Shadows & Surrender: A Snarky Urban Fantasy Detective Series (The Jezebel Files Book 3)

by Deborah Wilde

  Levi had barely just been saved. He’d been willing to go to his darkest place when he thought that I’d died, and I’d only started to mean something to him. Isaac, for all his many faults, was his father.

  Even if I could convince Levi not to go after Isaac in retaliation for killing Adam, Levi wasn’t a fool. He’d know immediately that his dad wasn’t merely supporting a party that intended to impose legislative control on all Nefesh. The rumors around the vials, the virus, abducting kids in Levi’s home territory—Isaac was engaged in a systematic and ruthless takedown of his only son.

  The darkness Levi had unleashed in the wake of me going to Sheol would be mild cloud cover on a summer’s day. He was going to destroy Isaac and in the process, destroy himself.

  I’d been kicked when I was down before, but having to be the voice of reason on why Levi shouldn’t kill Isaac was an all-time low. I wanted to cheer him on and bring the acid and the bathtub for the body disposal party.

  No, it wasn’t just that. I would do anything so that Levi didn’t end up with that blood on his hands.

  I pressed my phone with Levi’s text of “I miss you. - Your happy lovah” to my heart like it was the only thing powering me.

  Penned in the middle seat between a snoring man and his restless sleeper wife, who’d had no desire to switch seats with me so they could sit together, I ignored my shitty overpriced sandwich and concentrated on happy thoughts.

  I clung to them for the entirety of the flight, the drive in to town, and the time it took to find Jacques and convince him to take me back to Inferno. He took one look at my face, negotiated a price that was only slightly extortionist, and didn’t try anything funny on the way over.

  He must have alerted the crew on the island because Unibrow was waiting with some other security people in another speedboat, even though it was the middle of the night.

  “Turn around,” Unibrow said. “You get one warning.”

  I hopped out of the back of Jacques’ boat.

  Red laser dots appeared on my arms.

  I stopped, a curious calm descending over me as my armor fell securely into place. “I’m going to see him.”

  “Cute trick,” Unibrow said, “but there’s no magic on the island.”

  “True, but my armor will repel your bullets.”

  One of the guards fired off a burst which pinged harmlessly off me.

  “Told you.” I walked toward their boat. “Want to see what I can do to you when I climb aboard?”

  “You want to see Caligula, you’ll have to go on the island,” Unibrow said. “We’ll wait.”

  “Ah, but if you shoot me you’ll have the Head of House Pacifica to deal with.”

  Unibrow laughed. “Oooh. Big deal.”

  “And the Queen of Hedon.”

  That gave him pause. “You’re bluffing.”

  “Let’s find out. Do you have a way to contact Moran, her second? Wears white, pretty good with a sword?”

  The guards checked in nervously with Unibrow who gave them a signal. They lowered their guns.

  “Smart thinking. Now, who’s going to escort me there?” I brandished my hope like a shield.

  Paulie waited for me on his front steps, bleary-eyed and dressed in silk pajamas. “Ash? Why are you here?”

  Tree frogs chirped loudly and the waves were a distant murmur.

  “Is 26L1 Isaac Montefiore?” I said.

  “Adam never told me.”

  “You knew every other detail of my father’s plan. You’ve tortured yourself remembering it. Built a fucking prison on this island to death wish yourself into penance.” I advanced on him. Again with the red dots.

  Paulie called his guards off and they dematerialized into the jungle.

  “Now, I’m going to ask you one last time,” I said, one foot barely separating us. “Did Isaac Montefiore order the hit on Dad?”

  Paulie sat down heavily with a nod.

  No sound penetrated my numb haze. It was almost as if I was back in Sheol, except that would have been a million times better because then I’d have been able to forget.

  Paulie patted the knotted wood next to him.

  I stood, my arms crossed, waiting to speak until the haze had dissipated, if not the numbness. “Why did you lie to me?”

  “Because sometimes I can convince myself that it didn’t happen that way.” He pressed his fingertips into his forehead so hard they turned white. “That it wasn’t my fault.”

  I gasped. “Did you sell Dad out?”

  “What? God. No. Never.” Paulie rubbed his thighs, agitated. “Adam never told me his boss’s real name. But Isaac came by the shop on totally unrelated business while I was making the Avi passport. He threw me odd jobs every once in a while for that cybersecurity business of his. He saw Adam’s passport photo and he got this crazed look in his eyes. I’d never seen such a burning hatred, especially just switched on from seeing a photo. Adam was supposed to meet his mysterious boss before he left Thursday night, and when he never contacted me with our code to say he’d made it wherever he was going safely? It had to be Isaac.” An ant ran along the top stair and Paulie redirected its path with his finger. “Your dad planned to bring you both to him. When things died down.”

  I leaned on the porch railing, my head on my arms, my eyes dull and wet. Mom had been right. He hadn’t planned to stay away.

  Dad had died not for pulling the con of all cons, but for daring to leave.

  I clenched and unclenched my fists. Isaac had the gall to then blithely support my mother’s legislation, knowing what he’d done. Did he get a little thrill when he spoke with us, cherishing his secret of how he’d ruined our lives? Did he long to see our scars that proved his power, just like he’d once seen Levi’s?

  Was his behavior that of a narcissistic psychopath or was it misdirection? After all, he’d learned from the best.

  I gripped my uncle’s sleeve. “Where were Adam and Isaac to meet?”

  He shrugged helplessly.

  “Please, Paulie. You have to remember.” Dad never made the meeting with Gavriella, and Chariot didn’t have the scroll.

  He tapped a finger against his forehead as if needing to physically trigger the memory. “Um. Isaac’s house?”

  Had Isaac had the balls to look him in the eye and tell him? Or did he take the coward’s way out and let Dad leave believing he was about to meet Gavriella and then skip town? That he was home free? Except my paranoid, people-intuitive father would have known his luck had run out and even if he’d tried to charm Isaac out of it, the assassin would be immune.

  Avi genuinely hadn’t known about the scroll, which meant Dad had pulled one final con. Hidden in plain sight.

  I kissed the top of my uncle’s head. “I absolve you, Uncle Paulie. Get your shit together and sell this dump.”

  “But—”

  I glared at him until he shook his head and laughed.

  “You’re just like your father.”

  It was the sweetest thing he could have said.

  When I got back to Vancouver, Rafael and I waited until night to break into Isaac’s house. I’d continued to avoid Levi. Priya, too. We killed time in the library while I fobbed them both off with texts about how close Rafael and I were and thanked Priya profusely for watching the dog. At least I’d had a shower and was dressed in new black clothes perfect for the modern cat burglar.

  “You have to tell Levi the truth about the hit,” Rafael said. “You work for the man. You’re dating him.”

  I picked mushrooms off of my slice of pizza. “How do you see that conversation going? ‘Hey, Levi. Isaac is one of the Chariot Ten. He hired my dad to find one of the scroll pieces, possibly with the promise of immortality. Dad freaked out and left his family when he realized how dangerous this job was. All would have been well except I crashed a car and got this crazy Jezebel magic and he decided to con Isaac. Oh, don’t worry. That didn’t kill him. The con of the switched scrolls stands to this day. No, on a totally random fluke o
f poor luck, Isaac saw Adam’s fake passport photo. Isaac’s abandonment issues went haywire and he hired an assassin to kill my dad. But LOL, laugh’s on him because Dad hid the real scroll in Isaac’s house, right under his nose.’”

  Balled-up cheese and pepperoni joined my pile of mushrooms.

  Rafael grimaced. “Perhaps not phrased exactly like that.”

  “Perhaps not phrased like anything. I don’t want to hurt Levi.”

  “You aren’t.”

  My deconstructed pizza had all the appeal of boiled pig’s feet. “I don’t want him to experience any more hurt, Mr. Literal.”

  “That’s simply impossible. He’s part of this, Ashira.”

  “And I’m trying to keep him out of it as long as possible.” Giving up any pretense of the Great Pizza Reassemble, I wiped off my hands, my appetite gone.

  “Ironic, since you yourself take issue with that very behavior.”

  Our fathers were our own personal nuclear missiles. The desolate wastelands they’d created in their kids had burst into a glorious radioactive bloom, but I was damned if Levi was going to view me as his own ashy holocaust.

  “This is different. Drop it.”

  Our plan to wait for nightfall and silently slip inside was foiled when we pulled up close to midnight in our taxi at the address a half block away, to find the Montefiore mansion lit up. Music spilled out through the open windows and guests in cocktail outfits milled about both inside and on the front porch.

  “Should we come back tomorrow?” Rafael said.

  “No. This might be better. Lots of people to provide noise and cover.” Keeping low and sticking to the shadows, we crept around to the back.

  I ducked behind a bush, watching the kitchen door.

  A couple of servers came out for a quick smoke break, slumping against the outside wall as they lit up. Their once-pressed black trousers were wrinkled and their white shirts were stained.

  “Perfect. They’re too tired to give a shit. Follow me and act like you mean to be here.” I waltzed up the back stairs, nodding at the pair.

  The staff in the kitchen paid us just as little attention, busy washing dishes and putting leftover food away in containers.

  We strode confidently across the room and were almost home free when Nicola Montefiore, Levi’s mom, walked in to see how things were going. She’d aged a bit, deepening the impression of her fragility. Looks were deceiving because if she’d survived all these years with Isaac, she was anything but weak.

  I yanked open the fridge door, rearranging contents to make room, while Rafael ripped off random pieces of aluminum foil. I’d seen her over the years when she’d come to pick Levi up from camp, and we’d never met, but I used that door as a shield in case she placed me.

  Nicola spoke with the staff in her melodic Italian-accented voice. Finally, her back was to me.

  I let my Eiffel Tower recreation in the fridge, involving a box of lettuce, a carton of eggs, and a container of whipped cream, stand. Grabbing Rafael’s arm, I pulled him into the back hallway and we sprinted up the staircase. There were five doors up here. All but the first one were closed, and a very familiar voice was coming out of it.

  My mother’s.

  I gave a soft “eep,” then slammed my hand over my mouth.

  Rafael shot me a questioning look and I mouthed, “Talia” with a head gesture to the door.

  “Why?” he mouthed back.

  Yeah. Actually. Why was Talia upstairs in the Montefiores’ house?

  I peeked in…

  …and met my mother’s eyes. She choked on her drink, standing with Isaac and Jackson in a study.

  “Talia?” Jackson said. “Are you all right?”

  “Fine,” she sputtered.

  I shrank back against the wall and the floorboard squeaked.

  “Someone there?” Isaac called out. “The staff shouldn’t be up here.”

  His shoes tapped against the wooden floor, drawing closer. We couldn’t get back down the stairs and out of his line of sight before he came out to check, but that didn’t stop us from trying.

  We’d made it down the first couple of stairs where there was an “Excuse me,” from behind.

  My hand sprang to my rapidly beating heart but it was Talia, not Isaac. Her expression was schooled into a bland politeness with not even a flicker of recognition. “If there’s something you need, find Mrs. Montefiore. She should be downstairs.”

  “Apologies,” Rafael said, sparing me from answering and being recognized. “I thought she came this way.”

  “She didn’t. I suggest you take more care this evening.”

  “Again,” Rafael said. “Apologies.”

  “Thank you,” I mouthed.

  An unreadable expression flashed across her face.

  “See, Isaac,” she said, returning to the office. “No need to terrify the help.”

  She shut the door with a firm click.

  I allowed myself one second of sagging in relief that this hadn’t gone totally tits up, then we crept past the office.

  Silently, we opened and shut all the doors until we found Levi’s old bedroom. We snuck inside, shutting the door behind us with a soft click.

  There was a double bed with a blue bedspread, some sturdy wood bedroom furniture, and tons of trophies. Academic, athletic, you name it they crowded his shelves. My heart wrenched for young Levi, trying so hard to prove his worth.

  “Where do we begin?” Rafael whispered. “‘Hiding spot’ is pretty vague.”

  “You take the closet. I’ll check for fake drawer bottoms. Just do it quietly.” I methodically searched through Levi’s dresser. “I don’t sense anything. Maybe it’s not here.”

  “Or the scroll is sealed in something which prevents its detection. The pillars aren’t anything special in terms of containing the magic. They’re virtually impossible to break into, but they aren’t warded up, either. A good waterproof container might be enough to keep you from detecting the scroll’s presence.”

  “Maybe the Tupperware dream is alive and well and your day will be made.”

  Rafael grinned at me.

  We’d searched about half the room with no luck when I asked Rafael to help me lift the mattress. We hefted it up, but there was nothing hidden in the slats.

  We dropped it back into place and I jumped.

  Levi stood against the closed door, his arms crossed. “Care to explain?”

  “Not really,” I said.

  “That wasn’t actually a request,” he said, “though I guess I would be somewhat loath to talk about why I was lifting my boyfriend’s mattress with some other guy, visiting his parents’ house without letting him know, and, oh yeah, avoiding him.”

  I planted my hands on my hips. “How did you find us? Did you have Priya track us? I don’t believe this.”

  “You ghost me for two days, search my room, and then have the audacity to get indignant?”

  “I’ll just…” Rafael pointed to Levi’s trophy shelves, getting very interested in one with an archery symbol on it.

  “The two hundred pages of Google results on you were pretty superficial,” I said, “so I figured I’d check out your old bedroom to get a sense of the man I was dating.” I pointed at a small trophy. “Spelling bee, huh? What was the winning word?”

  “Mendacious,” Levi said in a flat voice.

  I swallowed. “Walk away, Levi. I’m begging you.”

  He stood in front of me. “Whatever this is, we face it together. Remember?”

  “I don’t want you to face it.”

  He brushed his thumb under my eye, looking at the smudged tear. “Bella, please. You’re scaring me.”

  I looked away and Levi made a frustrated sound.

  “You told Ashira’s father about your hiding place, correct?” Rafael said.

  I thunked my head against the wall.

  “I did,” Levi said. “Are you looking for something in particular?”

  “No,” I said, just as Rafael said,
“Tell him.”

  I sighed. “The missing scroll piece.”

  Levi frowned. “Why would it be…” His face twisted. “No.” He stepped back, turning away from me.

  I closed my eyes. Please let me be wrong. Pull me close and tell me not to worry. Tell me that we’re not our fathers.

  “Levi.” I reached for him but at the last second, I dropped my hand. “Isaac is one of the Chariot Ten,” I said. “That’s who my father was working for.”

  Levi blinked at me, his mouth slack. “He’s Mundane. He despises magic.”

  “Despises or covets?” Rafael said.

  “Not helping,” I hissed.

  “He supports the Untainted Party,” Levi said. “He can’t be Chariot. They want immortality. He wouldn’t back the legislation if that were the case.”

  “There’s an argument to be made that immortality is different from magic power,” Rafael said. “Actually, one of the Attendants from a hundred years ago had some fascinating—”

  I glared at him. “Show us the hiding spot,” I said. “If the scroll isn’t there, then we have this all wrong.”

  That was a logical argument, right? If X, then Y. If I said it enough times, it might become true.

  Levi lifted up a tile in the ceiling and pulled out a large shoebox.

  Rafael and I crowded around it, barely breathing as Levi flipped it open.

  It was empty.

  “We were wrong.” I said it, but I didn’t believe it.

  “I wasn’t,” Rafael said. “It’s Isaac. The codename matches the quote on the clock.”

  Levi buried his head in his hands with a low moan.

  “Levi.” I placed my hand on his arm. He was so stiff.

  “Misdirection.” His voice was flat, his expression bleak. I had the scariest feeling that he’d gone away and that this Levi was just an illusion. “Hidden in plain sight, right? That was Adam’s thing.”

  “The box is empty.” I rubbed his arm, trying to get some look or action to prove that my wonderful boyfriend was there and not this shut-down automaton.

  “It shouldn’t be,” Levi said, and walked out the door.

  Rafael and I scrambled after him down the back stairs and into the kitchen.