It was still light when I walked through the streets of Brixton and for a change the sun had been shining all day today. It was surprisingly warm for the end of April, and I much preferred the summers rather than bitter, cold winters. After my long and painful recovery I tried to stay off tequila. Slipping into the old ways wasn’t something that I’d intended to do, but my confidence was knocked. I’d gone through quite a shock when Arthur came over and asked me to work for him again. Then, my first official date with Zachary Quinton rolled in and I panicked. Our chemistry was off the rocker and we were both hoping that we could end the perfect evening in bed. Unfortunately things didn’t quite work out that way.
Zach invited me over and I ran. After an amazing date and even better make-out session in the cinema, I made some lame excuse and told him that I had to go home, feeling like the biggest loser on earth. Maybe it was a panic attack or the fact that I still wasn’t over Arthur. Either way, Zach didn’t call me again after that and we lost touch. Yeah, he’d most likely had enough trying to push me in the right direction.
“Hey, how did it go with the relief licence today?” Paul asked, when I walked into the bar twenty minutes later, still buried in my own thoughts. The Broken Shoe was busy for Thursday night, filled with more humans and demons.
“That old-school Judge Michaelstone didn’t want to listen to my arguments, but we managed to work something out in the end,” I said, winking at Paul. He automatically grabbed the bottle of tequila and placed it on the bar. I liked the fact that Paul didn’t try to cure me. He was a bartender and I was a well-paying customer—we had an understanding.
“I know for a fact that this old demon religiously follows the protocol, so what exactly did you do, Max?” Paul asked, looking at me with that concerned gleam in his eye. After all, he used to be a Watcher, so he knew the ins and outs of the faction’s business.
“I had to play with him a little, put the right arguments forward. Don’t worry. I had it all under control,” I lied, drinking all three shots at once, pushing the unknown fears away. I didn’t want to think about Cyril and his warning.
“This isn’t a joke, Maxine, and you don’t mess with Berith’s men. They will find a way to get to you,” Paul warned me, giving me a stern look. My knotted stomach reminded me that I was still vulnerable, exposed and on the Watchers radar. I had to remember that I wasn’t invisible anymore.
“I get it, Paul. I promised to follow the protocol, so that should keep the faction off my back. The business is good these days and things finally are going smoothly. Trust me, everything will be fine,” I assured him, knowing that somehow I needed to remain positive. “Just keep filling my glass with tequila. I’ll be at the back, playing poker.”
Paul was good to me and I hated lying to him. But I didn’t want him involved in any shady faction politics. After all, he retired from that old life. I didn’t want him making any assumption over my unstable future. Things were good for once. My shitty flat was filled with cash, Arthur had left me alone, and the business was growing. I couldn’t complain.
“There she is, our star of the evening, Maxine Brodeur,” Devlin shouted when I passed through the tables and found myself in the company of a few demons. They hadn’t started playing yet, but I could see the stack of cards on the table, along with a few pints of beer. The female demonic twins were there too and I had a feeling this was going to be a good night. Finally my luck had begun turning around. Recently I had outplayed everyone around the table, which caused a slight irritation amongst the group.
“Stop talking and toss the cards; tonight’s my lucky night,” I said, pushing the chair with my leg and trying to make myself comfortable.
“You’ve been lucky for too long, Maxine. It’s time to give up your crown,” Devlin said.
“No way. I will whoop your arse again tonight, so watch out,” I responded.
“Damn, girl, you really are on fire. Jack, toss the cards.”
That was the last thing that I remembered, because when I opened my eyes next someone was shaking me, telling me that it was time to go home. Surely I hadn’t lost the past several hours of the game after just a couple of shots.
When I glanced at the clock, it was quarter to two in the morning and it was Paul that stood in front of me. My vision was blurry and my mouth tasted like garbage. I had no idea what happened or how I managed to pass out, but all my pockets were empty. Someone had robbed me.
“Yo, Paul, I think you should call the police, someone took all my money,” I complained, stumbling on my feet. It was becoming almost too difficult to keep my balance while trying to concentrate on Paul’s deep frown. Yes, he was pissed like a fart, but someone had dared to steal from me. This wasn’t on.
“I’m sorry, Max, but no one took your cash. You lost everything playing poker. Devlin kept pouring you drinks. I went to put some boxes down two hours ago and when I came back you were already fast asleep on the table.”
I was ready to argue with him, but the problem was that I didn’t remember exactly what had happened. There was no way that I was outplayed; my cards in the past few weeks were brilliant. I shoved my hands into my pockets to check once more. No, they were empty.
“Impossible,” I muttered to myself and then burped loudly, covering my mouth with my palm, slightly embarrassed. Paul wrapped his large arms around me and started pushing me towards the door.
“It’s late, Max, just after two a.m. and I need to clean up. Stay away from that demon in the future. He just wants your cash and he knows that you have a soft spot for tequila,” he said. “Do you want me to walk you back to the house?”
“No, I’m smashed but I can make it. You have other things that you need to take care of.” I patted him on the back and strolled away, wanting to get lost within the gloomy streets of Brixton. Paul watched me heading home until I disappeared around the corner, still trying to figure out how I had lost over two thousand pounds worth of cash. Maybe someone had slipped something into my drink, because I’d never fallen asleep on the table before during a game. The whole evening was blurry and my memory was in pieces.
Strong currents of magic were rummaging through my system. I felt hot and cold at the same time. My hands were shaking and yet again I had lost control passing out on the table.
The streets were mostly deserted. I sensed a few humans nearby, nothing unusual, just the odd individual probably walking home from work. I still had a hell of a way before I reached my shitty apartment. A couple of days ago I was hoping to start looking for a new place to live in, as I had saved enough money. After tonight this wasn’t going to happen.
“So I see that you haven’t changed much, still wasting your sharp mind and spoiling it with magic,” said the voice somewhere in the darkness. I turned around abruptly, trying to locate whoever had managed to sneak up on me.
Tequila affected my normally excellent vision, but I was certain that there was a demon on the other side of the road, watching me. His strong, rippling energy reminded me of someone from the past, but I wanted to quickly dismiss that thought. Ronan O’Connor couldn’t be in London. He hated people, hated the city after living here for a number of years. I slapped myself, just to be sure I wasn’t hallucinating. Like the night a couple of months ago when I got so wasted that I shagged a random human, thinking he was Prince Arthur.
He widened his eyes at me when I massaged my cheek. That slap bloody hurt.
“This isn’t any black demonic magic, right? You’re really here?” I asked, approaching him slowly. He was short, slightly overweight, dressed in a long black coat. It’d been eighteen months since we’d seen each other. Ronan hadn’t changed much, but there was something concerning in the way he was looking at me.
“Yes, it’s me, Maxine. You aren’t hallucinating.”
“Sorry, I just needed to be sure. Two months ago I got so wasted that I convinced myself that some random human was Arthur himself,” I said, dragging my hand through my hair. Ronan’s past was complicated lik
e mine, and it was a hell of a surprise seeing him in the city. Maybe something had happened to …
“She’s fine. Don’t worry. This isn’t the reason I’m here,” he told me, clearly reading my mind.
I exhaled with relief, but gathered my energy. Living in London taught me that I could get stunned with an unpleasant surprise at any time. The secret that I left behind had been on my mind more than usual.
“How are you, Maxine? Well, besides being drunk and high on magic?” he asked, placing his warm palm on my shoulder. His touch calmed me down instantly, and I felt slightly less intoxicated. Ronan’s abilities had evolved over the years and he was much more powerful than me. His energy scorched down my spine, pushing the toxic magic out, cleansing me.
“I’m still a wreck, but I’m coping, much better than several months ago,” I said, feeling stupid that I let Devlin get to me like that.
I didn’t want to think about this right now. Obviously Ronan had arrived in London for a reason. He hadn’t been back here since he left fifteen years ago.
“You’re pushing yourself too hard. Healing takes time, more time than you think,” he said, scratching his jaw and glancing around. “We need to talk, Maxine. The news isn’t good. ”
My stomach dropped and I was suddenly feeling very sober. My life used to be linked to Ronan’s in a very strange way.
“We should walk to my flat. We can talk there,” I suggested.
“I feel better being outside,” he said.
I sighed, forcing myself not to roll my eyes. Ronan was serious.
“Okay fine, so just tell me—what happened?” I asked, knowing that there was no one around and it was safer for us to talk on the street. Ronan could sense any human within a few hundred meters away. He used his energy to release me from the claws of tequila, which meant that this conversation was going to be serious.
“My son stole something from me. In the past few years I had kept some significant letters at home,” he said.
“A son? I didn’t know that you had any kids.”
Right, clearly I had missed something over the years, but at the same time Ronan was a very private person. He hardly talked about himself or his family.
“We were never close. His mother showed up when he turned eighteen. I have tried to make an effort, but as you know, my job prevented me from truly having a fully engaging relationship with him,” he explained, sounding tired and drained. The job, yeah, I knew exactly what he meant, working for royals had aged me too.
“What was in those documents?”
“It was a private collection of letters of dead Princess Catherine to her lover. She placed them in my possession before she died, so no one knew that they even existed,” he said. My heart began thumping faster, somehow I knew this wasn’t the reason he got back in touch with me.
“Letters, right? Anything else?” I asked, feeling a little dizzy.
Ronan’s eyes darkened. He cleared his throat, trying to send some calming vibes through my system. “Yes, Maxine, he also took the letter that you wrote to Arthur revealing why you had to run away.”
Chapter 3
“These dwell among the blackest souls, loaded down deep by sins of differing types. If you sink far enough, you'll see them all.” ― Dante Alighieri, Inferno
I wasn’t sure what Ronan was talking about. I didn’t remember writing any letter to Arthur, but that period of my life was very hazy, filled with overwhelming darkness. It was one of the most depressing times in my life. I had spent at least a month so hooked up on magic that I was hardly ever sober.
“Ronan, I haven’t sent anything to Arthur,” I mumbled, feeling numb from head to toe. This was my worst nightmare, a bad joke. The world couldn’t be so cruel.
“You didn’t send the letter, Maxine, but you did write it, revealing everything, the whole truth. Telling him about—”
“All right, I get it, spare me the details,” I cut him off, rubbing my head so hard that I was going to have a bruise. “I guess I was so fucked up that I was ready to destroy my life and his?”
I wanted to cut off my own ears so I didn’t have to listen to Ronan. In the past eighteen months I had tried hard to keep this secret hidden, telling myself that this was the only way. The future king was getting married and I didn’t want to jeopardise his happiness. My memories were in shreds.
“You were quite emotional that day, so it’s understandable why you wouldn’t remember it,” he said. “I shouldn’t have kept it, but I thought about our future and thought that it was important to you. The letters were protected by magic, but Nameless somehow managed to break the wards.”
I felt like someone suddenly dropped a bucket of cold water over me, then slapped me a couple of times. The letter, of course I bloody scribbled the letter to the love of my life, revealing everything, hoping that he would understand. Ronan was staring back at me with that heavy look on his face.
“Nameless?” I questioned him, feeling numb everywhere.
“That’s his nickname. He hasn’t used his real name for a very long time. Tom O’Connor. His mother had given him my surname when he was born, but everyone in London knows him as “Nameless, the thief,” Ronan explained. “I need to get these letters back, Maxine. The information there will ruin the royals, me, and everyone else involved. I’m obligated to protect the reputation of Princess Catherine.”
I was pacing at that point, trying to gather what that meant for me. Well, for starters, I would start the biggest scandal if the content of the letter was made public. And of course the faction could launch an official investigation. Right now my situation amongst Watchers was complicated enough, but the letter would only add oil to the fire. No one would believe that we were in love, that we had something special going on.
“Is he a full demon? Your son?” I asked, not recognising my own voice, regretting that I made such horrible choices in the past. I thought that my affairs with royals were behind me, that I could finally move on.
“No, he’s a mongrel with quite a reputation on the streets of London. We had a disagreement earlier in the year and he left, furious, threatening to kill me. Maybe that’s what prompted him to take the letter, to break in,” Ronan explained. “I want to hire you, Max. You need to find him and get these letters back before he can hand them over to someone else.”
There was no doubt that I had to get involved. I owed a lot to Ronan. He knew the truth of my situation could never reach the royal family, that it could destroy me and people that protected my secret.
“What do you think he intends to do with these letters?”
“I have no idea, but there is a possibility that someone else was involved, a third party. Someone that wanted to get hands on these letters. It’s nothing to be proud of, but my son is one of the most skilled thieves in London. He’s known on the streets and within demonic communities. On top of that he’s wanted by human police,” Ronan continued, drowning me in the dark waters. Now I truly understood the extent of my addiction to magic, the things that I had done in the past. It was time to get myself truly sorted. “You’re the only person capable of finding him, Max.”
“Of course. This matter involves us both. I need to get that letter back or destroy it. You do realise that Arthur mustn’t know the truth, that this would kill him?”
“Yes, Maxine, I know what you’re saying, and even if I don’t agree with the choices you have made, I’m afraid that the head of faction needs to be informed and possibly the prince himself.”
Two months ago, I tried to burn a letter I received with the royal seal, because I couldn’t face Arthur, and now this was happening all over again. Ronan was right. Rodriguez needed to know what was happening, but Arthur? I wasn’t too sure if that was such a good idea.
“Arthur? You want to talk to him?”
“I had his mother’s letters in my possession for years, the letters that he has no idea about. He needs to know the truth,” Ronan admitted, looking uncomfortable.
“
Fine, whatever. We will do what needs to be done. Are you ready to get back to the palace after all these years?” I asked, knowing well enough that as an ex-employee Ronan didn’t want to be dragged into royal affairs again. He had spent his best years working as a butler, first to the Queen mother, then to Princess Catherine.
“I don’t think that I have any choice,” he replied, with that tormented tone of voice, releasing me from the spell. “I’ll be in touch. Get some sleep, Maxine, you will need your energy tomorrow.”
I shook my head, feeling smashed again. A moment later Ronan had walked away, leaving me alone, but this time with even heavier baggage on my shoulders.
The morning came and I woke up with another gloomy hangover. The sun was beaming into the room and my head was banging. Last night was brutal, and the main problem was my memory. Devlin obviously knew that I was willing to party, so he took advantage of me, the bastard. He must have sensed that I had shit loads of money in my pocket. I didn’t remember falling asleep on the table. Someone must have slipped something into my drink.
I pushed the covers away and went to the bathroom. My reflection in the mirror told me that I needed to slow down, take a deep breath, and ditch tequila once and for all. Detox was on order. After I brushed my teeth and drank a whole pint of water, I wondered if Nameless was working alone or if he had a silent partner.
Ronan wanted to talk to Arthur, so another trip to Buckingham Palace was unavoidable. Maybe it was the time to come clean and tell Arthur the whole truth.
In the past few months after my confrontation with Alexis, I’d been functioning. Living my life and trying to be a new Maxine. Ricky had gotten used to the fact that I was showing up to work on time, that I was helpful and resourceful. Now this was just about to change yet again.
Doomed Cases Series (1-3) Demonic Triangle Diabolical Quest Infernal Initiation Page 26