“I’m sorry I broke my promise,” I said, “but how about you have a modicum of empathy for the shock I was in? If I ever find myself in that situation again, I swear to never ask for your help. And hey, if I die, you’ll get that nice liability-free Jezebel you want so badly.”
He stared at the same page for another minute before closing the magazine. “That was said in the heat of the moment, and I apologize. I was wrong. You’re not a liability. You’ve learned more in your short tenure than many in their entire time as a Jezebel.” He finally looked at me and for the first time I realized how fragile his gaze was. “I’ll do whatever you require of me to ensure you’re around for a long time.”
“Thank you,” I said quietly. “Our next step is to find the piece my father had. The final pillar isn’t lit up. Either he hid it and was killed, in part, for refusing to hand it over, or when Chariot learned of his betrayal, they acquired the scroll, but some high-ranking member who isn’t one of the Ten secured it on their behalf.”
Rafael placed the magazine back in the seat pocket. “For four hundred years Chariot and Jezebels crossed paths on the trail of the scroll pieces. Ever since Gavriella stole that third piece, there was never any evidence of Chariot seeking the final scroll. After what we learned today, I’m inclined to believe that your father got away with his con. Chariot doesn’t know they possess a fake scroll. That’s why they only ever endeavored to find the library. They believed they had two scrolls and wanted our other three.”
“Did they ever succeed?”
“They got close. We’ve moved it a number of times over the years.”
“Where is the library, anyway?” I got there via Rafael’s father’s ring, but wasn’t sure where it was actually located.
“We have, as Attendants, never shared that information with anyone, not even our Jezebels. It’s just traditionally not done,” Rafael said primly. “Besides, what you don’t know, no one can torture out of you.”
I waited for him to laugh or indicate that it was a joke, but he didn’t.
“Well, that’s a motto for the ages. Thanks,” I said, “for letting me know.”
I spent the rest of the flight staring out the window, seeing nothing.
I stopped Rafael outside the Vancouver airport, right before we parted ways. “When you crack the code,” I said, “I’m going to kill 26L1.”
It was a stain on my soul I could live with. In finding my father, I’d sought closure and moving on, except I’d missed a salient point.
Moving on meant leaving something behind.
I may not have gotten revenge on Avi, and neither him nor 26L1 would ever be brought to justice, but my father’s death wouldn’t be in vain.
“You can’t,” Rafael said. “He’s one of the Ten and when we learn his name, we’ll finally have the identity of one of the inner circle. We can use that to find the rest of them and reclaim the scroll that’s in their possession. If you make him answer for his crimes, they’ll replace him and we’ll be no closer than we were before.”
“He murdered my father.” I kicked a baggage cart.
“Chariot murdered mine as well.” Rafael fixed me with the same cold expression he’d worn when he’d shot Avi. “Tell me you won’t kill him, Ashira. None of us get the luxury of revenge.”
Rafael was right and I hated him for it. But there was nothing stopping me from killing 26L1 when this was all over.
I smiled grimly. “You have my word.”
Chapter 25
“Dad’s dead.” I dropped down on Talia’s couch, my black socks with the hole in the toe a stark contrast to her white plush rug.
Growing up, our home had been cozy and cluttered. It was a place that was well lived-in and well loved. Her apartment these days was ruthlessly maintained by a housekeeper. I’d never seen a speck of dust or a dish left out on the counter, and her furniture was the latest in high-end contemporary design, where comfort had somehow been left out of the aesthetic.
“Here.” She handed me a piece of Scotch tape, measuring that she had enough wrapping paper to cover the box of dishes. “When I fold the paper over, tape it down for me.”
“Did you hear me?” I said, waving my tape-covered fingers in front of her face.
“Tape it.”
I secured the edges of the paper with the silver wedding bells on it together. “Who’s getting married?”
“The Shulmans’ daughter.”
“Mazel tov. Dad is dead. Care to comment?”
“I’m well aware that my husband’s dead.” She ripped off another piece of tape, affixing it to the edge of the table, and spinning the box around to wrap the next side.
“How?”
“He never came back.” Rip.
I took the tape away from her. “Yeah. That’s what happens when people leave. But you couldn’t have known for sure. Didn’t you even wonder if he was still alive? Hope?”
“What was the point? He was dead.”
“You didn’t know that.”
She slammed her hand down on the coffee table and I jumped.
Other than the crinkling of paper and the occasional rip of tape, we sat in silence.
“What makes you so certain?” she said at last, rolling the extra wrapping paper up.
“I visited Uncle Paulie. It led me to some information that confirmed Dad’s death.”
She caught her thumb on the edge of the tape dispenser and winced. “Paulie could have killed you. Whatever happened to him, that man is not the same person who snuck you M&Ms.”
“True. He’s broken. But he’s not dangerous. At least not to me.”
The bag with the bows crinkled as Talia pulled out a silver one and stuck it to the package. “I don’t want to know how Adam died.”
“That’s good, because I wasn’t going to tell you.” I systematically unraveled one of the frilly bows. I was a damn good private investigator. I got answers. I’d just never thought about how much this stuff hurt. People asked me to find cheating husbands, lying wives, missing kids, or delinquent relatives. I did, and then I always wondered why my clients where so upset when I got them the answers they already suspected. If you already knew on some level, why did an outside source confirming it break you emotionally?
Now I understood. There was something to be said about people’s tremendous ability to deny reality, even when it was right in front of them.
For our capacity to hope.
“I wasn’t, you know, blind to your father’s faults,” Talia said, swallowing. “But he was just so damn charismatic.” Some of her bitterness leached away as she added, “And he loved us so much.”
“Then why weren’t we enough?” My voice quivered and my body felt heavy and off-center. A black ball had settled into the pit of my stomach, making it ache.
“If I had a dime for every time I asked myself that, my retirement fund would be set.”
“Do you know what he’d gotten himself involved in?” I wound the strings of the unraveled bows around my hands, snapping them tight like a garrote.
“No, but he wasn’t sleeping. When he left, I thought, okay. He’s in trouble, but it’ll work out. He’ll be back. Then the months passed with no trace of him and that was it.”
“What if he’d stayed away because he didn’t want to hurt us?”
“Oh, honey.” She took my hands in hers. “You’ve never been in love like that. Not as a romantic partner and definitely not as a parent. Your dad was dead because he couldn’t have stayed away. No matter what he’d intended when he left.”
A lump rose in my throat. “But you’ve always been so angry at him.”
“One doesn’t negate the other. He didn’t trust in our love. In us, no matter how hard that was.”
I mulled that over, staring down the wedding bells on the wrapping paper like my life depended on them. “I’m dating Levi.”
Dead silence.
“No one can know,” I blurted out, barrelling on. “And I’m keeping the dog.”
I shot her a glare, just daring her to fight back. Give me a target. I didn’t need my family. I had my team. I’d survived without one parent. I’d be fine.
But Talia didn’t deliver one of her usually scathing remarks. She didn’t yell, didn’t sigh disappointedly, and didn’t give me the bullet-point list of the myriad of ways I was screwing up my life. Instead, she brushed a lock of hair out of my face and pressed a kiss to my forehead. “Okay.”
I was so stunned I didn’t realize my mouth was open. After a few tries to form sentences, I crossed my arms, blinked several times, and then said, “Maybe we could try breakfast again sometime. Patios are nice for the dog.”
Talia smiled. “I think that could be arranged. Work talk stays at work.”
“That would be good.”
I didn’t stay. I made it through the hallway and downstairs into the apartment lobby on autopilot before I realized: I couldn’t go home. Priya was still mad and it wasn’t fair to deny her space. But where else could I go? God, I didn’t want to do this hiding out in my bedroom or office, all alone. And there was no way I could keep up a smiling face in front of strangers at a café.
Sunlight twinkled on the glass doors of the building. I had Levi. I could curl into him and he’d wrap his arms around me and it would make the finality of this revelation bearable.
Fuck. It was Tuesday morning. He’d be at work. Well, it was better than nothing.
Everything between Talia’s apartment and finding myself standing in front of Veronica’s desk was a blur.
Veronica barely glanced at me, cool and crisp in a pearl-colored sheath dress, her French manicured nails clacking against her keyboard. “Priya has your dog.”
I pushed on my ribcage like that could help me pump air into my lungs.
Frowning, Veronica looked up and properly saw me. Eyes wide, she hit the intercom button. “Ashira—No. Levi. Wait. Damn it.”
His office door was flung open so hard it bounced off the wall. Levi strode up, his body locked up with rage. “That necro fucker went after Mayan.”
“Levi,” Veronica said insistently.
I blinked at him dumbly for a second, willing my brain to switch gears. Then I shook my head at Veronica. “Is she okay?”
He motioned me inside the office and shut the door. “Yeah. He cornered her after work to see if Gunter had finished Alfie off. Mayan tried to go along with it, but Jonah figured out Gunter was gone. He flew into a rage, demanding to know how.”
“Did she tell him about me?” That’s all I needed. An angry necromancer with insider knowledge of my secrets.
“No. She maced him and fled.” He rubbed a hand over his inky black hair, sending it into disarray. “She’s safe now, but I want him locked up. Miles still can’t track him down, so you’ll need to follow up with Moran.”
“Right. Of course. I’ll…” My brain stuttered and went blank. The bolted cylinder lock and set of pick tools were on the coffee table, sitting on top of another Sherlock Holmes collection.
Adam, his large hands guiding my eight-year-old ones: you’ve got to hold the tension wrench steady, little jewel.
There was a ringing in my ears, but I smiled sunnily. “You’re practicing. That’s…good.”
“Ash?” In an instant, all the fury drained out of Levi. He led me to the sofa. “Shit. Was it your dad?”
I opened my mouth, but no words came out. That ball of grief had spread into my throat like a cancer, choking me. Shaking my head, I curled into him, hanging on for dear life. The only sound was his heartbeat under my cheek and the silent scream in my head.
“Ah, bella,” he said. “I’m so sorry.”
Words were still beyond me. I leaned in and kissed him, trying to pour out my drowning sorrow, crumbling inside.
“Wait.” He stood up and I grasped at his shirt. “I’m coming back,” he said. He locked the door and returned to me. “Can you talk about it?”
I shook my head at him. I couldn’t let it out. Not yet, when it threatened to consume me. I kissed him again, a soft brush of our lips. Longing and stark need whispered through me, banishing the grief and darkness back the tiniest bit. I clung to that flame slowly kindling to life, my kiss growing more desperate as I yanked him closer by his belt loops.
He wrapped a hand around the nape of my neck, his tongue tangling with mine. When he pulled back, his chest rose and fell in rapid breaths. I reached for him again, but he gently pushed me down against the leather sofa, pressing against me with his hard, lean body, and capturing my mouth in a kiss that stole the breath from my lungs.
Levi made his way down my body with hot, open-mouthed kisses that burned deliciously even through the fabric of my clothing.
My fingers bunched into the sides of the cushions. I felt like I’d willingly jumped off a cliff, tumbling faster and faster toward him, secure that when I landed, he’d catch me.
Levi popped the button on my jeans, stripping me in one fluid motion. “Forgot to do laundry again, huh?”
I was incapable of banter, turning stricken eyes on him. “Levi.” His name was my anchor and my plea.
“I’ve got you, bella.” He pushed my legs apart and I stuttered out a weak protest.
“If this isn’t doing it for you…” I said.
He sputtered a laugh, his mouth vibrating against my inner thigh. “Beg to differ.” He licked my clit, agonizingly slowly. “God, the taste of you.”
I tensed up, flinging an arm over my face. A soft noise of pain escaped me. What was wrong with me? I should be grieving my dad, not getting off.
Levi tugged my arm away. Reluctantly, I opened my eyes. He gave a small shake of his head, no trace of amusement on his face. “Whatever you’re feeling right now is okay. You’re allowed to feel alive.”
I gave a small nod, not sure I believed it, but needing it to be true.
He teased me, kissing and suckling along the insides of my thighs as I squirmed. Finally, I covered them with my hands. “Too ticklish.”
Levi lifted his head. His hair was mussed and his eyes were enormous blue pools, but every ounce of focus was trained on me.
I dragged in a shuddery breath and whispered, “Keep going.”
He licked into me again. Every slow flick of his tongue was a teasing rasp against my clit.
My face flushed, but the warmth on my cheeks was nothing compared to the molten flame stealing through me, a hot bright core lit up like the sun. No, the moon, breaking my grief up into manageable ice floes, swimming through the shadows within.
I fisted my hands in Levi’s hair, wanting him to go faster, and felt him smile. Knowing Levi it was probably a smirk, but the sensation sent a welcome and interesting shiver through me, so I let him have it.
“Please,” I whimpered.
His eyes met mine. They burned for me.
My nipples hardened into sharp peaks and I rocked against him, thrashing against his iron grip, and desperately riding the torrent of desire cresting inside me, until I tipped over some unseen precipice and my body fireworked. It was that good.
I burst into tears. Huge, shuddering and snot-filled, I was helpless against them. I cried for my dad and my mom and all the days that could have been and weren’t. My grief had zones: my stomach hurt, my back was cold, my hands felt swollen and hot, and my head throbbed. The dad-shaped hole in my heart bled afresh.
Levi gathered me to him, cradling me close and stroking my hair while I rode it out, a fresh supply of tissues at the ready.
The tears dried up like they always do, every last shard of crystalized grief excised from my chest. “My father is dead. Killed fifteen years ago by the assassin who stole his fake passport.”
Levi winced. “On whose orders? 26L1?”
I nodded.
Levi took my face in hands. “We’ll find him and make sure he pays. I swear.” He sealed his vow with a tender kiss. “I wish there was something I could do to make you feel better.”
I leaned my head on his shoulder. “There isn�
�t. But thanks.”
“How about a date?”
I lifted my head to look at him. “Don’t you have to work?”
“All I’ve got left is my training session with Miles.” He flexed a bicep. “I’m such a prime specimen of manhood that it’s really not necessary.”
All kidding aside, my hyper-responsible boyfriend wanted to shirk his responsibilities just to cheer me up? I smiled. “A date would be perfect.”
I insisted on going home to change and shower. The only instructions Levi gave me vis-à-vis clothing was to dress warm.
Priya wasn’t home. However angry she was at me, Mrs. Hudson wasn’t feeling the effects, since Pri had taken the pug from Levi this morning at work.
It was cold tonight, so I bundled into a coat and gloves, and pulled a fleece cap low over my ears before going down to meet Levi.
He picked me up in a black Jeep with tinted windows that belonged to the House, refusing to say where we were going. I tried to figure it out, but by the time we’d reached the boundary between Vancouver and Burnaby, I’d run out of guesses.
He pulled up alongside Confederation Park, a huge green space running for blocks next to one of the library and community centers in Burnaby. During the summer, families would picnic here all day, while kids splashed in the water park or played at the sprawling playground. There was even a model steam train you could ride down in the far corner.
Tonight, it was deserted. Levi took my gloved hand and led me toward trees at the east side of the park.
“Did I mention I’m not a fan of horror movies?” I said.
“Think more epic showdown, less slasher.”
Lights up ahead broke the gloom. We’d arrived at the bocce ball courts.
It was packed with old men, not one of them younger than seventy, whose lined faces showed lives well lived, if not always easily so. They greeted Levi with an affectionate “Ragazzo!” and enveloped him in hugs, back pats, and kisses on both cheeks, all of which he enthusiastically returned.
Shadows & Surrender: A Snarky Urban Fantasy Detective Series (The Jezebel Files Book 3) Page 25