“Harmless?” Casey baited. “Oz may be many things, but harmless is not one of them. Beware the fallen one, sister. He is far more than he lets on.”
I considered his choice of words carefully before responding, having only heard the term “fallen” used to describe the Dark Ones.
“Fallen?” I repeated, asking for clarification. “Like the Dark Ones?”
Casey raised a brow at me curiously.
“I’m surprised he didn’t tell you last night. He so enjoys talking about himself.”
“We did not speak during the drive or after it.”
My statement must have been far more scandalous than I could have imagined. Both Drew and Casey eyed me strangely, then looked at one another in an attempt to communicate something that I could not follow.
“Not a word? He said nothing?” Drew asked for clarification.
“No. He warned me about the city on our way to the vehicle. I told him that I did not require his guidance or input. That was all.”
Again, the two looked to one another strangely be Vm Sde” Drewfore responding.
“And he didn’t try to . . .” Drew’s expression begged me to understand something in the subtext of his words, but it was lost on me.
“Fuck you,” Casey interjected. “He didn’t try to fuck you?”
“He did not,” I replied, unable to keep the sourness I felt at the thought off my face.
“Well, I guess there’s a first time for everything.”
“Would someone please explain the term ‘fallen’ that was just used to describe him? If you are not referring to the Dark Ones, then I would very much like to know what you mean when you use that word. I have only ever heard it applied to them.”
“Who have you heard call them that?” Casey asked, looking more interested in the conversation.
“My father.”
“Then he is misinformed. Fallen means precisely what it implies,” Pierson said as he descended the stairs from the second floor. “Oz has fallen.”
“Fallen from where? And why?”
“From grace,” Pierson clarified, looking pained by the task of having to explain himself. He continued through the living room to the kitchen, not wanting to frustrate himself with my ignorance any further.
“We told you he was an angel, Khara,” Drew interjected. “He’s just not a very good one.”
“If he is evil, then why do you associate with him?”
“He’s not evil per se,” Drew sighed, gesturing for me to come join him on the sofa. As I did, Casey rose to stand and block my way.
“And not all of your brothers are good. It goes both ways.” He pushed past me, he too making his way to the kitchen. His words were unnecessary; his true nature was hardly lost on me.
“Oz is . . . complicated,” Drew started, running his hand through his hair, tugging on it slightly.
“I hardly see that. He seems quite predictable to me.”
“Well, that’s what he wants everyone to see. He wasn’t always that way. He’s devolved over time.” Drew pressed himself further into the sofa, leaning back against it as though he needed to rest before telling his tale. “None of us fully knows why he fell. Like we told you before, he’s hardly forthcoming with information like that. However, it seems pretty clear that he has no intention of trying to rise again. He likes what he has become.”
“I fail to see what there is to like.”
“I know, Khara. He seems to have been on his worst behavior since you showed up. But I can say that he has his moments, even though they are few and far between. Ask Kierson; he owes him his life.”
On cue, Kierson made his way down the stairs to join the rest of us. He rounded the bottom step and said nothing at all, his normally goofy expression absent from his face when he turned to face Drew.
“Is that true, Kierson? Did Oz save your life?” I asked, ignoring the rising tension between him and Drew.
“I’ve got to go to the store,” he replied coolly, looking past me to the kitchen. “You coming, Pierson?”
“Yes, I think that might be best,” he replied, coming to join his twin.
“Drew, I think you oughta come, too. We need to have a little chat.”
“Kierson—”
“Not here,” Kierson growled. It was the most angry I had seen him. Not even when he had kille [ he2;d the Breather had he seemed so hostile. Whatever was behind it was clearly an unwelcome subject as far as Kierson was concerned.
The twins exited the front door without another word. Drew gave me a tight smile before heading out to join them. Their leave left only one remaining brother in the home—Casey—and I had no intention of joining him in the kitchen. Instead, I decided to take in my surroundings a little more thoroughly. Things had moved quickly since my arrival, not allowing me the opportunity to become comfortable with my new environment. In the past, I had the luxury of centuries to accomplish that task. In the present, no one knew how much time I had, so I chose not to waste any of it.
Essentially all I was familiar with in the three-story home was the basement—my room—and the first floor. I had yet to wander beyond that. Making my way to the staircase that led upstairs, I rested my hand on the newel post and looked up the steep and narrow stairway. It was benign enough, with weathered wooden risers, but it was where it would take me that gave me pause. Would my brothers not take kindly to my exploration of their home? Would it be seen as an affront of sorts? So many of their reactions to things were beyond my comprehension. I could not possibly presume to know how they would respond if they knew. With Casey home, it was even more disconcerting. He had only moments earlier admitted to being every bit as callous as I thought him to be. I did not wish to be on the receiving end of his wrath, if it could be avoided.
With a cautious glance over my shoulder to see if he was watching, I carefully treaded up the steps, trying my best to be silent. Once I reached the second-floor landing, I looked to my left, taking stock of the rooms. There were four closed doors along the narrow hall—presumably my brothers’ bedrooms—and one bathroom, whose door was slightly ajar. The patterned paper covering the walls was in tatters, pieces hanging and torn off along the entire hallway. I couldn’t help but pluck a loose piece off as I passed, making my way to yet another narrow staircase at the far end of the hall.
Again I tread lightly on the stairs, attempting to make as little noise as possible while I ascended them. When I reached the top, I found a very different layout than the floor below. There was virtually no hallway at all, only a landing with a single wooden door. Turning the knob gently, I pushed it open to find a long, sparse, but tidy, bedroom. I did not wish to invade the privacy of whomever’s space this was, so I turned to leave. But then I stopped. In the far corner of the room was a spiraling staircase leading into the turret I had seen from the exterior of the Victorian. There was a window at the top of it, letting in a glorious beam of light that diffused its way through part of the space. Wanting to see where it led, I crossed the room quickly and climbed the stairs, stopping to stare out the surprisingly large window that faced the backyard. From it, I could see the rooftop of the third floor in its entirety. It also had a view of the main part of the city just off in the distance, overlooking all the neighboring homes with their rows of decaying roofs clearly on display. I was intrigued by the sense of openness out there and found myself lifting the sash to allow myself passage.
Stepping out onto the flat, black roof below, I was greeted by the sun as it slipped from behind the seemingly ever-present clouds that shrouded Detroit. The solar warmth was familiar and yet not—oddly different from that of my home. The rays on my face pierced me deep inside, reaching to a place that nothing in the Underworld ever could. As though the fire in the sky commanded me, I tipped my chin up, allowing my hair to fall back, exposing my neck and chest to invite the heat. But before I had a moment to bask in the [ baped sensation, a gruff voice rumbled low in my ear.
“New girl, is there a reason you�
��re intruding on my space?” I turned to find Oz uncomfortably near me. I looked him over slowly, wearing every bit of the disdain I felt for him on my face. My gesture was misinterpreted, judging by his amused reaction. “Or maybe you’ve finally come to your senses and came looking for me . . .”
“I thought I would explore the Victorian, in the event that I should need to navigate it under duress at some point.”
“Sure,” he mocked, stepping around my shoulder to stand before me, thereby blocking out the sun. “That seems a convenient excuse.”
“I did not know that was your room. Now that I do, I will be certain to avoid it at all costs,” I retorted. “I shall leave you to whatever it was you were doing.” When I turned to leave, he caught my arm. His grasp was firm, but not uncomfortable.
“Running away so soon?” he asked, a mischievous look on his face. “You’re already out here; maybe we should get to know each other a little better. I think we’ve been off to a rather rocky start.”
“I know what I need to know,” I replied. My response did nothing to derail him, so I tried another approach entirely. “Actually, there is something that you could familiarize me with.”
“Really?” he replied, curiosity overtaking his tone. “And what would that be?”
“Kierson—you saved his life once. I want to know from what and how.”
He tensed at my words, his grip on my arm tightening. His lips pressed together in a straight line, erasing any amusement his face had displayed earlier. My inquiry had affected him.
“Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to, new girl.”
“I ask such questions because I want the answers they hold.”
“Who told you about that?”
“Unimportant.”
“Well, I can see that whoever did wasn’t interested in letting you in on all the details.”
“They all left before they could.”
“Ha,” he laughed, letting go of my arm and turning away from me. “They weren’t going to tell you shit. Those assholes knew exactly what they were doing, which means it wasn’t Kierson. He’s too dumb to have thought of that. Casey doesn’t give a shit—there’s nothing in it for him to tell you. The only way he would have served me up is if he could have sat back on that fucking sofa and watched the chaos play out in front of him. No, this has Drew or Pierson written all over it.”
For whatever reason, my question had rattled the fallen one. He continued to ramble on, muttering to himself about exactly whose ass he was going kick for alerting me to something he apparently viewed as confidential. Uninterested in his rant, I retreated back to the window into his room. It was plain that he had no intention of telling me what I wanted to know. Why no one would remained a mystery.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked, stopping me just short of my escape with his words.
“Inside.”
“No, I don’t think so. Not until you tell me why you asked that question.”
“I asked because I knew you would not answer. You were as forthcoming as I expected, which only further cemented my opinion of you. There is no point in us chatting. It will change nothing. I just wanted to illustrate that point to you, given that you seem oblivious to it.”
< Uninteresth="7%" align="justify">His eyebrows rose momentarily. My explanation surprised him.
“Well played, new girl.”
“You are not the only one well versed in games, fallen one.”
The surprise washed from his face instantaneously.
“Careful, new girl,” he warned, moving quickly toward me until he loomed above me as menacingly as the worst of the Underworld. “You don’t want me to make this more than a game.”
I saw no reason to respond. Instead, I turned around to continue my exit, stepping through the open window without looking back. He would stay true to his words or not. Either way, I had made my point: I was not a toy for him to play with.
As I made my way through his room, he made no attempt to follow. I had not paid much attention when I originally entered, the spiral staircase occupying most of my focus, but as I walked through, I couldn’t help but notice how surprisingly pristine it was—clean, neat, and orderly. Everything that he was not. It seemed strange that someone who cared about nothing other than himself would bother to attend to something else in such a fastidious manner. Perhaps there was more to him than he let on.
Exiting his room, I quickly made my way to the stairs and down to the lower floor, wanting to be far away from him. When I reached the hallway below, I came face-to-face with Casey, who looked every bit his menacing self.
“Snooping around, are we?” he asked. His tone implied indifference, but it was plain that he was angry.
“No. I only wanted to see the home I now live in.”
“I see you found Oz’s room without much trouble,” he continued, his eyes drifting over to the stairs I had just descended.
“That was quite by accident, I can assure you. Had I known it was his, I would have avoided that part of the house entirely.”
His eyes narrowed, doing nothing to improve his expression.
“There’s nothing up there for you,” he said, leaning in closer. “Understand?”
“There’s little up there for anyone,” I replied, remembering how sparse Oz’s room was. “But I have no intention of visiting there again.”
He continued to stare at me silently, assessing something. Only when he turned and walked away did I assume he had found what he wanted in my words.
“Food’s downstairs,” he called over his shoulder.
Famished, I followed behind him until we reached the living room. He broke away to take up his station on the couch while I continued on to the kitchen. Alone, I searched the room, opening and closing cupboards and drawers methodically until I found the implements necessary to eat the food laid out across the counter. Once I served myself, I sat on the chair that had been tucked underneath the ledge of the vast rectangular surface constructed in the center of the room. As I ate, I questioned what had happened on the roof only moments earlier. Before now, I had never given any situation much analysis after the fact. For almost my whole life, I had taken most things at face value. Though the Underworld was full of deceit and various other machinations, I knew that was how it operated. There was no need for deep thought when everyone around you was evil and vindictive. Assuming the worst was a means of survival. But things in my new home were different. My brothers operated in such an unfamiliar fashion that I often found myself assessing every look, every question, every deed, for what might lie beneath it. Oz’s confounding behavior took my analysis to an entirely different level.
He made me long for home.
But fate had demanded that I return to the surface before my time and
to an unfamiliar setting, placing me in the hands of my brothers. There was a reason why, though none of us could fathom it. I chose to focus my energy on finding it. If I was ever going to return to the Underworld, I needed to discern why I was in Detroit. I also needed to procure a being capable of bringing me back from whence I had come.
A problem for another day.
8
“So I learned something interesting while I was out,” Kierson mumbled, his mouth full of some type of edible concoction. His earlier irritation with his brothers seemed to have completely dissipated. Food also often seemed to be an easy distraction for him. “It sounds as though the Breather I killed the other night wasn’t the only one seen hanging on by a thin thread recently. Very recently.”
“Where’d you hear that?” Pierson inquired from across the kitchen table, his air of superiority firmly in place.
“I have my sources, same as you,” Kierson fired back as he glared at Pierson. It seemed the brothers had parted ways not long after leaving the house, leading me to question if their investigative strengths lay in their individuality, not their combined forces. “Anyway, it sounds like there are a few of them staying together on the e
ast side of the city limits in the old train depot, or what used to be the old train depot. At the rate that thing’s falling apart, I’m not sure there’s too much of it left standing.”
“Why out there? There aren’t humans living anywhere near that place,” Drew replied, his thoughts flowing freely from him as though he had not meant to share them at all but could not stop himself. He also appeared unable to stop himself from pacing around the kitchen.
“Fear would be my guess,” Kierson said with a shrug, resting back into his wooden chair. “If you knew that you were about to sign your own death warrant by crossing a line you couldn’t come back from, wouldn’t you stay as far away from temptation as you could?”
“That’s hardly a relevant point, given that they will need to feed sometime,” Pierson rebutted.
“True, but Kierson might not be entirely wrong.” Drew stepped up to the edge of the kitchen table where the rest of us sat, placing his hands down firmly on it. “There is safety in numbers. Perhaps they are communing together to keep themselves in check. Keep themselves from falling off the wagon, so to speak.”
“It’s not fucking AA, Drew,” Casey snarled from the far end of the table. “You’re giving them way too much credit. My bet is that they’re coming together for a common goal, and it ain’t a good one.” He stood and mimicked Drew’s stance, leaning toward him. “Why don’t we just march down there right now and take them all out. Quick and easy.”
“We don’t know that they’ve done anything wrong yet,” Pierson pointed out.
“So we should wait until they do? Kierson saw what that one did the other night. Should we wait until we have an army of them about to rain down on the humans? I’m sure that would go unnoticed . . . Nobody would find it strange at all if a slew of Empties went shuffling their way through the city like the zombie apocalypse had finally come. Or maybe we should just say ‘fuck it’ to the treaty and clean this mess up like we should have in the first place. We’re not fucking diplomats, and we’re not fucking cops. There is no system of justice here. Ou ^entoke jusr job is to maintain the balance at any cost, and, as far as I can see, having those loose cannons running around town is a risk we can’t afford.”
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