by A. L. Tyler
I stared at him, shaking my head. “You’re a good person, Nick.”
He didn’t smile as he ran one hand through his hair and scratched the back of his neck. “We don’t need any more like you, Driftwood.”
I relaxed into my seat, shaking my head. “What the hell did you tell them? How are we both still alive?”
Nick breathed slowly. He kept his eyes fixed on the road. “I told them the truth. I ran into you when we were both pursuing a murderer here. You’ve been in hiding, fearing for your life because there are criminals who want to kill you for foiling their heist of a very ancient and powerful magical store. You were threatened into helping them and you risked your own life to keep that power out of their hands.” He paused, as if daring me to contradict him. “And that you saved my life after we discovered a cell of hunters residing here. The Bleak is grateful to you for preventing the loss of two of their greatest resources.”
I think he intended the last part as a joke. I didn’t laugh.
“In any case,” he said slowly. “The Bleak are interested to hear your side of the events. But as you’ve been functionally working with me, and you haven’t run, the assumption is that you may resume your work with them if you so choose. The job comes with a full pardon for the crimes you’ve committed and an excellent treatment program for the mana burn you’re suffering. Treatments do exist, Driftwood. Just like hunters exist. There are some things the Bleak likes to play closer to the vest. This is a once-in-a-lifetime second chance, for both of us, as a rare thanks for starting the take down of a hunter cell that’s been evading capture for too long.”
He parked the car and got out, but I had to sit for a moment.
A second chance. A chance to treat my mana burn, and go back to work, and stop sleeping on piles of rags and worrying when my death would finally arrive.
A chance to live on the straight and narrow.
Nick opened my door and offered his hand. After three days without food, I was starving and a little shaky, so I accepted his help.
His hand was still cold.
“Um...” I started talking before he could step away and put distance between us. I needed to keep my voice low. I couldn’t believe I was about to say this to a handler, but I couldn’t lie to him.
Not anymore.
Nick’s warm hazel eyes hid everything of his true nature as a vampire. It was hard for me to think of him that way anymore. “Yes?”
“I can’t go back and work for them,” I said finally. “I can’t. I know what they did, and it’s wrong. They do a lot of things that are wrong. I was only a part of that system to get the power I needed to free my father—”
His eyes became grave for a moment, but then he nodded. “Not now. Just for now, I want you to feel this victory, so we’re not going to talk about whatever’s going to happen tomorrow. I want you to walk into this bar, and shake hands, and learn names, and make any exaggeration you want on how you took down Bailey Gosling. You’re Jette Driftwood. You’re the only person in history to be the top of your class at the academy and the top of the most wanted list. You stole magic and you did good with it. For the next few hours, that’s all we’re talking about. Come on.”
We walked into the bar.
Chapter 34
SIDE BY SIDE, WE STOOD inside the entrance. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but it was actually a pretty nice bar.
Large windows in the front let in what remained of the fading light outside, and pendant lights hung from the high ceilings gave an almost romantic glow to the dark, lacquered wood tables. The smell of hops and citrus mixed with something sweeter.
My ears were filled with the sounds of dangerous magic. Magic-stripping bullets and armored jackets, hex charms, healing antidotes, restraints, finding spells, energy totems, and more. It clashed in my ears.
It reminded me of my job. My old job.
My heart started to race. Nostalgia overtook me and adrenaline flooded my veins. I fought to keep the ancient magic at bay. I had spent too many dark nights wishing for the familiarity of these sounds and telling myself that I would probably die the day I ever heard them again.
There were people mingling around the bar and at far-flung tables. Nick nodded to the bartender and the lights lowered further. I heard the cloak of secrecy drop around the building, protecting it from anyone outside.
This space was off limits to humans now.
There were older men and younger men. Some women. They were dressed for every walk of life and paired off in odd combinations. A man in a bespoke suit sat at one table, sharing drinks and playing cards with a homeless man and an older librarian. Two women at the bar, one a steampunk teen and the other a hipster college student, and both chiming distant fae heritage. A fast food worker. A mall cop. People so tame and bubbly that they might have been school teachers. People so dour and hidden beneath leather and chains that they probably had open warrants.
They were jet-lagged. Exhausted. Laughing. Somber.
Grieving, but celebrating at the same time.
People stopped talking. They started looking.
A man in a Mr. Rogers vest and round glasses came up to me first, offering his hand. We shook. “Ms. Driftwood, I’m Allen Tack. Welcome back and thank you for your service. I met your father through work, once.”
I forced a smile. Three days ago, every single one of these Bleak-owned handlers had wanted to kill me. “I’m not sure that’s a good thing, but thanks.”
Alan didn’t seem put off at all. He smiled and gave Nick a nod before moving off.
“Be nice,” Nick growled lowly.
“I am being nice,” I responded. “If anyone brings up my dad again—”
“Got it. They won’t.”
He walked me down toward the bar. The next person to approach me was the college hipster girl.
“Jette Driftwood, a.k.a Janet Drifter.” She offered her hand with a wink. We shook. “It’s truly an honor to meet you. I was staking out your apartment, I guess, when the whole thing went down. I’m Leah Westing.”
I nodded with another fake smile. “Well, that’s not creepy at all. So nice to meet you.”
They came to us as space and time allowed. There were handlers and bounty hunters, but also informants and regular members of the community. Even a few sketchy characters who might not have been so comfortable with the company had a truce not been declared for the event.
They did shots in Joe and Farrow’s honor. I stuck to soda.
As the evening slowed, I sat at the bar with Nick. I was surrounded by people who were grateful to me for what I had done. They were celebrating me as much as they were remembering Joe and Farrow.
I kept waiting for someone to jump me, because none of it felt real. I wasn’t a hero. In my heart, I was still a criminal, and I hated every one of them for remaining loyal to the Bleak.
But they were all being so damn nice to me.
“This is a celebration of life, Driftwood. Why do you look so miserable?”
I startled, looking over at Nick. He was drinking from his personal flask.
I cringed as I caught the smell of blood. “Where do you even get that?”
He smiled crookedly. “Do you really want to know?”
“No.” I crinkled my nose. “Don’t tell me.”
He turned to lean back against the bar. “What do you think of them? Are we all as blue-collar as you imagined?”
I nodded, looking over my shoulder to survey the crowd. “Yes. Completely. More cut-throat, but yeah.”
Kane pushed through the doors. His face lit up when he saw me, and he found his way to us.
“Sparky,” he said with a smirk.
For the first time that evening, I started to feel comfortable. “Darling.”
“Nick tells me you did good work.” He grabbed a drink off the bar and flicked the cap off with a gesture before toasting me. “I would’ve been there, but as Nick says, I’m not really the door-kicking, blowing-shit-up type. He asked me to go ar
ound and delay as many of your would-be bounty hunters as possible while he hauled your ass out of town for you.”
“Really?” I smiled. “That’s adorable.”
He winked. I felt my cheeks grow warm.
Kane walked around the back of the bar. The bar tender must have known Kane, because this maneuver didn’t illicit any surprise.
Kane nodded at me. “Have a drink. You and Nick. I know you’re the only two here not drinking, and you’re the ones who need it most.”
I glanced down at my can of soda. “Oh, no, I’m fine. Really.”
Nick gave him a small wave. “Good until next year. Thanks.”
“This is your party!” Kane said, a liquor bottle in each hand. “Come on! I took some of the guys and we brought Farrow’s stash to finish it off. It’s tradition, and as you were the ones to catch the bastard that did him in, I know Farrow would have wanted you to have one on him.”
He put two shot glasses on the bar and poured.
“Jette?”
I stared at the shot in front of me and shook my head. “I can’t.”
Kane leaned on the bar with a dazzling smirk. “You will drink that shot, Sparky. Just one. For Joe and Farrow. Before you leave tonight. Promise.”
I wanted to say no. “Fine. Just one.”
“And make Nick drink his.”
Nick glared at each of us in turn. “I’m the designated driver.”
“I know how much it takes to get you drunk, and it’s a hell of a lot more than that,” Kane frowned. He turned his eyes back to me. “Drink one together. It’s bad luck not to. Promise?”
I exhaled a deep breath. Nick rolled his eyes. Apparently, everyone around here was superstitious.
“Fine,” I said. “Just one.”
“Ah!” Kane winked at me, and then waved at someone across the room, drink in hand.
I watched him go, and for just a moment, my eyes lingered.
“Don’t even think about it. Bad choice.”
I turned my gaze on Nick. “Excuse me?”
“Not even as a one-night stand,” he said, shaking his head. “Kane’s nice, as long as you know he’s always running a con. You lie down with dogs, you get up with fleas. I’m advising you, as a guy who owes you a life debt, don’t go there.”
“Hmm. None of your business.” I watched Kane take up a game of darts.
“You’ve been warned.”
“Nicky boy.” An older man came up and leaned at the bar next to Nick. “Glad to grab a moment. I’m sorry for your loss. I just wanted to say I got a call from Montana yesterday, and that thing you sent arrived safely. It’s on its way to the border now. Pack territory by morning. I would’ve called, but I know you wanted to keep this one mouth to ear, no paper trail.”
“I appreciate it, Robert,” Nick said coolly. “Call me ‘Nicky boy’ again and I’m taking you in. I’ve been at this game longer than you’ve been alive. Have you met the woman of the evening, Jette Driftwood?”
“Oh.” Robert peered around Nick. The skin around his eyes wrinkled as he smiled at me. “This is Sam’s girl? That was some terrible business, though, wasn’t it?”
Nick cleared his throat. “Not now, Bobby. We’ll catch up later.”
Robert nodded. Frowning, he walked away.
Nick turned back to the bar. “Sorry about that. Robert’s a little off. He doesn’t always know what he’s talking about. He took a rebounded memory charm about thirty years back, and this line of work kind of numbs you to social norms.”
“It’s fine,” I said. “He was taking about—”
“Yeah,” Nick said quickly. “Looks like it all worked out. They’ll be out of the Bleak’s territory soon. The Packs have no conflict with the Rite. Listen, Driftwood...”
I rolled my eyes at him. Here it comes...
“I know you don’t want to work for them. I know you look at us and all you see is them. But you’ve still got some bad people coming after you, and you know you don’t want to handle them alone.”
I turned my glass slowly on the bar, frowning. “What are you getting at, Nick?”
“You can fight the system from the outside, or you can fight it from the inside. I don’t know if you’ll ever be able to help your father. I understand family and loss, and I know you’re still hurting. You’ll always hurt. But you should let something good come out of it. There are people in this world you can help,” he said. He gestured to the crowd. “You don’t want to work for them, fine. Come work for me.”
I blinked in surprise. “What?”
“You just kicked the hornet’s nest with these hunters. You can’t bail on me now. Help with some cases on the side. Keep your job in the evidence room. You seem to like it there.”
“Well, I hate it there, actually, but thanks for trying.”
“You hate it?”
“It’s all broken people, broken stuff, and weed.” I shook my head. “And guns and knives. I guess some of it is cool. No, not keeping that job.”
Nick shrugged. “I’ll pay you. You can move in with me if you want.”
“And we’re back to skeevy.” I nodded. I took a sip of my soda. “I like Marge. And a few other people. I guess.”
“Is that a yes?”
“Oh, hell no. I’m not living with you. You have a drinking problem.”
Nick sat up straighter. “Hey. Kane will tell you that was the exception and not the rule—”
“I wasn’t talking about the alcohol.”
“—ah.” His smile stretched wide. For the first time, I caught a real glimpse of the retracted fangs hidden amongst his normal teeth. It sent a shiver down my spine. “You’ll get used to it.”
I downed the rest of my glass. “We’ll see about my job. And yeah, you’re paying me for my time. If I decide to help out once in a while.”
Nick smiled, putting one hand on my shoulder. “Good choice, Driftwood. You won’t regret it. And your old man would be proud—you’re going to help a lot of people. Excuse me for just a minute, I need to go talk to an old friend.”
I nodded. He walked toward the far side of the room.
Gods, being back in favor with the Bleak would make it so much easier to break him out... I tried to ignore the voice in my head. The plan had been everything to me since the day my father had disappeared.
Only part of me wanted to do it for him, and it was a strange feeling. I had almost forgotten what it was to want something for me.
I looked around at all the people who had come to this town ready to kill me, because that was what the Bleak told them was right. Was it all about the money?
Not for Nick. Hopefully not for the rest of them.
Certainly not for Robert, the crook of unknown history who had helped Quinn and her family escape beyond the reach of the Bleak. Robert, who was working his way back across the room to me.
Chapter 35
HE STOPPED IN FRONT of me, hands clasped, looking sheepish. “I wanted to apologize for bringing up Sam earlier.”
“It’s fine,” I said dismissively. It wasn’t fine.
“It’s just, he was so good at what he did. It was a shock to everyone when he started taking bribes, and the rest of everything that he got messed up in—”
“My father was a breaker,” I said, confused. “Just like me. He was a good man who was screwed over by a corrupt government. He never took bribes from anyone.”
Robert frowned. “You’re misinformed, girl. Your father worked in the field. Everyone knew Sam. Nick knew Sam. And everyone knew that Sam was taking bribes. Ethics are kind of loose in the business, though, so it wasn’t that big a deal. Until it was.”
He continued to stand there, abashed.
I didn’t know what to say. I’d read every record the Bleak had on my father, and all of them said he’d held a position as a breaker. It was part of the great irony I had purposefully set up while planning to steal the power I now possessed. “You must have him confused with someone else.”
His brow
knit. “Samson Grift? The handler? He talked about you constantly.”
“Oh, no—”
“Used to keep a picture of you in his pocket. Building a sandcastle on the beach.”
“My dad’s name is Samuel Driftwood.”
Robert stood up a little straighter. He shook his head and then smiled in embarrassment. “Oh. I’m so sorry. You just looked so much like him. You have the same green eyes, and I could have sworn...”
I cocked my head with an awkward smile. “My eyes are brown.”
Robert leaned in closer. “I’m so sorry. My mistake. Thank you for what you did for Farrow. It’s not often that a criminal sees justice for his murder. He was my best friend.”
The smile faded from my face. Robert’s sad, confused, red eyes darted away for a moment, and I wondered if he wasn’t sure about what he was saying. A pang of pity ran through my heart.
“I’m so sorry,” I said quietly. I gestured to the seat next to me at the bar, and Robert sat. “You knew him for a long time?”
Robert nodded. “Years.”
He drank the shot that Kane had poured for Nick before signaling the barkeeper, who brought him a beer.
“Jette Driftwood, was it?”
“Yes.”
“Jette Driftwood,” he mumbled my name under his breath before taking a long drink. “Farrow didn’t have a wife or children. A few mistresses over the years, but no one who’s hung around long enough to grieve. He left his house and everything in it to me.”