by Kat Bellamy
“Thank you so much,” Jason said, his voice a bit frailer than it had been. Colt could tell the pain had sobered him up, but it was probably a mercy that he’d been trashed for the affair, even if that was why he’d ended up hurt in the first place.
Colt vowed to himself that he was replacing all his glasses with plastic.
“It’s no trouble at all. Glad to finally meet the famous Jason,” he said, standing. “All Colt ever does is talk about you.”
“If that’s true, then you have my undying sympathy,” Jason said dryly. He moved to stand and Colt reached to steady him.
“Easy.”
“Well, I see you’re in good hands,” Stan said, nodding to Colt. “Just change the bandages before bed and in the morning when you wake up. Oh, and one more bit of medical advice as your temporary physician,” he said, raising a finger as if to punctuate the importance of what he was about to say.
“What is it?” Jason asked, wide-eyed.
“Don’t kneel on glass. They’ve done studies, it’s terrible for you,” Stan said with his usual deadpan delivery.
Jason groaned. “I’ll try to remember that.”
Colt laughed. “I’ll show you out. Jay, you good for a minute?”
“I’ll be here, basking in my humiliation,” Jason called, waving them off.
Colt waited until he was alone with Stan in the hall to say, “I can’t thank you enough for coming. Not just for stitching him up, either. For a minute there, I thought…” He couldn’t bring himself to put the fear into words.
“I know. That’s why tonight’s a blessing in disguise,” said Stan. “If it hadn’t happened, you’d always wonder and that’s a hell of a thing to be afraid of when you love someone.”
“Yeah.” Colt cleared his throat. “Well, thanks.”
“You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for, son,” Stan said, patting him on the shoulder. “You just need to believe it and you’ll make a big difference in this world. A good one.”
“Right now, I’m just focused on trying not to fuck it up,” Colt admitted. He frowned, remembering the conversation he’d been having with Jason before the accident. “Carver is onto us. Wilbur, too, but he just thinks it’s a mob thing. I think Carver knows there’s something else going on.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised. He’s a smart man.”
“Not smart enough to keep from getting himself killed. Jason just invited me to a last-minute shindig the mayor conveniently forgot to tell Carver about until this morning.”
“Now that is concerning. Especially given the fact that the mayor is a ghoul.”
“I figured. What do we do?”
Stan paused to think about it. “I’ll talk to Roland and try to find out what’s going on.”
“Should we try to stop it?”
“The event? I doubt you’ll have much luck with that. Even if you could somehow prevent Carver from attending, it would only prove to anyone who wants him dead that he’s a threat.”
“Yeah. Good point. I’ll be there, so I can keep an eye on things.”
Stan nodded. “I’ll try to get an invitation as well. Assuming my brother-in-law isn’t in on it, maybe there’s something he can do.”
“That’s a big if.”
Stan smiled. “Welcome to the Kinship, Colt. The line between friend and foe is hair-thin.”
Chapter 24
Attending formal events in general was Colt’s idea of hell, so the fact that Andrew Wilbur and an undetermined number of high-ranking ghouls would be in attendance was just icing on the shit cake. While Jason was a bundle of nerves over his assistant duties for the evening, Colt was more focused on keeping his boyfriend’s boss alive through dinner.
For such an influential group in the ghoul world, the Moreau family kept a low profile in human society. So far, the only people Colt had met who recognized the name were other ghouls. Nonetheless, he found himself scanning the room for anyone who looked like they might belong to the illustrious Alpha clan.
There was no shortage of well-dressed men and women laughing gaily as they sipped cocktails and chattered about one inane topic or another. Colt had finally figured out that the official excuse for boiling crustaceans and carving circus animals out of massive blocks of ice was a fundraiser for the education committee, but it seemed to Colt that the elite class of Providence didn’t need much of an excuse to indulge in decadence.
According to Stan, Roland was adamant that if there was a plan to take Carver out, he didn’t know about it. While Colt wasn’t sure he trusted the Sheriff, he decided to trust Stan’s judgment.
Not that he had much of a choice.
Colt spotted Jason across the room and tried to ignore the irrational twinge of jealousy that flared up as he saw his boyfriend leaning in to whisper something to a very dapper looking Andrew Wilbur. He reminded himself that schmoozing at parties and kissing up to powerful assholes was going to be a significant part of Jason’s life from then on, so he might as well get used to it.
Colt took a seat at the bar where he could scan the entire room without looking out of place and ordered a rusty nail. The alcohol did nothing for him, but the habit was comforting in its own way. Across the room, he caught sight of Stan and Susan mingling with another couple Colt was fairly sure were human.
Try as he might, he couldn’t pick out any of the guests who looked ready to commit an assassination. To be fair, most ghouls seemed to take human life with the casual air of a sunbather squashing a mosquito on her arm, but his job was to look out for anything suspicious, and so far, there wasn’t anything to look at.
“Hey there, handsome.”
The familiar female voice grated against Colt’s nerves, despite its sultry quality. He turned to find Evelyn leaning against the bar in a sapphire dress tight enough to be an advertisement for her personal trainer.
“If it isn’t the devil in a blue dress,” Colt mumbled into his drink.
“You know, most ghouls address me with a bit more respect,” she said, taking the stool next to him. She leaned back on the bar and draped one leg over the other to reveal the slit that ran a bit too far up for civilized company. During the brief phase Colt had spent trying to date when he was convinced he’d never stand a chance with Jason, he might have found a woman like Evelyn attractive. Knowing who she was and what she’d done to Chuck in his final moments, her close proximity made his skin crawl and the scent of her vanilla perfume made his stomach churn.
“Guess I’m just a dumb fledgling.”
“That you are,” she mused. “That’s why you’re so useful.”
“Pardon?”
Evelyn glanced over at him, her hair falling over her right eye like a golden curtain. “There’s something I’ve been planning for a long time now, and you’re the perfect person to help me with it.”
Colt’s heart beat a little faster. Was this it? Given her close connection to Vincent Moreau, Colt wasn’t all that surprised that Evelyn was involved in the plan to kill Carver, but he hadn’t expected her to come out and admit it. Especially not to him. “What makes you think I’m interested in helping you do shit?” he asked, deciding to play it cool for the moment.
At least, as cool as he could be around the woman who’d killed Chuck.
Her crimson lips tilted in amusement. “Because I know you killed Trace Levitt and I can prove it. Not that I’d need to,” she said, casually sipping her martini. “You’re nobody and I’m Vincent Moreau’s woman. It’s not even a matter of your word against mine. The only words I’d have to say are, “kill him” and you’d be this month’s tribute.”
Colt managed to keep a blank face. There was a chance Evelyn was bluffing, but even if she was, she was right. She held all the power and the only sway he had in her world would put the Browns in her crosshairs.
“You want Liam Carver dead that badly?” he asked stiffly. “Even knowing that it’ll tear this city apart and bring the Assembly down on your head the same as everyone else’s?”
Confusion flickered across Evelyn’s lovely if wicked features. “Carver? What would I want with that old fool?”
“I thought…” Colt trailed off, realizing he’d be better off not giving her more to blackmail him with. “I’m sorry, what is it you want from me exactly?”
“I want you to finish what you already started,” she replied calmly, setting her drink down. “I know you fed on Trace’s flesh.” Before Colt could ask the question on his mind, she added, “You weren’t the only ghouls enjoying the great outdoors that day. A hunter came to me in hopes of earning favor with Vincent, and you’re lucky he did.”
“Who?” Colt asked gruffly.
“It doesn’t matter. He’s dead now.”
“What? How?”
“I killed him,” she replied matter-of-factly, waving the bartender down for another drink. “To protect you.”
Colt watched Evelyn and realized every move the woman made was purposeful, calculated. Not a single hair was out of place, and nothing she did or said was superfluous. Maybe the Moreaus were at the top of the food chain, but she was without a doubt the deadliest predator in the room. “Why would you do that?”
He knew he was playing into her game by asking the questions she wanted him to ask, but at the moment, he didn’t have any other move that wouldn’t endanger Jason and the Browns, not to mention getting himself killed.
“Like I said, there’s something I want you to do and you’re the best person for the job.”
“I’m a fledgling, and an orphan. I’m not even officially part of an echelon.”
“Exactly. Your usefulness lies within your uselessness,” she said sweetly.
“You’re gonna need to explain more clearly for the useless idiot.”
“By now, I’m sure you’re aware of what the penalty is for consuming another ghoul’s flesh?”
“Ending up on your boyfriend’s menu, if I recall correctly.”
Evelyn smirked. “The Moreaus have been a pestilence on this city for the last century, but my inbred lover is the concentrated essence of every putrid trait in their rotten line,” she said, pulling the cherry from the bottom of her drink by its stem. She popped the syrupy fruit into her mouth and her pearl white teeth snapped down on it. She dropped the stem into the glass and licked off her fingers. “It’s time they were disposed of, and to do that, I need an Alpha to install in his place.”
“But why me?” Colt asked once his surprise enabled him to speak. “Surely there are better candidates to choose from.”
“Vincent is paranoid. Half the ghouls in this city are already on his shit list and he’s well aware that there’s a movement to depose him from his undeserved throne,” she said nonchalantly.
“Doesn’t sound all that paranoid to me,” Colt admitted.
“Perhaps not. In any case, I need someone who’s insignificant enough not to show up on his radar.”
“A nobody,” Colt echoed. “Yeah, I get it. But I didn’t eat enough of Trace to become an Alpha. From what I’ve heard, it’s more of a long-term thing.”
“I’ll take care of the supply. You just worry about keeping to yourself and looking dumb and pretty.”
Colt frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Just like that,” she purred, patting his cheek. She slipped off her stool and leaned in, squeezing Colt’s shoulder. “Meet me in the men’s room in ten minutes.”
Colt watched in confusion as she disappeared through the crowd.
“There you are,” Jason said, popping up behind Colt. “Who was that woman you were talking to?”
Colt spun around to face him. “No one. Just a friend of Susan’s,” he said stiffly. “How’s Carver?”
“He’s fine. Why wouldn’t he be?”
“No reason,” Colt muttered, glancing over at the DA, who was very much still alive and seemed to have a good chance of staying that way, as long as he didn’t develop a sudden allergy to the shellfish he was piling onto his plate.
“I’m sorry I’ve been so busy,” Jason said with a sigh. “Andrew’s having me run all over the place.”
“Hey, I’m just here for moral support. You know the whole suit and tie thing isn’t my thing.”
“I know,” Jason smiled, stepping a bit closer. “You know, you make an even better boyfriend than friend.”
“Guess I got two promotions,” Colt teased, glancing up in hopes of spotting Evelyn again.
“Is something wrong?” Jason asked, tilting his head. “You seem distracted.”
“No. Just had a few too many drinks and I gotta take a leak. Any idea which door leads to the bathroom?”
Jason rolled his eyes, pointing across the room. “Down that corridor, to the left. Oh, shit, that reporter from the Post is hassling Carver again, I’d better go.”
“Good luck,” Colt called before making a beeline for the corridor Jason had pointed out. The hallway was dark in comparison to the brightly lit party room, but sure enough, the men’s room was at the very end. He didn’t see any sign of the women’s room, but Evelyn didn’t seem like the type to respect boundaries, so he figured he’d give it a shot. Sure enough, she was standing at the sink waiting for him.
“About time,” she said, pulling Colt in and locking the door. She opened the stall across from them and a half-conscious man collapsed on the floor, his arms bound behind his back and his mouth stuffed with a thick leather bondage gag. His muffled cries of indignation and panic made it clear Colt hadn’t just walked in on Evelyn’s kink.
“Who the fuck is that?”
“Relax, it’s a ghoul,” she said, folding her arms. “I know how sensitive you are about humans, and I wouldn’t dream of upsetting my prize fighter.”
“Why’d you tie him up? Who is he?”
“He’s dinner. That’s all you need to know.”
The other ghoul started struggling in renewed earnest as he tried to get to his knees. Evelyn had either drugged him or decided to target him because he was already drunk on blood. The latter prospect made Colt feel slightly less bad for him.
“Are you crazy? I’m not gonna kill some random guy so you can fuck over your --”
Evelyn brushed past him and into the stall. She removed the top of the tank on the back of the toilet and emerged with a steel machete the length of her arm. She lopped off the struggling ghoul’s head before Colt could react.
Colt watched in horror as the ghoul’s head rolled across the floor and stopped against the base of the sink. He’d expected a spray of blood, given his experience with period pieces and horror movies, but instead, blood pulsed out of the man’s severed neck with the anticlimactic force of water left in a garden hose after the faucet was turned off.
“What the fuck?”
“Oh, don’t be so dramatic. He was a dick, if that makes you feel any better.”
“It doesn’t,” Colt snapped. The acrid scent of ghoul blood filled the room, but Evelyn was already stuffing her shawl underneath the crack in the door. He could only assume it was to keep from drawing any more attention to them.
“Either way, he’s dead now. Eat or I’ll run out of here screaming like a little bitch and the Browns can face the consequences for sheltering an antisocial cannibal.”
“Lady, I say this as someone who had a shrink from kindergarten on, but you are outta your goddamn mind.”
Evelyn smiled benignly. “Hurry up. Your food’s getting cold, and at the rate the wealthy drink, we won’t be alone in here for long.”
Colt stared down at the beheaded corpse, which was just about the least appetizing thing he’d ever laid eyes on, and reluctantly crouched down next to it. He cast a last glance up at Evelyn in hopes that she’d change her mind, but she nodded encouragingly.
Colt grimaced and raised the dead ghoul’s hand. Both times he’d eaten living flesh, instinct had taken over and he’d gone straight for the jugular, but he wasn’t about to take a bite out of something that looked like a cartoon ham. He rolled up the stra
nger’s sleeve, closed his eyes and tried not to breathe before chomping down. The blood that filled his mouth was even more putrid than he remembered Trace’s being, and he barely managed to tear off a piece of flesh without gagging. He swallowed and a detached section of artery wiggled down his throat, making him retch.
“Try not to breathe, it’ll just make it harder,” Evelyn coached, as if she had practice. She watched in casual detachment, offering the odd word of advice as Colt forced himself to feed. The bizarre turn the night had taken was enough to put him into a state of denial and if he told himself it was all just the freakiest dream he’d ever had, it was a little easier to detach from his body. By the time the ghoul’s forearm was mostly bone and sinew, he’d reached his limit.
“I can’t,” he choked, clamping a hand over his mouth in a desperate attempt to keep the morbid flesh down.
It struck him as funnier than it probably should have that he was feeling the way he should have felt when it came to eating human flesh, but he knew it was probably just the hysteria setting in.
“I’ll take care of the rest,” Evelyn said, slipping her phone from her purse. “You get cleaned up.”
Colt stared at the partially eaten corpse and wasn’t sure whether he should feel relieved that Evelyn seemed to have no interest in consuming it or not. “What are you doing?”
“Calling the cleanup crew.”
“Who else knows about this?”
“The less you know, the better. There are few of us as it is, and we can only do what we do by keeping a low profile.”
“You’re part of the resistance Stan talked about, aren’t you?”
Evelyn cocked an eyebrow. “Resistance? Honey, I work for the Assembly. This is bigger and more complicated than you have the capacity to understand--no offense.”
“None taken,” Colt muttered, leaning over the sink to wash his mouth out. Somehow, he’d managed not to get more than a speck of blood on his suit, but the black fabric hid it well enough. Keeping the flesh down was more of a struggle. He wasn’t sure whether it was his imagination or not, but he felt different. Different enough that he wondered if what he’d assumed was an adrenaline rush from saving Jason from Trace was really something else entirely. When he glanced up at the mirror to make sure he’d cleaned his face adequately, he saw the whites of his eyes turning red and the same black stain that crept into the veins on his hands whenever he shifted creeping up along his neck. He touched his skin and it felt hot.