by Sarah Piper
Do you know the most heartbreaking thing about the One Night Stand job? It was supposed to be his last job… He wanted you to have a normal life… He was planning to take his share and get you out of the country… Start over somewhere new…
“I was angry when I found out,” Rogozin said. “Not because he could break the bind—that is impossible. Only because it was betrayal of his promise. But before I could speak to your father about this, your uncle decided to take matters into his own hands. He wanted greater power, greater respect in my organization. Rather than earning it honest way, he went over my head. He called upon Lord Azerius and made deal to become demon host.”
“How?” she whispered, though the end of this brutal tale was already coalescing in her mind, all the answers she’d been seeking for the last five years finally colliding in an epic, terrible conclusion.
“Is better if I show you this part.” Rogozin gestured to the barbed-wire demon, who handed over a tablet. After queuing up a video, Rogozin passed it to Charley. “It will be difficult to see, but truth is better, no matter how painful.”
The timestamp was dated the day before the One Night Stand job.
The day before her father’s murder.
With a trembling finger, Charley hit play, holding her breath as the images and sounds came to life on the screen.
It looked like some sort of surveillance video—black-and-white, slightly out of focus. There were two men in the frame, but their heads were partially cut off.
Hidden camera, she realized. A third man was wearing it somewhere on his body, probably in a shirt button or tie tack. The others seemed unaware of it.
“He trusts me,” one man said. “It’s not even on his radar.”
Travis. She’d recognize the snake’s voice anywhere.
“Once you get through the tunnel,” the other guy said, and Charley knew at once it was Rudy. Which meant the guy filming was probably Estas.
“Take I-80 West,” Rudy continued, “and find a good, out-of-the-way place to pull off. Play it cool, and he won’t suspect you.”
“That fuckface won’t have time to suspect me.” Travis laughed, a sound that made Charley want to take a scalding-hot shower.
“Just make it look good,” Rudy said. At his nod, Estas passed Travis a padded yellow envelope. “We need this to look like a gang hit, not an inside job.”
“I know what I’m doing,” Travis said. “What about your crew? You need to keep them in check. Last thing I need is one of those assholes asking too many questions.”
“I’ll handle them,” Rudy said. “But watch out for his daughter. My niece is a real pain in the ass. One wrong move and she’ll be sniffing around like a bitch in heat.”
“Bitches in heat are one of my specialties.” Travis laughed again, then peeked at the contents of the envelope. Seemingly satisfied, he tucked it into his pocket. Inside his jacket, right there under his arm, Charley spotted the holster and gun.
The gun that killed my father…
“This time tomorrow, gentlemen,” Travis said, “the deed will be done. And we’ll be officially in business.”
Travis—a man Rudy had brought on as a forger, a man she’d later allowed into her bed… He was the inside guy. The bastard who’d gotten close to her father, only to put a bullet in his head.
And he’d done it all on Rudy’s orders.
Charley’s head spun, the ground tilting beneath her.
It was one thing to suspect it—to know it, deep in her gut—after seeing the evidence Cole had found in the Estas files.
But it was something else entirely to hear the admission from their own mouths.
She returned the tablet to Rogozin and closed her eyes, not bothering to wipe away the tears. Anger, bitterness, grief… They hit her all at once, squeezing the air from her lungs.
“His brother’s life in exchange for power of demon,” Rogozin said. “That was deal Rudy made with Azerius. Unfortunately, like most humans making deals, he did not read fine print.”
Charley took a deep, steadying breath, refocusing. If Rogozin was willing to spill some details about Azerius, maybe there was something in there she could use to find her own way out of this damn deal.
She opened her eyes, doing her best to appear as damsel-in-distress as possible, hoping it might keep Rogozin’s guard down.
“What was the fine print?” she asked.
“Demon host becomes stronger human, this is true. But he cannot channel demon power until host dies and demon takes over vessel permanently. So Rudy is… how is saying?” He let out a low chuckle. “Shooting blanks.”
The other demons laughed.
“I still can’t believe this happened.” Charley retrieved a tissue from her bag and pressed it to her eyes, buying herself a moment to think. Shooting blanks… Did he mean Rudy couldn’t cast hellfire? Was that why her uncle still needed the gun?
If that were true, it gave them a huge advantage—one Rogozin probably didn’t realize he’d just revealed.
But she needed more. Something about Azerius himself.
“Azerius,” she said, forcing a note of reverence into her voice. “Do you know when he’s coming to… to collect me?”
“I do not. It is miracle he’s waited so long, though. Usually it is shorter time.”
“Is there a way I might summon him? A way to speak with him, maybe?”
His eyes sparkled with new light, as if he were entertaining the whimsical thoughts of a young child. “You wish to renegotiate, perhaps? Make better offer?”
“Is that possible? I mean, I know he’s like a god to you, and maybe—”
“God?” He muttered something in Russian to the barbed-wire demon, and they both laughed. “More like… emotionally unavailable father with very bad temper.”
Charley forced herself to laugh along with the others, but inside, her heart was sinking with each new revelation.
“Lord Azerius does not negotiate,” he finally said. “As for how to summon him, well… He kills brothers. Like Cain. That is when he comes. But it can’t be done without the…” He trailed off, then shook his head. “Nyet. It can’t be done.”
Can’t be done without the blade.
That’s what he was going to say before he thought better of it. Charley knew it, deep in her bones.
“So that’s it? There’s no hope? No way to contact him?” She lowered her eyes, playing every bit the naive human Rogozin wanted to see.
“Even if it could be done, he doesn’t like to come. Summoning him binds him to vessel. It is too dangerous. He…” Rogozin sighed, then said, “I am sorry for your plight, Ms. D’Amico. But things could be worse, no? I’m sure Lord Azerius will show you every kindness.”
At this, the other demons laughed again.
Lord Azerius will be too busy dealing with my boot in his ass.
“Thank you for your honesty, Mr. Rogozin,” she said, sensing she’d reached her limit on gathering Azerius intel before they got suspicious.
Rogozin asked her if she’d like to take a moment to collect herself in the ladies’ room, but Charley shook her head.
Her whole life, men had been making deals on her behalf. Her own father had bargained away her soul. Travis had taken him from her. Rudy had been manipulating her ever since.
Now, it was Charley’s turn to make the deal. That’s what she’d come here for. And she wouldn’t leave this fucking table until she’d seen it through.
“I feel like we got a bit off track,” she said, leaving the naive little human behind and stepping back into the role of chief negotiator. “I’m here to discuss a potential partnership between your organization and House Redthorne. It’s obviously no surprise to you that Rudy is planning to double-cross you. But what may come as a surprise is the fact that the object you seek is in fact in Dorian’s possession, and he is willing to sell it to you directly for half of Rudy’s price.”
Rogozin’s poker face was in full effect, but Charley could sense the shift
of energy in the room, the greed and anticipation gathering among the demons like a storm.
She opened her laptop again, then pulled up the photos she’d taken on her phone when she’d first inspected the Mother of Lost Souls, right before she’d smashed it.
All of them gasped.
So much for poker faces, assholes.
“The Mother of Lost Souls has been secured at an out-of-state location,” she lied, “pending the outcome of our negotiations. In addition to the sale, House Redthorne is extending another offer—a seat on the King’s council, which will be reconvened shortly. It’s important to Dorian that all supernaturals are included, and he feels your organization can best represent the interests of the demons in our community.”
Rogozin folded his arms across his chest and narrowed his eyes, his suspicion growing. “Why would vampire king offer this honor to me, and not to Nikolai Chernikov?”
“Because.” Charley shut her laptop flashed a wide smile. “We need your help killing Nikolai Chernikov.”
In the stunned silence that followed, the wait staff finally delivered the meal, and as the demons shoveled in their ham and cheese crêpes and tuna niçoise salad, Charley took polite nibbles of her food and shared what she knew of Chernikov’s plans and the allies he’d already amassed. This time, there were no spreadsheets, no photos, nothing but the story Isabelle had told them and the pieces of the puzzle she and the others had cobbled together.
But Rogozin believed her. She saw the suspicion slowly leave his eyes, replaced instead with something that utterly shocked her.
Respect.
“We are working on a plan,” she continued, pressing her advantage, “but would like to know we can count on you when the time comes. Once the threat from Chernikov is neutralized, Dorian will happily conclude the transaction—with a few caveats, of course.”
Rogozin folded his napkin and set it on his plate, eyeing her warily. “Caveats?”
“We know it’s not the sculpture you’re after, Mr. Rogozin. It’s what’s hidden inside.” Charley held up her hand to cut off a string of sputtering denials. “Dorian understands it’s a piece of cultural significance to you, particularly given your connection to Azerius. That’s why he’s willing to part with it. But you must agree not to use the blade on humans. I understand this may be part of its appeal, but as the ruling body over all supernaturals, House Redthorne is responsible for ensuring the safety of the humans who live amongst you. As such, he can’t allow you to take shortcuts that would violate the existing Accords. Demons have other ways of making deals—consensual deals. Using the blade on humans would constitute a breach of contract as well as a breach of trust. And trust me, Mr. Rogozin. The Royal Redthornes are not a family you want to cross.”
Rogozin glared at her, scrutinizing every word for the lies within.
But Charley held firm, refusing to look away. Other than the little fib about the sculpture’s location, she’d spoken the truth—about her uncle and Estas. About Chernikov. About the deal Dorian was offering.
She’d done what she could. Now, it was up to Rogozin.
“I’ll give you gentlemen a moment to discuss this in private.” She rose from her chair, but before she stepped away, Rogozin spoke.
“No need for moment,” he said.
Charley held her breath, her heartbeat crashing against her ribs.
And then, after an agonizing eternity, Alexei Rogozin finally said the words she’d been longing to hear from the moment she’d first suggested this crazy-ass plan in Dorian’s study last night.
“Tell vampire king Alexei Rogozin accepts proposal.” He smiled at her—the first real one he’d offered—then gestured for her to reclaim her chair. “Now you must enjoy food. You eat like bird. Is not healthy.”
Charley laughed, happy to accept the invitation.
After brunch, Rogozin escorted her back out into the main restaurant. As they awaited the elevator, he said, “So tell me, what are we to do about my two traitors?”
“I won’t presume to tell you how to run your organization, Mr. Rogozin,” she said. “But I would like to deal with my uncle directly. We have some unresolved… family matters to settle. Once that’s done, I assure you, he won’t cause you any more trouble.”
An understanding smile spread across his face, and he reached out and touched her shoulder. “You are formidable woman, Ms. D’Amico. I understand why vampire king is so taken with you.”
“I’ll take it as a compliment.”
“As it was meant.” He gave her shoulder a friendly squeeze, then released her. “Tell him I look forward to hearing from him whenever time is right. We will be waiting.”
The elevator arrived, and she stepped inside, turning around to meet his eyes once more.
“Forgive my presumption,” he said, placing his hand against the doors to hold them open, “but if I may give you a word of advice?”
“Of course.”
“As demon in hell, I saw many, many wars. Many deaths. As demon on earth, I have seen many, many wars. Many deaths. I know your father was great loss to you. But revenge… It does not fill hole inside you. It only leads to more holes.” He shook his head, lost for a moment in his own thoughts. Then, glancing at her once more with a look she could only describe as pity, “Mourn your father, Ms. D’Amico. Avenge him if you must. But then? Let it go. Live your life. Enjoy time you have left, before…”
He trailed off and finally released the doors, smiling once more before turning away.
As the doors slid closed and the elevator began its descent, the unsaid words echoed through her soul.
Before Azerius comes to claim you.
Chapter Twenty-Four
“Is there nothing you can’t do, Charlotte D’Amico?”
Safely back in his bedroom at Ravenswood, Dorian cupped his woman’s face and stared into her eyes, still trying to process everything she’d told him about the meeting.
While he’d been crawling the walls of a nearby restaurant, hoping for the best but fearing the worst, she’d been dining with demons, altering the course of Dorian’s life. Of all their lives.
He’d been bloody terrified the entire time, cursing himself for allowing her to go through with it. Cursing himself for not turning her into a vampire when she’d asked, certain he’d left her weak and vulnerable. In those terrible hours, he told himself he’d finally do it—he’d turn her the moment they returned to Ravenswood, if only to give her that elusive advantage over all the enemies who might otherwise harm her.
But then, just when he was ready to storm into that hotel and steal her from the demonic clutches he was so certain had trapped her, she’d returned to him.
Safe. Whole. Overwhelmed, but relieved.
She’d done it. She’d succeeded in securing the deal.
Yes, there were details to work out and formalize. And no, they had no guarantees Rogozin wouldn’t fuck them as swiftly and thoroughly as Chernikov had.
But Charlotte had gone head-to-head with a powerful demon crew with little more than a laptop and a prayer, and she’d accomplished exactly what she’d set out to do.
Dorian had never been more proud of anyone as he’d been in that moment.
And in that moment he knew, without reservation, he’d finally grant her wish. He’d turn her into a vampire—not because he was afraid of her human frailties, but because he saw in her a strength and determination that refused to be dimmed, no matter how much darkness life had thrown at her.
He wouldn’t turn her to make her strong.
He would turn her because she was already strong, and becoming a vampire was her choice—one she’d made from the depths of the same inner badassery that had allowed her to face the demons. That had allowed her to survive her father’s death and her uncle’s cruelty. That had allowed her to look into the eyes of a monster and see the human soul inside.
His soul.
Dorian pressed a long, lingering kiss to her lips, then pulled back to admire those beaut
iful copper eyes once more. He could lose himself in them. In her.
How had she come into his life? How was it even possible she was his?
“Only one thing,” she said now, granting him the gift of a smile as she reached up to trace her fingers across his forehead. “I can’t read your thoughts.”
They were standing before the windows, and Dorian looked out through the glass, taking in the view of his father’s lands. His lands. “I was thinking about fate.”
“What do you mean?”
“For more than two centuries,” he said, “the Book of Lost Souls and the blade of the demon Azerius were buried here at Ravenswood. And a mere eighteen years ago, in a moment of abject desperation no father should ever have to face, yours promised you to that same demon. And somehow, across all the years, all the twists and turns, all the different possibilities, fate saw fit to bring us together.”
“So that’s it, then?” she teased, trailing her fingers down to unfasten the top buttons of his shirt, her touch making him shiver. “You think this was all some twist of fate? A stage play where we’re merely the actors?”
“Is that what you think?”
At his question, her fingers stilled over the next button, and the smile that had shone so brightly only moments ago faded. “I think we were both cursed with fathers who made terrible choices they convinced themselves were the right ones. And those choices—however terrible, however painful—set us on the collision course that ultimately brought us together. If you want to call it fate? Fine. Fate put me on your path.” She glanced up at him again, her eyes flashing with new fire. “But fate did not make me fall in love with you. It didn’t make us. We did this, Dorian. One kiss, one touch, one conversation, one heartbeat at a time. At least, that’s how I feel. If you feel differently, I—”
“Charlotte.” He covered her hand with his own and pressed it against his chest, his heart banging like a wild thing beneath her touch. “Do you feel that? For more than two hundred and fifty years, I scarcely remembered it even existed. And now, it beats again—because of you. For you. What I feel… My love for you… It’s not some cosmic whim or trick of the gods. It’s beyond explanation. Beyond words. Beyond all things. Don’t ever question it.”
