He huffed, shaking his head and pouring more vodka in his glass.
Spencer joined him moments later, patting his shoulder. “Hey. I need to talk to you.”
“What about?”
“Outside. I want a smoke.”
Fitz followed him to a corner of the rooftop, as far away from the gathering as possible. Spencer offered a cigarette, but Fitz declined.
His friend flicked his metal lighter, cupped a hand around his cigarette and lit it, taking a long drag. “The gods were kind. Gaelen is a stunner. How did you two meet?”
“On the roof of Guardian Hospital.”
Spencer chuckled. “You’re kidding. What was she doing up there?”
“Saving my soul,” Fitz replied with a half-smile.
“Ah. Man, I envy you. Starting to believe my fated doesn’t exist. You don’t want to think you’re one of those fatebloods who never find theirs, but after three hundred years, how can I not? The gods bless me with everything but her.” He looked off in the distance, slightly shaking his head and taking a drag. As he exhaled, he said, “There’s a rumor going around with your name on it. Thought you should know.”
Fitz suppressed the need to groan. “You know I don’t give much thought to rumors.”
“For the petty shit, yes. This isn’t petty. People are saying you’re a supporter. For Marex Daulton.”
That gave Fitz pause. “That probably started because he reached out to me a few weeks ago, but never showed up for our rendezvous, which really pissed off the bounty hunter.” A lie he had to tell. He switched the focus. “Word is, he was framed by humans. I believe it.”
“So you are a supporter?” Spencer asked.
That wasn’t exactly accurate. Fitz hadn’t chosen a side. You were either a quiet campaigner for Marex’s cause or a loud protester, and there was very little tolerance for someone who was neutral. Undecided automatically meant you were on Marex’s side, even if you didn’t voice it. “All I know is the logic makes sense, Spencer. Why would Daulton spend two decades underground, with a target on his back, on the run from the UCC, if his end game was to murder Lionel Rothwaite? What the hell for? What would that achieve? Nothing, except a catastrophic loss of his support and a first-class seat to execution. He didn’t do it.”
Spencer’s brows drew together as he exhaled the smoke. “How do you know for sure he was framed by humans?”
He shrugged. “Instinct.” No one could know he actually spoke to Marex. That would draw the eye of the UCC his way, and now that he had his fated, he would do everything in his power to avoid that. Even though he’d sent Marex his father’s Centurias key, he wanted as much distance between him and the famous vampire as possible. Fitz was glad Spencer hadn’t asked from whom he heard about the human frame-up.
His friend lowered his voice. “I think I’m on Marex’s side.”
“Think or know?”
Spencer relented. “Know.”
Respect for his friend went up a notch, if only for the courage it took to admit it. “Since when?”
“Since he broke out of the UCC prison. Word is he got help from another vampire with a fast car and stayed overnight with some shifter pack in one of their safehouses. That takes guts, Fitz. Zo told me Marex found his fated too, and she’s spearheading his cause, nearly got mauled by a wolf, and survived. They’re that devoted to it.”
He stole another drag from his cigarette. “I’ve never stood up for anything. For nearly three centuries I’ve been living this life of underworld luxury and for what? When I die, what will others say? They’ll say I was nice to shadows and threw epic parties.”
Spencer worried what others thought, even though actions he took—like taking in shadows when they had no one to turn to—was quite a big deal among their kind. Shadows were the low class of vampires, even if they had money. They were treated like wannabes and groupies, and only a select few had earned any respect or elevated status. Most, if not all of the shadows in New York, had Spencer to thank for that privilege. Zo included.
“What’s with you, Spence? Do you plan on ascending sometime soon?” Fitz joked.
“No, but I am going to join them. Which is why I wanted to talk to you in private.”
Fitz’s gut dipped. “What exactly do you mean, you want to join?”
“There’s a hush-hush fundraiser happening in a few days. Marex is going to be there and he’s bringing a shifter pack leader with him. They’re trying to raise money for when he goes to the Centurias.”
“And you want to go to it?” All Fitz could picture was a trap. “Tell me you know what you’re doing. Cheering him on from the background is one thing, but actively participating in something that could get you killed is another.” Spencer was one of Fitz’s closest friends and cared about like a brother. “Once you go down this path, there might not be any way to come back.”
But his mind was already made up, Fitz could tell. Spencer looked down, put out his cigarette in the ashtray, the smoke coming out of his aristocratic nose. “I know what I’m doing. The right thing for once, instead of the safe thing.”
“Why don’t you just wire Marex the money?” There had to be a way Spencer could support the cause without showing his face.
“Because that’s a coward’s contribution in my eyes. I want to know what else I can do. Maybe once others see how serious I am, more will join. This shifter war needs to be shut down.” He set a hand on Fitz’s shoulder. “Look. It’s different for you. You found your fated. When you go to the Centurias your allies will be begging to renew the contracts. Your parents left you everything because they trusted you. You have it all, Fitz. I don’t. I need this.”
If anyone at the Centurias found out Gaelen was a shadow and not a fateblood, all that prestige and alliances could come to a dire end. No one could know. Not even Spencer, even though he could be trusted. And he deserved Fitz’s support.
Spencer glanced at the window to see Zo looking at them curiously. “We should go back in—”
“Who’s going with you to the fundraiser?”
“No one. Why?”
That confirmed Fitz’s decision more. “I’m coming with you.”
“Really?” They walked back to the patio door. “Damn, Fitz. You’re the best. Going to bring Gaelen, too?”
Fuck no. Gaelen had no idea about the shifter/vampire conflict, since there was so much she had to know, before he got into the complicated, dark stuff. “I want to keep her out of this. Don’t tell her either. I’ll explain it to her later.”
“You got it.” Spencer slapped his back. “Tuesday at nine. I’ll meet you outside your building.”
When they left the party a couple hours later, Gaelen’s mood had lifted considerably. When Fitz had determined it was time to go, she exhibited a reluctance to leave, and he was pleased to see she appeared to have had a good time.
“Your first underworld party,” he said when they walked in the loft. “What did you think?”
“That it was a lot tamer than I imagined. Like you said.”
He chuckled, taking off his jacket. “They can get much crazier, believe me. We’ll work our way up to that.”
“Jasmine suggested you take me to Morsha’s.”
“Morsha’s? Ha. No.”
Gaelen turned on a heel, throwing her jacket to land perfectly on the back of a chair. “Oh, really? What? Do I need to be a complete vampire savant before I can go?”
“Yes.”
She gaped at the way he didn’t hesitate to answer. “Seriously?”
“It’s a serious club.”
“Well, now I’m beyond curious. I’m really going to study so you can take me.”
Fitz chuckled, charmed by her more and more every day. For him to take her to a place like Morsha’s, she had to fully ingratiate herself as vampiress, and that unfortunately included dimming some of her bright-eyed eagerness.
“Study what, exactly? We don’t have a vampire encyclopedia laying around to be memorized.” He pulled
her in his arms. “You’re not a scholar, baby. You’re a vampiress. Learning is experiencing. Don’t worry. We have plenty of time to make our way to Morsha’s club. It’s in upstate New York, in Obsidian. A lot of vampires up there. I’ll take you someday.”
“Well. I feel like you’re underestimating me.” A glow crossed over her gaze. “I was meant to be a vampiress, but for whatever reason, the gods waited until now to make it happen. I may be new to the immortal life, but that doesn’t mean I can’t handle all it has to offer sooner than you think.”
Staring down into her beautiful eyes, Fitz couldn’t argue, sensing she could be right.
Six
A few days later, after he and Gaelen returned from a play she’d been eager to see, Fitz got a reminder message from Spencer about attending the fundraiser for Marex Daulton.
Part of him had hoped his friend would either forget about the event or decide not to go in the end, but it was obvious Spencer wouldn’t miss it. It crossed Fitz’s mind to beg off. There were just so many reasons he shouldn’t go. Nevertheless, he’d offered to go with him for support—and maybe a little curiosity—so he would keep his commitment.
He deliberately kept it from Gaelen until that night and downplayed the reason they were meeting up as more of a casual social thing. An avocado-sized ball sat in the pit of his stomach as he changed from his suit to his leather jacket. While he wasn’t lying outright about his plans, he wasn’t being completely truthful either. His guilt was spared from growing too large by telling himself that he’d tell her all about the contention with shifters, Marex’s cause, and his role with both when he had time to explain.
She smiled up at him from the sofa when he bent down to kiss her goodbye.
“How long do you think you’ll be gone?” Gaelen asked after lingering her lips on his, making him wish he could stay in.
“By dawn, I promise.”
When he met up with Spencer downstairs, he wasn’t as apprehensive about going as he’d initially been. “Where is this taking place exactly?” Fitz asked his friend as he followed him down the subway stairs. “Not in Jersey, I hope.”
Spencer chuckled. “We’re getting on a train, but we aren’t going anywhere.”
“Can you explain how that works?”
“A train out of commission, in one of the abandoned tunnels.”
The deeper they went, the more concerned Fitz became, looking over his shoulder every few seconds, preparing himself for a blitz attack from behind. Spencer, on the other hand, practically had a spring in his step as they advanced down a tunnel under construction.
Eventually, they came upon an out-of-commission train, though there was no one about to indicate there was any kind of congregating going on, let alone a rally for Daulton. Fitz held his tongue, only silenced by Spencer’s fearless, confident lead, as if he’d done this sort of thing a hundred times before. He’d never seen his friend so eager. Spencer pulled apart the train’s doors and turned left. They walked through three cars, exited the train, and entered another.
“By the fucking gods, Spencer, I feel like we’re going to the center of the earth.”
“They’re being extra cautious,” his friend said, then pointed. “It’s the next one.”
Fitz looked to see a singular light bulb hanging off the train ahead of them, the windows blacked out, but voices could be heard. His pulse kicked up a notch, leaving him almost wishing he had brought Gaelen along, feeling so far from her, and regretful for omitting what he was really up to that night.
It was too late to turn back now.
Just then a bearded shifter came out of the shadows, glaring at them. “Names.”
Spencer halted, caught off guard, raising his hands. “Spencer Hagen. Fitzgerald McEvoy.”
The man’s eyes glowed that familiar pale yellow of a grown male shifter. “Password. Or you don’t go another step, vampire.”
“What? I wasn’t told of a password.”
“Then turn around.” He stepped toward Spencer, as though daring him to fight about it.
Spencer wasn’t thwarted. “Look. I practically had to swear to sign over my life to Daulton to even get directions to this place—”
“The password was put in place as the final verification.”
“Fine. Password one, two, three, four, hashtag you’re an asshole.”
“Are you going to be a problem?” The delight in the man’s tone told them he would relish some sort of problem.
Seeing he would have to step in, Fitz came to Spencer’s side. “Is Marex’s fated here, too? Miss Nadine?” The guy’s eyes roved to him. He didn’t reply, but Fitz knew the answer was yes. “She’ll vouch for us. Would you please tell her Fitz McEvoy is here, with a guest? We’ll wait.” He purposely looked around the dark, knowing the shifter wasn’t the only one standing sentinel. “With all eyes on us.”
The man gave a reluctant gruff and went inside the train.
Spencer glanced at him. “You know Marex’s fated?”
“We’ve met.”
“Is she likely to be fond of that meeting?”
Since I gave them a key to the Centurias, she should be. “Guess we’ll see.”
Moments later, instead of the bearded shifter coming out, it was the Nadine herself, casting a bright smile as she peeked her head out, a welcoming contrast to the tension and darkness out there. She came down the steps, dressed in all black with a gold necklace that dangled down to her stomach, its color matching her red-gold hair.
She smiled and kissed his cheek. “Fitz. Forgot your password? I thought it was a silly idea anyway. Not much of a security measure if everyone knows it.”
Whatever nerves that had been hassled by the long, mysterious walk down there were settled by Nadine’s amusingly light demeanor. Much different from the first time they met. It was understandable. At the time she must’ve been cynical about any support for Marex, and now with growing numbers behind him and a key to the Centurias, it was evident she felt more secure. Especially with more and more shifters behind them, literally and figuratively.
“You seem different,” she observed, looking him up and down. “Your sensa is…warming.”
“What was it the night we met?”
“Black ice.”
He laughed. She wasn’t far off the mark. “I found my fated that night, but I didn’t avow her until after I’d spoken to you and Marex. She’s probably the difference.”
She showed genuine pleasure to hear it. “That’s amazing.”
“If you needed money, you could’ve just asked me,” he told her sotto voce, returning the kiss on the cheek. “You didn’t have to put this on.”
She pulled back. “We could’ve asked quite a few millionaires, but money isn’t the point.”
“It isn’t?” Money, in his experience, was always the point.
“We need it, yes, but like I said, if that was all we needed, we wouldn’t be here.” She looked around. “We want everyone who stands with us to feel a part of them is invested. Some do it by offering neutral ground for shifters and vampires to meet. Some let us know when the UCC makes a move. Some gather intelligence about the humans that framed Marex. And some just want to give money. It’s important to show ourselves once in a while too, so my fated doesn’t diminish into nothing but a myth and a rumor.”
Spencer stepped forward, stars in his eyes. “That would never happen.” Nadine turned, and he lightly kissed her hand as though she was a queen. In a way, she kind of was. “Spencer Hagen.”
They heard the groans from the shifters, who tended to be disgusted at gallant but standard vampire greetings.
Nadine was quick to chastise. “Simmer down, guys. It’s nothing you’ve never seen before.” She air-kissed his cheek. “Nice to meet you, Spencer. Any friend of Fitz’s…” She looped one arm in Fitz’s and one in Spencer’s. “In the train. Marex is about to go up.”
Once inside, Nadine went up front, and he and Spencer remained at the back. The train’s seats had bee
n removed, so it was standing room only. Quite the turn out. He looked around to see if he saw any familiar faces. He saw two, but they were little more than acquaintances, and Fitz didn’t feel it was necessary to approach them. After all, this wasn’t a social hour.
Strange. No one appeared to be nervous or concerned about the fact they were crammed in a narrow space with nowhere to sit. Or moreover, nowhere to run if UCC soldiers charged the tunnel. Perhaps the extra protection of the shifters subtracted the fear of what would happen should they get caught.
Just then, the voices became hushed around them.
Spencer bumped his arm. “That’s him, right?”
Fitz glanced up. “That’s him.”
All eyes faced forward when Marex Daulton entered from side door and stepped up on the dais, intimidating in size, his deep, gravelly voice resonant through the small space. “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you very much for coming. Nadine and I are humbled so many of you are willing to show your faces. Had we known the attendance would be this to this scale, we would’ve sought a more comfortable space. I was honestly only expecting a dozen, so, this is not only unforeseen, but inspiring. We all know what we’re risking by being here, so I promise to keep this brief.”
“You wouldn’t be here unless you truly believed an alliance—or at least a truce—with the shifters of the world is overdue. Most of you know I’ve been working for many years to make it so. We all have our reasons for wanting it, but to be blunt, they are unimportant. Just know that your reasons are all correct, and that you are obviously…” he swept a slow hand over the crowd, “not alone. Going forward, you never will be. Our numbers only continue to grow. There is no falling back.” He paused. “Let me tell you something you may have already realized yourselves. Humans thrive on war. Whether it’s about money, politics, land, civil liberties, drugs, or whatever, they almost always aim for the extreme solution. They need it. We don’t.” He looked down and gestured to someone to join him. “Zander?”
The man stepped up next to Marex with a respectful nod before turning toward the captivated audience. His delivery came through less elegant than Marex’s but equaled in impact. “Times haven’t changed, people. But we sure as fuck have. Maybe back in the day when there was nothing else going on except pure survival, a war was what kept the lines drawn and the blood pumping. Now? With the humans outnumbering by the billions, there is a lot more we have to accomplish to keep our existence as shifters, and your existence as vampires, from becoming general knowledge. We all know what would happen if the masses found out their legends and myths were walking among them. Anarchy.” Following the agreeing nods around the space, he added, “Shifters and vampires at least have that one thing they can work on together first. Fuck the demons. They can figure it out for themselves.”
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