I’m afraid. My mind’s trying to sort things out and it’s distracting and painful. Especially since it seems like I get to keep detailed memories of those things I’d rather forget, and I lose happier things. But I’m doing much better now, and though my memory of the case we’ve been working on is vague at best, the diary is helping, and I’m sure you can help me fill in other blanks. We can get back to work as soon as you feel comfortable doing so.”
“Alright.” This is for your career was back to being my mantra. “Mayhew said you wanted to talk to me about the memorial.”
“Yes. I know we’re supposed to circulate, but can you stay with me? I won’t know anyone…”
That’s for damn sure. “You want me to introduce you to people?”