by Dannika Dark
Maybe they had more in common than I’d first thought.
Shepherd wasn’t feeling up to a party, but he continued with the charade at Viktor’s request. What he really craved was a bottle of hard liquor. He was hanging back, looking for an excuse to leave, when he suddenly caught sight of a woman with wavy blond hair. She might have been a ghost from his past, but when she turned around, a stranger’s face stared back at him. His heart clenched, and that sealed the deal. He needed to escape the crowd and be alone.
Killing Cristo had brought him an immense amount of pleasure and pain all at once. Shepherd had always imagined it in his head, but Cristo’s death hadn’t brought him the closure he’d expected would follow. In those final moments, Shepherd became the monster that lived in the dark corners of his soul. He wanted Cristo to beg for mercy and apologize, but all he got were screams as he stabbed the man who had tortured so many women, including Shepherd’s only love. Cristo laughed when the alarms went off, as if the cavalry had come to save him. Enraged, Shepherd sliced him across the belly. Murdering Cristo was a fruitless task that brought him no joy. It didn’t bring back Maggie. Instead, it pushed him even further away from the man he once was. Perhaps what really died in that room was the last piece of his soul.
Shepherd found a quiet spot upstairs and sat down in an ornate chair. Patrick had one hell of a mansion. Officials like him always lived lavish lifestyles.
Wyatt sent him another dumbass picture over the phone. This time, he had a mouthful of grapes and a wide smile. Shepherd deleted the picture and began scrolling through the others that his twisted partner had been sending him all night. It was Wyatt’s way of cheering him up, but Shepherd just wasn’t in the mood.
He swiped his finger across the screen and frowned at a blurry shot of a carpet. After deleting it, he noticed the next image was a small shoe. Then one of Raven reaching for the camera, but she wasn’t wearing a black dress. These were from Patrick’s dinner party. Shepherd continued deleting pictures of vases, the ceiling, hands, someone’s tongue sticking out, and then… finally stopped.
Patrick’s little boy had stolen his phone and taken all these photos, either intentionally or by accident. Probably the latter. Shepherd wasn’t sure how much little kids knew about operating a phone.
It was the first time he’d seen the boy without his black mask, and the first thing he noticed were how blue his eyes were. They were rimmed in black and not a flat color at all. The inside of the irises had a paler shade that streaked outward like electricity. Shepherd couldn’t stop staring. Something else caught his attention, and he zoomed in.
His heart rocketed in his chest when he noticed a scar across the boy’s face. It started near the corner of his left eye and curved across his cheek to the center of his nose.
Cristo’s words echoed in his mind. “Thought I killed him, though. Cut his face when my knife went in, and I only got paid half for damaging the goods.”
Shepherd quickly scrolled through the remaining pics, but only one other showed the boy, and the mask obscured his face. He went back to the clear shot and drank it all in.
It couldn’t be.
It had to be a coincidence. But to look at him, he was roughly the same age as when it happened. He had Maggie’s eyes, only his hair was black. Shepherd had dark brown hair, but his mother had black hair. The look he gave the camera was serious and stony—an expression far too mature for a five-year-old.
Shepherd needed to see him in person.
Now.
He launched to his feet and flung open the doors to every room he passed. The kid wasn’t hanging around Patrick tonight like usual, so he had to be upstairs somewhere. When he interrupted a couple making out in a closed room, the woman gave him a scathing glance. Shepherd left the door open and jogged upstairs to the third level. It was quieter up there. No guests or staff.
Shepherd opened the door to another room, and something caught his attention.
A child-size bed.
He flipped on the light and strode inside, looking across the room at the small bed shoved against the wall. The white bedspread didn’t look like something a kid would have. Didn’t they usually have shit like Batman and race cars? To the right, a wooden dresser and a small desk in the corner. In some ways, it reminded Shepherd of his own room in how basic it was. He opened the top dresser drawer and peered inside at tiny underwear. It had to be the kid’s room, but where were the toys?
“Should I be concerned that a grown man is snooping through a child’s underwear drawer?” Patrick asked, closing the door behind him.
Shepherd flattened his hands on the dresser and gave Patrick a baleful look over his shoulder.
Mr. Bane leaned against the door, hands in the pockets of his black trousers. “I never thought you’d put the pieces together. I knew this day might come. That’s why I made the boy wear the mask in public, but I suppose there’s no need for discretion anymore.”
Shepherd was thunderstruck, caught in a whirlwind between a dream and a nightmare.
Patrick took a deep breath and made a melodic sound as he released it. “Cristo promised me you were dead, but he also botched the job and scarred the boy’s face. I decided to look into it myself and discovered a victim was transported to the hospital, but I couldn’t get myself involved to investigate, let alone finish the job. After all, I had a new baby to care for. Shortly after, you disappeared off the face of the earth. I see you changed your name. Even with the scars, I didn’t begin to suspect you were that man until you mentioned the story and dated it five years ago.”
“Why the hell didn’t you confront me?” Shepherd bit out, turning to face him.
“I’m a man who believes in opportunity. You caught your own son and didn’t know him by touch. I could have rescinded my offer or even killed you, but when you asked for Cristo’s address, it hit me that I could kill two birds with one stone. Cristo is an elusive man, and I’ve wanted to kill him for years. The only thing that held me back was having his death trace back to me. See, I don’t get my hands dirty if I don’t have to, and I don’t trust anyone enough to do the deed. It was only a matter of time before Cristo would grow desperate for money and threaten me with blackmail. So you see, our favor trade guaranteed my security. You were the perfect weapon.”
Shepherd scanned the empty room. “What was it all for? Your sadistic need to torture a child?”
Patrick laughed haughtily. “Don’t be ridiculous. He’s fed, adequately dressed, socialized, and educated.”
“And deprived.”
The Mage cocked his head to the side. “Depriving the boy of sensory things sharpens his skills as a Sensor. The less he has to distract himself with, the more attuned he becomes to the world around him. I remove objects that provide pleasure or pain in order to simplify his life.”
Shepherd held back his rage, because beneath the surface was immense sorrow, and he’d be damned if he’d give Patrick the satisfaction of one tear. He flicked his gaze at the door and clenched his teeth. Patrick looked like one of the later actors in the James Bond movies, but beneath the façade, he was in fact the villain.
Patrick gave him a tight-lipped grin. “It’s soundproof. Sometimes when I have to talk to the boy, I don’t want the servants eavesdropping.”
“You keep calling him the boy.”
“He hasn’t earned the right to a name yet. A name gives him identity and individuality. This is how you train them.”
Shepherd turned his back on Patrick and slammed his eyes shut. It was everything he could do not to unleash hell on the man, but he needed answers. “Why? Why would you steal a child when you could have adopted one? I mean, what the fuck are these charity auctions for?” He spun around and stared daggers at him.
“Do you think I’d want just any child?” Patrick clasped his hands behind his back and strode toward the center of the room. “Maggie and I had a special relationship. Who do you think got her a job at the hospital in the first place?”
Shepherd felt all the blood drain from his head. “What are you talking about?”
“Maggie was a unique girl with specific abilities. Not many Relics specialize in human genetics and pathogens. Unfortunately, she wasn’t… cooperative. You can charm a person for information, but you can’t make them loyal. Eventually it was brought to my attention that she was with child. Imagine my surprise, especially since she wasn’t married. Poor Maggie. She couldn’t hide her secret any longer from the higher authority, and they frown upon such things.” Patrick turned on his heel and paced. “I had a private conversation, assuring I would secure her job on the condition she tell me the truth about the pregnancy. I can’t exactly protect someone if I don’t know what I’m protecting.”
Shepherd didn’t remember Maggie ever mentioning Patrick. “Why would she confide in you if she didn’t want to work for you?”
“You’re a smart fella. Can’t figure it out yourself? She had no recollection of our previous interactions and my unique offer; I had a Vampire scrub her memory of our conversations. Maggie only knew me as the kind man offering to step in and secure her job at the hospital,” he said absently.
“Why would you want a Relic’s baby?”
Patrick turned a sharp eye at him. “I have my reasons. When she revealed the baby’s father was a Sensor, I was dismayed. That would mean the gifts would be canceled out. What an absolute waste. Then she went on to say how much she needed the job to raise a baby. I suggested adoption, and she confided in me that the unborn baby would have both gifts. I was flabbergasted. Not only that, but the child would have the lifespan of a Sensor. What a rarity, and only a Relic could know such a secret. What goes on inside their bodies is a mystery among mysteries. But she knew with absolute certainty, and that made the child even more valuable to me. Just imagine having a Sensor in my possession.”
“Someone to do your dirty work,” Shepherd growled. “Why not wait until the baby was born? Why would you—” He choked on his own words.
“Yes, the whole thing was a messy affair. Cristo assured me it was better this way. Clearly the father was a Sensor, and without knowing who the man was, Cristo advised it was too dangerous to wait. The child could have distinct features that would identify him, or the father might hold him and always know him by touch. Maggie was of no use to me once I had the child. He’ll grow up with the same knowledge as his mother, and under my control.”
“What’s to stop me from outing you right here, right now, in front of everyone?”
Patrick gave him a sardonic smile. “Because, dear boy, no one will believe you. I’m telling you the facts so you’ll know what’s at stake. You have no evidence, and slander against a member of the higher authority without concrete evidence is treason, punishable by death. They won’t open an investigation on accusation alone. You know that as well as I do.” He took a step forward, his eyes glacial. “Do you want me to bring down your entire organization? I can place every single one of your friends in Breed jail and throw away the key. Even if you could get him back, without Keystone, what kind of life could you give a child if you’re living hand to mouth on the streets? You don’t want to mess with me. I will tear your life apart.”
Shepherd retrieved a blade from inside his jacket and stared at Patrick wordlessly.
Patrick’s eyes drifted down to the dagger. “We both know you won’t do anything. Your son will end up in an orphanage, if he’s lucky. It’s your word against mine.”
“I’ll come for him.”
Patrick’s lip curled. “Will you? I have something of yours that’s very… fragile. Accidents happen. If you even think about organizing a mission to steal him away, I won’t hunt you down. No. I’ll hire the most ruthless hitman in the Breed world to hunt down that boy and kill him… right in front of you.”
“You’re using my son to do your dirty work!” Shepherd roared. “You have no right.”
“There’s nothing wrong with a life of servitude,” Patrick said flatly. “The people in power may hire you, but if your operation was exposed for what it really is, do you think they would protect you? What can you give him that I cannot? A toy? And what will that teach him? It’s certainly not love—something we both know you’re incapable of. Love doesn’t make a boy into a man. You’ve crossed a line somewhere and have no business raising a child. Your only stake in this is possession. The boy helps me with my position. His job allows me to know who is being truthful and who is not. I have you to thank for those gifts.”
“You can’t do this,” Shepherd said with less conviction, gripping the handle of his blade so tightly that his joints began to ache. “I’ll kill you.”
“I have eyes and ears everywhere. I’m not someone you wish to trifle with. The Vampires underground are very helpful for the right price, and they informed me that Cristo died by your hand. I’ve placed that little incident in your record. And yes, you have a record. Everyone in Keystone does. I like to collect things. Just imagine what my colleagues would make of a man who killed an official, especially after reviewing your history of violence. You’ll do your son more harm than good, and you can’t protect him if your head is away from your shoulders.”
Shepherd moved fast. He slammed Patrick against the door, pressing the sharp blade to his neck. A rivulet of blood dribbled down his gullet. “You don’t have a damn thing to take me down. Maybe you’ve got yourself a nice little file, but it’s not enough to put me away, or else I’d already be behind bars. But know this: every move you make, I’ll be watching. You make one felonious move, and we’ll be on your ass, because that’s what we do. Remember who I am. I work for Keystone, and that means I don’t play nice. No one is untouchable. One way or another, I’m going to get my kid back. But not before I put a knife through your black heart and cut off your head, you dirty fucking Mage. Cristo begged for his life, but you’re going to beg me to end it.”
Patrick’s lips pressed into a mulish line. He leaned against the blade, pushing Shepherd back until there was distance between them. After taking a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbing his neck, he gave Shepherd one final look before leaving. “Now that I know who you are, I know who to teach your son to hate.”
Chapter 28
The charity ball carried on until the wee hours of the morning, and by the time we dragged ourselves home, dawn was approaching, and most everyone went straight to bed. Shepherd headed down to the training room without skipping a beat, and I decided to bake canned biscuits—just in case someone wandered down for breakfast.
No one had.
To keep myself busy, I threw a ton of pasta into a boiling pot of water and spent a long time chopping up peppers, onions, tomatoes, and pepperoni to make a pasta salad. It was one of the few meals I knew how to make and the kind of thing that would keep in the fridge until everyone was ready for lunch.
Afterward, I went upstairs and showered. While changing, I wound up my jewelry box and opened the lid to play the music. Instead of placing my necklace inside, I kept it on and tucked it beneath my shirt. Something was weighing heavily on my mind, and since it was a beautiful day, I decided to leave later, but before dark.
At around three in the afternoon, everyone began trickling into the dining room. Niko helped me set the table, and when Viktor got a look at my culinary masterpiece, he selected an enormous bottle of wine to go with it. I’d even baked garlic bread as an appetizer. Not too shabby for a girl who used to eat cold hot dogs right out of the package.
“You must have a thing for pasta,” Wyatt remarked, taking a seat in his chair. He pinched a black olive from the bowl and tossed it into his mouth.
Blue moseyed into the room, her outfit an afterthought. She had on her trademark feather earrings, but her hair was pulled up in a messy bun, strands hanging loose, and her clothes were baggy and casual. She sat in her seat and yawned. “I think I’m going to let my animal fly for a few hours. I need more rest, and she wants to spread her wings.”
Viktor circled the table, pouring wine
into each glass… except for Gem’s. “Take care that you stay on the property.”
“She’s always good about that, but I’m giving her full control today. I want to catch up on some sleep, so I can’t make any promises.”
He filled her glass. “I worry about you.”
“Needlessly.” She motioned for him to stop pouring. “I shouldn’t drink and fly.”
“I drink and run.”
She grinned, a twinkle in her eyes. “Is that so?”
I stared blankly at Wyatt while he loaded up his plate.
“Is Shepherd sleeping?” I asked. “I saw him go upstairs an hour ago.”
Wyatt scratched his whiskery jaw and looked at me with one eye closed. “I ain’t his keeper. If he wants to skip lunch, then more for me.”
Gem reached over the chair between them and pinched his arm. “Meanie.”
“Lay that guilt on someone else. I knocked on his door to invite him down, but he’s busy staring at his phone and ignoring the living. Probably looking at all those sexy pics I sent him last night.”
Gem snorted. “Of what? You making love to your MoonPies? They’re not a basic food group, you know.”
He stood up and reached for the bottle of wine. “Says you.”
“Have you put on weight?”
He glanced down at his belly and gave it a long look. Despite his nerdy inclinations, Wyatt kept himself fit. “Doesn’t matter anyhow. I had to send them all back.”
She gave him an impish grin. “So I won’t find a hidden stash if I dig in the back of your drawers?”
He winked and refilled his glass.
Claude swaggered into the room. Shirtless. “I would say that something smells good, but I don’t smell much of anything except onions.”
Wyatt rolled his eyes. “Man, put something on. This isn’t a casting call for Gladiator. Your chesticles impress no one around here.”
Gem reached out, and Claude leaned down to give her a hug.
“How are the injuries healing up?” Blue asked.