by Trina M. Lee
I lay awake long after Rowen fell asleep. Staring out the window at the fading night beyond, I questioned what exactly my role in this was. It seemed that I couldn’t save both brothers and that being light didn’t make Rowen safe even now.
Just before dawn the amethyst stone in the handle of the Midnight Star began to glow, a deep purple light that lit up the room. I sat up, clutching the sheets tight in both hands, heart racing.
As I gazed into the violet light, a warmth crept over me. A sense of comfort accompanied it, the assurance that, live or die, all would happen as it should if I would just believe. Worrying meant living in a time that might never come, and I was needed in the present.
The light faded, and I lay back down, cuddling in close to Rowen who slid an arm around me and pulled me against him without waking. Sleep pulled me under, and I welcomed it, grateful to escape into the bliss of unawareness.
Not nearly enough time passed before the scent of coffee and noise from the kitchen woke me. Cinder. I was awake and upright, blinking the sleep from my eyes. The bed was empty.
Voices low in discussion drew me. Rowen was out there already. I searched the closet for my robe before settling on baggy PJ pants with zombie heads on them and a Slayer t-shirt I’d stolen from Rowen.
“Couldn’t someone have planted it in his house?” Rowen’s voice reached me first as I emerged from the bedroom. “He’s being framed, Cinder. I’d be willing to bet on it.”
“Don’t be too quick to gamble with your integrity. Defending a murderer comes with great consequence. Emotion will lead you to compromise yourself if you’re not able to stand back and see things for what they are.” Cinder’s tone stayed calm, soothing.
They both looked up at my approach. The two of them sat at the table, drinking coffee and eating bagels. The knife box sat right where we’d left it.
“Good afternoon, Ember,” Cinder greeted me, pointing to the coffee maker. “Grab a cup and join us. It seems this situation has taken a turn.”
I hurried through the motions of dumping sugar and milk into a mug before filling it to the brim with coffee. “How so? The knife?”
Cinder waited with great patience for me to sit down. He nodded. “Yes. It hums with Arrow’s energy. There is no doubt that he’s used it. It belongs to him.”
Rowen looked pale and acted withdrawn. The circles beneath his eyes revealed his lack of genuine rest. He said nothing, staring down into his mug as if he could fall into it and be free of the situation.
“Jett said the blood is human.” I sipped the hot coffee, needing it even though it burned my tongue. “Are you saying Arrow killed Vicky then? He doesn’t remember anything, Cinder. I don’t think he lied about that.”
“No. Neither do I.” Cinder was quiet a moment, pondering. He shoved the plate of toasted bagels closer to me, along with some cream cheese and a butter knife. “This may be difficult for you both to understand, but please, bear with me.”
Rowen and I exchanged a look. My stomach tightened, and the sight of the cream cheese made it flip. Dread filled me. I could always tell when Cinder was about to say something I didn’t want to hear.
“We’re bearing.” I gestured for him to continue, to just spit it out before the anticipation crushed me.
Cinder clasped his hands and leaned forward. Both brows drew together into a serious frown. “I believe Arrow did kill Vicky. If I’m not mistaken, he’s a sleeper agent for Dash. And he has no idea.”
CHAPTER SIX
“A fucking sleeper agent,” Rowen swore. “He’s just a puppet, and he doesn’t even know? We can’t let Dash get away with that.”
Smoke spewed from between Rowen’s lips as he sucked angrily on a joint. His free hand drummed an aggressive beat on the steering wheel. We sat in his car outside the small office where we’d be meeting with Joe. We were just waiting on the arrival of our bandmates.
“Try to look at the silver lining. Arrow isn’t lying, and he isn’t a murderer. Not a willing one anyway.” I shook my head when he offered me the spliff, instead opting to stare down the street, looking for Jett’s Mustang. “We’ll help him. Just no rash actions, ok?”
It was the third time I’d said that, and each time Rowen avoided a direct response. After Cinder shared this bit of terrible news, we’d had to get ready for the meeting. So the entire drive over had been spent listening to Rowen vent his frustrations.
This whole ordeal was weighing on us both. I hadn’t seen him smile since Arrow turned up at my door. Having this new information on what was going on with Arrow should’ve been a relief, but it felt more like another brick stacked on an already heavy pile. Eventually, the weight would become crushing.
“I still don’t know what to tell Joe about where he is.” Rowen jerked his chin toward the office building. “Think he’ll buy it if I just say Arrow’s at home with the flu?”
“You might not have a choice. If he’s not here, then he can’t make a fuss about the song. You know that’s the only reason Joe’s meeting with both bands together.” I fidgeted with the spiked leather bracelet adorning my wrist. Spinning it, pausing to touch a pointy tip, I breathed a sigh of relief when Jett pulled up with Rubi and Tash.
We got out of the car to chat in the parking lot until Sam and Greyson showed up. They were right on time, giving me little chance to fill Jett in on recent developments. It was too sensitive an issue to share by text.
The seven of us filed into the office, cramming into the small waiting area. I wasn’t sure I’d ever get used to these meetings. Even though we weren’t with a huge Hollywood record label, it was still a label, and the first real stepping stone on the way to our dream career. Having a manager was surreal, a small victory of its own. Too bad it was tarnished by demon crap.
A few minutes later we were ushered down the hall to an office with a large enough table for all of us. Seated at the head of the table was the man who’d taken us on after the Battle of the Bands event: Joe Russell. Next to him was an assistant, a laptop open in front of her. I sat heavily between Jett and Tash while Rowen and the guys sat across from us ladies.
Catching Rowen’s eye, I smiled, hoping it would be echoed. He tried, a tug of his lips that looked almost painful. With a shrug, he sat back in his seat and tried to appear attentive.
“Thank you for joining us here today.” A dazzling grin lit up Joe’s face, revealing a mouthful of expensive cosmetic dental work. Nobody had a smile that perfect by nature. “Just wanted to go over a few things with you all, but I’m sure you know that our main focus today is deciding who will record “Love Song For An Angel.” This will be a quick meeting.”
We all nodded, and I could feel Jett bristling next to me, likely trying to rein in her wolf’s temper. Though I’d never say so aloud, I was glad Arrow wasn’t there to make this more difficult.
Joe glanced around the room, meeting each of our gazes in turn. It was a nice effort on his part to make us all feel welcome and important, but even as newbies we knew how this worked. It was all about the money.
He frowned, his gaze locked on the guys. “No Arrow today?”
Rowen held Joe’s stare as he decided which lie to tell. “Arrow wasn’t feeling too hot this morning. Figured it would be better if he stayed—”
“Sorry I’m late.” Arrow burst into the room, trailing a cloud of cigarette smoke and cologne behind him. He plopped down in a chair across from me and turned a huge smile on Joe. “So, what did I miss?”
We all stared at Arrow in various levels of shock. It wasn’t so much the disheveled hair in need of washing or the rumpled clothing probably fetched from his living room floor. No, it was the raw, harsh evidence of the beating he’d taken.
One eye was bruised black, streaks of red from broken blood vessels discolored the white around his iris. The other eye was also bruised but less so, more blue than black. Various scrapes and cuts marred his face, the worst being the split through his bottom lip.
Despite how fast he’d sat down,
his body remained stiff, as if it hurt too much to relax in the chair. How many more injuries were hidden from sight? He regarded us all with a raised brow, like he couldn’t imagine what had us so captivated.
“Um.” Joe glanced over at his assistant’s laptop screen, clearly flustered. “Nice of you to join us, Arrow. We were just getting started.” His dark eyes bounced around the table, searching us for a reaction, frowning when we masked it. “Anyway, about that song, Dark Mountain Records feels it has real promise. However, I understand that it belongs to Rowen and Spike. Is it possible we can agree today on which band will record it? I’d like to be able to give them an answer sooner than later.”
Jett and Arrow stared at one another. I couldn’t decide which of them wore the deadlier expression, Arrow with his abused face or Jett with the beast moving beneath her skin.
“It should be our song,” Arrow said, unflinching in the face of Jett’s silent wrath. “Rowen wrote most of the music. If it sells, we’ll give Spike a cut. But it belongs on our album.”
I should’ve been irritated that we were there to argue over a damn song, but I was still too stunned by Arrow’s condition.
The werewolf at my side was not as distracted. “No. It doesn’t.” Those three words were spoken between clenched teeth. Jett was trying to stay professional. The lack of curse words made that evident. “The lyrics are too deep for you, Arrow. Don’t pretend you can relate to that song.”
Joe opened his mouth to speak.
Arrow cut him off, having eyes only for Jett. His tone was snide, dripping with condescension. “What the fuck do you know about love songs? You wouldn’t know love if it bit you in the ass.”
Gripping the edge of the table, Jett leaned forward. Her eyes flashed wolf, so fast I hoped Joe hadn’t seen it. No, he was watching Arrow, unable to tear his gaze from that battered face.
“What the fuck do you know about love?” Jett snarled.
I thought she might reach across the table to throttle him.
Apparently so did Joe because he cleared his throat and said, “Rowen. Spike. What do you think about all this? Your friends seem to really love your song, as do I. Do you have an opinion on which band should record it?”
Rowen and I had bigger fish to fry than the damn song. I was starting to wish we’d never written the friggin’ thing or at least hadn’t shown it to our friends.
“I don’t care.” Rowen sounded bored with the conversation, but I knew it was because his mind drifted elsewhere.
Joe’s gaze landed on me, along with everyone else’s. I shrugged. “Maybe we should just flip a coin or something. I don’t think it’s worth fighting over.”
Joe nodded, his lips pressed together as he considered our response. “How about you both record it, in your house or your jam space, whatever, and the record company can decide who they think does it better?”
I shrugged and nodded, worried about Rowen who was worried about Arrow. Arrow, however, looked smug. Jett sat back in her chair, defeated.
“Sure, whatever. That’s fine.” Rowen shifted uncomfortably in his seat. His knee bounced, like he couldn’t sit still. Restless.
Arrow ran his pierced tongue over the cut in his lip. Bright hazel eyes danced from me to Jett. “Works for me.”
“Good.” Joe seemed relieved and ready to move on to a new topic. “Now, just a few other things to go over: recording dates, album promotion. That kind of thing.”
It was hard to stay focused on Joe. Between the pissed off wolf at my side and the two moody nephilim across from me, the urge to tune his voice out and get lost in my thoughts was as welcoming as it was strong.
I didn’t understand why Arrow believed the song to be worth fighting for. Considering everything he faced, it struck me as odd. Perhaps the song meant more to him than I realized or maybe there was more to it than pissing off Jett. This had to be about so much more than a song.
* * * *
“You slimy little piece of shit. Who the fuck do you think you are?” Jett’s outburst was followed by a shove hard enough to take Arrow’s feet out from under him.
A few of us gasped in unison, me being one of them. Jett had managed to keep a lid on her temper until we were outside. Now that we were in the parking lot, she unleashed.
Arrow sat on the ground, staring up at the angry wolf who stood over him. His expression was void of emotion. The sky was overcast, allowing the shadows creeping around him to thicken. They snaked around his legs and arms, crawling over his chest before slithering over to Jett. Though not as strong as they were in the dark, the shadows did a fine job of winding tight around her wrists and ankles, shackling her in place.
“I’m Arrow Fucking Lynch, bitch. If you have a problem with it, you can go fuck yourself.” Arrow got to his feet, wincing as injuries we couldn’t see pained him. With a snap of his fingers, the shadows released Jett, thrusting her backward into me.
I braced for her weight, managing to keep from being knocked down. With a hand on her shoulder, I tried to calm the beast within.
No luck.
She shook me off and stepped forward, both hands up in invitation. “You want to take me on, Arrow? Let’s go. I’ll leave you in pieces, asshole.” A growl rumbled in her throat.
While our friends stepped back, away from the scene, Rowen and I moved closer.
“Do it then.” Arrow shrugged, fearless in the face of Jett’s rage.
I imagined he’d seen much worse. Demon wrath was like no other.
“Guys, what the fuck?” This from Sam who threw his hands up, both shocked and exasperated. “Is this really necessary? It’s just a damn song. Maybe nobody should record it.”
Jett never looked at him when she replied. Her eyes were wolf, and they saw only Arrow. “It’s not just about the song. It’s about his need to step on everyone else, to take from them without giving back. It’s about what a constant selfish prick Arrow is, using anyone to get what he wants without a care for the repercussions. Even his own flesh and blood.”
Arrow’s eyes narrowed, and his upper lip curled into a snarl. The subtle reaction gave away how sensitive he felt about Rowen.
Jett saw it too. She smiled.
Rowen stepped between them, a hand held up as if he could ward off any further blows. “Guys, this has to stop. We’re friends. We’re supposed to be a team. It’s never going to happen if we can’t work together. Compromise somehow.”
Purple hair whipped around Jett’s head as she gave it a vigorous shake. “There’s no compromising with blackmailing, drug-pushing liars.” To Arrow, she said, “You deserve whatever’s coming your way.”
“Jett, stop it.” I was starting to get mad. Everything she said was the truth, but ganging up on Arrow and belittling him could only produce a negative outcome. Anger and hatred grew like weeds. There was already so much of that in his life.
“Actually, Spike.” Jett whirled on me, fangs bared, huge in her human mouth. “I think you need to start. You’re too willing to overlook the shit he pulls. Stop letting him get away with it.”
Her hands vibrated with the intensity of her scalding hot anger. There was more to this outburst than the song. All the time I’d been spending with Rowen and, because of that, with Arrow, was threatening to Jett. She didn’t say so, but I knew she suspected that they would cause a division between us, that at some point I would have to choose between them and my band.
Things had changed recently, she was right. In some ways I did overlook Arrow’s actions and piss-poor attitude, but it wasn’t because he deserved it or because I was in love with his brother. It was because I had a calling, which included him. Couldn’t she see that? Was she unable to understand?
“It’s not like that, Jett.” I spoke with calm determination, refusing to allow either of them to provoke me to anger. “I don’t overlook anything. I just choose to forgive it.”
Now the wolf eyes landed on me, judging me for what she perceived as weakness. “Then I guess that makes you better t
han me. Or it makes you blind and manipulated.”
“Then I guess I’m blind and manipulated.” I relented with a shrug. “But I’m not going to kick someone while they’re down. Look at him. Do you think he needs anymore enemies right now?”
Arrow recoiled, disgust overflowing from him to the shadows writhing like a black cloud around him. They swelled with it, stretching out toward us. “Do you think you’re doing me some kind of favor, Spike?” He spat my name like it left a rotten taste in his mouth. “I don’t need you to defend me, and I sure as fuck don’t want your God-forsaken pity. I can fight my own battles. Stay out of it.”
My cheeks burned with his rejection. It shouldn’t have bothered me, but it did. I knew that I couldn’t save everyone. I wasn’t supposed to. But Cinder had planted this idea in my head, this belief that Arrow was worth saving, and I wanted to make it happen, if not for me or for him, then for Rowen.
I held up both hands in surrender and backed away, toward Rowen’s car. Fine. Neither of them wanted me to play peacekeeper, so I would remove myself from the situation. Rowen, however, was much too stubborn to do the same.
Standing between Jett and Arrow, he held up a hand. A golden ball of light glowed in his palm. “Go ahead. Either of you. Make another move.”
Our friends stood silent, mouths agape. Over time they’d come to know who and what we were, but displays like this were never seen. We did our best to keep this stuff from them.
The tension grew. Arrow and Jett stared at one another, each daring the other to make a move. Finally Jett spun away, slamming her fist into a nearby trash can. Her fist left a basketball-size dent in the side, but her hand remained unmarked.
The wolf was fading from her eyes when she turned to me. “Whatever happens with him, I want no part of it. Tell Cinder I’m sorry but maybe this dream team of his is just that. A dream.”