by Jane Kindred
“God, you stupid bastard.” He sucked in air, holding his stomach. Honestly, he should just get himself one of those little vials of pentobarbital and put an end to it. Put himself and the rest of the world out of his misery. One fresh soul, coming right up.
It wasn’t like anyone had a gun to his head forcing him to carry out his repugnant duties. What would have happened, after all, if he’d just neglected to give Mrs. Castillo the vial and let her live out her life? Was someone going to reprimand him? Maybe Edgar would have him fired.
The idea made him laugh again, but after a moment, his laughter subsided. What would happen if he didn’t do it? Absolutely nothing, that’s what.
Lucien got up and grabbed his keys and headed back down to his car. Screw his duties. He drove back to Mrs. Castillo’s house and pounded on the door.
She looked shocked to see him. His was probably the last face she wanted to see. Behind her, visible through the open bedroom door, the cleanup crew moved about, calmly carrying out their work.
“Mr. Smok? Did you forget something?”
“I did,” he said. “Myself.”
Mrs. Castillo squinted at him. “I don’t understand.”
“I made a mistake, Mrs. Castillo.”
Anxiety clouded her features, and her hand flew to her uncombed hair, a gauze bandage visible on her arm where the revenant had bitten her. “Is she going to come back? I don’t think my mother can handle it.”
And how would her mother handle the loss of her daughter so soon after?
“No, there was no problem with the service. It was a billing error. Usually, my sister handles these details, and I didn’t realize we were waiving the usual pay-on-receipt-of-services clause. I’m so embarrassed, Mrs. Castillo, but if you wouldn’t mind, could I get that medicine back from you?”
“The medicine? I don’t understand. Is there something wrong with it?”
“It’s just that there’s no need for you to use it. The bill won’t come due until your natural expiration.”
“My...expiration?” She was sleep deprived, and it took a moment for the words to sink in, but when they did, her face lit up like beam of pure light. “I don’t have to take it?”
Lucien smiled. “You don’t have to take it.”
Mrs. Castillo burst into tears and flung her arms around his neck, taking him by surprise. He indulged her, letting her weep until the cleaners emerged from the hallway behind her with the body bag to transport Mrs. Ramirez to the cemetery for reinterment.
Gently tugging Mrs. Castillo’s arms from around his neck, Lucien moved her aside so they could get by. She stood watching them with her hand over her mouth, weeping quietly.
“The medicine?” Lucien prompted after the body had been loaded into the truck.
“Oh, yes.” Mrs. Castillo grinned. “Of course, yes! Let me get it for you.” She hurried to her bedroom across the hall from the room where the revenant had been earlier but paused in the doorway, looking perplexed. “I had it right here. Did the other gentlemen take it already?”
Lucien followed her to help her find it. “I doubt they would have even known about it. They don’t deal with this end of the operation. You’ve probably just forgotten where you set it down.”
“No, it was right here by the bed. I had everything set up for when I was going to go to sleep tonight. I didn’t want my daughter to have to worry about anything.” Mrs. Castillo turned and went across the hall to check on her mother and let out a sharp cry. “Mamá! Mamá, no!”
From behind her, Lucien could see the old woman lying on the daybed on her back, staring up at the ceiling with eyes that had as much life in them as a Lucite marble. Next to her on the end table was the empty bottle.
Mrs. Castillo ran to her, shaking the limp body. With a sob, she dropped to her knees and embraced her mother. The devil, it seemed, had gotten his due.
* * *
Lucien meant to drive home again, but he found himself in Phoebe Carlisle’s driveway. As he sat in the car trying to get his head right, he saw Theia’s face appear at the window and disappear again. After a moment, the door opened, and Theia held the screen door for him, waiting.
He stepped out of the car and moved toward her, feeling like he was drowning in quicksand. If he could just get to her, he could keep his head above the mire. There was no welcoming smile, no forgiveness when he reached her, but she let him in, and Lucien clung to her, unable to move. His body began to shake, he realized with some horror, with silent sobs.
“Lucien?” Theia’s hand hovered on his hair. “What is it? What’s happened?”
He shook his head, not trusting himself to speak. He felt so raw right now that if he dared open his mouth, every cry he’d kept inside since childhood would come pouring out.
“Come inside.” Theia drew his arms down to his sides and led him in, steering him to the little pleather-and-wood love seat. Lucien stroked the artificial texture of the vinyl, trying to stop thinking about Mrs. Castillo’s sobs. He wasn’t crying tears. Not yet. Maybe he could still get himself together and start acting like a man.
He heard his father’s voice saying it: Stop crying like a girl and start acting like a man. He’d been eight years old. He’d forgotten that day. It was like it had never happened. Until now.
“I went back. I went back to the house, and it didn’t matter. Nothing matters.”
“What do you mean? To Mrs. Castillo’s house?”
Lucien closed his eyes and nodded. “I went to get the vial back. I thought I could make a difference and change something. I thought I could do the right thing for once. She was so happy when I told her she didn’t have to take it.” His voice broke, and he dug his nails into his palms. “But it was too late. Somehow, they knew what I was going to do. Someone knew. The cleaning crew. I don’t know...”
He was quiet again for so long that Theia must have thought he was sleeping, and she shook his shoulder gently.
“Lucien?”
He exhaled slowly. “It was Rosa. The old woman. Someone gave it to her. They collected the old woman’s soul while she was sleeping. My act of rebellion, my grand gesture...it was just a joke.”
“Oh, Lucien.”
“You were right about me.”
“Right? About what?”
“Whatever it was you thought when you first met me. Whatever you thought about me today after what you witnessed. I’m garbage.”
“You are not garbage, and that isn’t what I thought.” Theia held his gaze, and Lucien looked away, but she turned his face toward her with both hands. “You’re a human being. You’re allowed to make mistakes.”
Lucien laughed and then couldn’t be sure whether he was laughing at “human being” or “mistakes,” which gave his laughter a slightly hysterical edge.
Theia drew him into her arms, resting his head on her shoulder, and he remembered belatedly that she was an empath. She’d known he was going to break before he did. And when he broke, it was like a crack in a dam bursting under the pressure of a lifetime of unshed tears.
He wept for his grandmother—the only connection he’d had to his mother, who’d never come back—at whose death his father had told him to “act like a man.” He wept for the souls he’d collected and the lives he’d seen ruined. And he wept for himself, knowing it was puerile and self-indulgent but unable to stop now that he’d started. Every loss, every wound came back to him, multiplying the ache in his chest, until he had nothing left.
“Lucien, it’s all right. You’ll be all right.” Soothing, meaningless platitudes, but from Theia’s lips, they were life preservers tossed into a turbulent sea. She might have said anything; it didn’t matter. The sound of her voice was his lifeline.
He raised his head, afraid to see in her face that she thought less of him now, but when he met her gaze, she seemed to truly see him as no one had before.
Theia brushed a tear from his cheek and leaned toward him, reaching for his mouth with hers. Their lips came together, and Lucien surrendered to that drowning feeling he’d experienced the first time they’d kissed. It was as if they’d both gone under but shared oxygen with their breath. As long as they stayed together, as long as Theia was close to him, he’d survive.
It didn’t even occur to him to want more. Kissing Theia was more satisfying than most sexual encounters he’d had. Maybe satisfying wasn’t exactly the word—more of a physical communion, perhaps. He wanted to keep doing it, to keep tasting the salt of his own tears on her mouth, to keep feeling the silk of her lips and the velvety texture of her tongue with his.
They ended up curled together on the love seat, Lucien resting his head on her breast. So maybe he wanted a little more. He grinned to himself against the soft curve beneath her cotton shirt. But he wasn’t going to push it right now. He liked where they were, comfortable, not needing words. No pressure. He’d said it more than once, but it was true. He felt none when he was with her—no pressure to put on an act. Not the confident arrogance of the playboy or even the everyday simple, stupid stoicism of being a man. With Theia, he was just himself. And for the first time, that felt okay. Maybe she was right. Maybe he wasn’t entirely garbage.
“So what do I do now?” He hadn’t meant to say it aloud.
“Now?”
“How do I go on being Lucien Smok, heir to the Smok fortune and all that comes with it?” He shook his head. “Don’t worry. Rhetorical question.”
“You’ve already made a start. Going after rogue creatures isn’t exactly playing by Smok rules.”
“I collect those souls, too, though. So maybe it’s just me indulging my own need to feel self-righteous. Going after people like Leo.”
“You said an anonymous source gave you his name. I think I have an idea who that might be.”
Lucien propped his elbow on the couch cushion. “Who?”
“Carter Hamilton. It can’t be a coincidence that he crashed Phoebe’s wedding at the same time you did. It would be in his interest to have someone else do his dirty work and take down my family and the people close to us.”
“Hamilton.” Lucien nodded slowly. “That would make sense. We’ve done a lot of cleanup for him over the years. He knows my father fairly well. I’ve never met him, but if he was looking for a way to wreak some havoc, he’d only have to go to Polly’s to get information about what I do.”
“What is that place, exactly? Did you really meet a client there?”
Lucien sighed and straightened. He wasn’t sure why he’d lied to her before.
“Polly...is my ex-girlfriend. She owns the club. It’s a hangout for unnatural people. Enhanced people. And people pay her for information. She’s one of my key sources.”
Theia sat up beside him. “What kind of enhanced people?”
Lucien met her gaze. “Vampires. Werewolves. Valkyries.”
“Valkyries?”
“Leo used to spend time there some years ago, according to Polly. With a rogue Valkyrie.”
Recognition dawned in Theia’s eyes. “Faye.” She paused, brow wrinkling. “Wait...she and Leo were here in Sedona years ago?”
“The club can be entered from anywhere in the world. It’s sort of...timeless. Not exactly fixed in time and space.”
“Not exactly? How does that work?”
Lucien shrugged. “You’d have to ask Polly. But I doubt she’d tell you.”
“And what about Polly? Is she...timeless?”
Lucien gave her a sidelong glance with a tentative smile. “Are you jealous of Polly?”
“Should I be?”
She was. The realization made his heart do a little flip. Jealousy meant she was invested in him. In this. It meant there was a “this.” He’d never imagined a relationship was something he wanted. The warm glow at the idea that he had one surprised him.
“There’s nothing between me and Polly anymore. She’s just a friend. And I suppose, in answer to your question, she is a bit timeless. The club is a sort of extension of her, a web or a net she sends out to draw in people who interest her.”
“A web? What is she, a were-spider?”
Lucien laughed at the idea. “No. Polly...is a siren.”
Chapter 17
It took Theia a moment, her mind stuck on the image of a spinning light on top of a police car, before her eyes widened with understanding. “An actual siren? As in The Odyssey? As in luring men to their deaths?”
Lucien’s smile was wry. “I doubt she’s ever lured any man to his death—unless he went willingly—but, yes, those sirens.”
Theia wasn’t sure she wanted to know what he meant by that middle bit. She was going to have to compare notes with Rhea. Which was worse as an intimidating ex, a siren or a Valkyrie? She imagined a siren’s experience would be impossible to compete with—even if Theia had any experience.
Lucien started to say something, but his phone interrupted. “Damn. Another haunting. I’m starting to feel like Bill Murray.”
Theia rose as he did. “Do you usually have this much business?”
“No. Not at all.” Lucien frowned. “It’s starting to seem a little weird. Like something’s stirred up the dead around here.”
The last time something had stirred up the dead in Sedona, it had been Carter Hamilton.
“Lucy’s already on it, so hopefully this will be an easy one. As soon as we finish up, I’ll give you a call. Speaking of which, I’d better get your number in here.” He glanced up with a sly half smile once he’d entered the number she gave him. “So you were just kidding about me shoving the job up my ass, right? I’m going to see you there tomorrow?”
Theia laughed. “I have a final in the morning, but I’ll be there in the afternoon. You can consider your ass safe.”
As he pulled out onto the drive and Theia closed the door, he texted her with an emoji: a smooching heart.
An irritated meow came from the guest room, accompanied by a perturbed doorknob rattle. She’d forgotten to let Glum out after stashing him to open the front door.
Theia stepped aside for his flounce after releasing him. “Sorry, buddy. Sucks to be thumbless.”
He gave her a condescending stare before trotting to his window spot and peering out belatedly after the “intruder.”
As she started to text Rhea about her bizarre afternoon, her phone rang, Rhea’s photo popping up on the screen. “Speak of the devil,” she answered.
“And how did you know I was going to do that?”
Theia took the phone to the papasan. “Do what?”
“Speak of the devil. I found out something interesting from Ione.”
“You’ve lost me.”
“She called to check on me. I don’t think she trusts me with a millionaire’s house. And I happened to mention the incident with Lucien the other night—”
“Rhe.”
“I had to. I need to get some of the lamps on the walkway fixed and replace a windowpane, thanks to Oliver Queen. And she gave me an earful about the family Smok. Apparently, they go back to the time of Madeleine Marchant, and they’re into some very sketchy things.”
“I know that. That’s the research I was doing at Rafe’s dad’s place.”
“You know? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I don’t know.” And, honestly, she didn’t, now that she thought about it. It was like she’d gotten so used to keeping things from Rhea that it was becoming a habit.
“Did you also know that Lucien has a nickname among the magical community?”
“No. What?”
“Little Lucifer.”
Theia snorted. He was hardly little.
“It seems the Smok family has a reputation for making infernal deals. Like crossroads kinds of deals.” She
paused. “Theia Dawn. Are you going to tell me you knew about that, too?”
“I only found out this afternoon. I went with Lucien on a consulting job and witnessed a deal in action. It wasn’t pretty.”
“And that’s okay with you?”
“No, of course it isn’t. And I told him that and made him take me home. But then he went back to the client and tried to nullify the deal and found out it was too late. You should have seen him when he showed up here. He was absolutely wrecked.”
Rhea was quiet for a moment. “You’re starting to worry me.”
“There’s nothing to worry about.”
“You’re working for Smok Biotech, and you’re going with Lucien on his creepy crossroads client calls.”
“I haven’t actually started working for Smok.”
“Because it’s the weekend. Are you taking the job or aren’t you?”
“Maybe. Yes. So?”
“Theia, your boyfriend collects souls.”
“So does yours.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
“Isn’t it?”
Rhea sighed. “We’re not talking about Leo Ström. We’re talking about Lucien Smo—Oh, wow. LS? You couldn’t even get your own initials. You always have to copy me.”
Theia couldn’t resist needling her. “Actually, you’re the one who copied me. I dated Leo first, if you recall.”
“Ouch. I can’t believe you went there. Seriously, though, infernal deals aside, Lucien doesn’t exactly have a sterling reputation. I talked to Leo about that place you mentioned. Polly’s Grotto? He’s heard of it, all right.”
“From when he used to go there with Faye.”
She could almost hear Rhea’s mouth drop open in indignation. “What the hell, Theia? Have your visions gotten spooky accurate lately, or are you becoming a pathological liar?”
There was a distinct chance the answer to that entire question was “Yes.”