Revenge & Rapture: A Snarky Urban Fantasy Detective Series (The Jezebel Files Book 4)

by Deborah Wilde

  The sash was sticky and the angle from which I attempted to ease it open was awkward, so I took it slow, careful not to make any noise or break the glass.

  There was the faintest squeak of the gate hinge and a figure slipped silently into the backyard. Moonlight illuminated Levi’s face as if it were broad daylight.

  My chest grew tight. No amount of wishing turned Levi’s eyes from this cold wintry blue, his expression schooled into an unreadable mask, to that mesmerizing deep navy right before he would kiss me, back when I was the center of his universe.

  I swayed. My foot slipped and I crashed to the ledge on my knee, clinging to the windowsill by the tips of my fingers.

  Levi took a step forward, then stopped. There had been a brief period of time when I could have fallen, secure that he’d catch me.

  A muscle twitched in my jaw. I pulled myself up and adjusted my hold on the window frame, sliding it up to allow me entrance. Hauling myself into the bathroom, I admonished myself that I wouldn’t look back. Again.

  He was gone.

  Chapter 2

  Leaving my boots under the clawfoot bathtub, I snuck down the hallway to Isaac’s study, knowing its location from a previous visit here. The night everything had gone to hell.

  But I’d climbed out of hell before, hadn’t I? I could do it again. And this time I had a war to win.

  Slipping inside his office, I flicked on a penlight, half-covering the beam to mute the light. The room smelled faintly of a peppery spice. Search as I might, there were no architectural oddities concealing a hidden space. I shook out every one of the dozen or so books on the shelves and rummaged through the contents of the unlocked drawers, but failed to find a helpful villainous plan written in the blood of his enemies.

  A pair of sharp red daggers had somehow appeared in my hands, despite me having no recollection of making them. I tucked them into my leather belt and sat down in Isaac’s springy desk chair.

  The chair didn’t tower over the other seats, which would have created a subtle psychological power dynamic. No awards lauding Isaac’s greatness crowded the walls. Behind his desk was a watercolor of a forest here in the Pacific Northwest that didn’t signify much. Nothing in the space indicated aspirations of godhood.

  According to all the digging we’d done on him in the past couple of months, Isaac was a respected member of the business community. Public personas were like curated spaces, and Isaac had perfected his. I admired the intelligence it took to maintain this flawless image, but one’s home was another matter entirely. This study was his inner sanctum, so where were his tells?

  A half-smoked cigar had been extinguished in a crystal ashtray on his desk next to an empty tumbler and a couple of newspapers in a neat stack. I sniffed the drink. Bourbon. A glass of expensive alcohol and a cigar before bed while perusing the day’s headlines. Isaac was tech-savvy: he’d have been more than comfortable getting his news online. This smacked of ritual.

  He liked his rituals; that much I knew from his habitual care of his wind-up clock engraved with a quote from the Old Testament that was tied to his code name. If he’d gotten it when he became one of the Ten, then he’d hidden his Chariot activities for years. That took an ironclad ruthlessness.

  Isaac had played his games for a long time, using and discarding pieces as he saw fit. Outmaneuvering him would be delicious.

  I ran the light over the top page of the half-folded international business section, curious about which of the fairly dry articles interested him, when a discolored patch caught my eye. I pulled off my gloves, and touched a finger to the sticky paper, sniffing it to verify that the stain was bourbon.

  Why had Isaac spilled his drink? The story was a brief piece on the death of Deepa Anand, a Mundane woman in Bangalore, India, in her fifties, who owned a string of private finance companies, aka money lenders. It briefly discussed her role in the inflated interest rate scandal that had rocked the country a few years back, and that she’d died suffering complications from heart disease while on pilgrimage at a place called Char Dham.

  Flicking off the penlight, I leaned back in Isaac’s chair, twirling his cigar butt between my fingers and turning over the potential importance of this article. What if each of the Ten contributed something to Chariot, like how my teammates contributed to our mission? Isaac would be in charge of cybersecurity, just like Priya. Deepa would have been able to provide private funding and easily launder money.

  Chariot may have had the power and reach of a global corporation, but it wasn’t actually a single entity. It was more akin to a consortium of interests, some legal, most not, presided over by the Ten. Our side had unearthed only a handful of their ventures, mostly the illegal ones. The few legal companies we suspected were tied to Chariot were mired in confusing paperwork trails and shell companies within shell companies. Even Priya and all her hacking skills found them impossible to untangle.

  I stiffened at a creak outside the door, straining to hear footfalls, but it was the house settling. If Deepa was a member of the Ten, my Attendant, Rafael Behar, would be ecstatic at learning her identity. It could prove a valuable new direction to find Chariot’s one piece of the Sefer Raziel HaMalakh.

  This mystic text written by the archangel Raziel had broken into five scrolls when it first fell to earth. Should Chariot get their hands on the rest of them and reassemble the book, they’d have the means to attain immortality, reshaping the world as living gods who cared only about themselves.

  As I slipped into the darkened hallway, a figure stepped from the shadows. I palmed one of my blades. No one in this house knew I had magic, and I didn’t have a reasonable explanation for being in this room. If this was my coming out party, only one of us was going to be alive at the end to celebrate.

  A fragile-looking woman stood there clutching her bathrobe with her mouth hanging open.

  Nicola Montefiore was trapped in a marriage with the brute, but I couldn’t allow her to sound the alarm.

  There was a loud snore from the bedroom, startling us both. Shaking her head vigorously, Nicola pressed a finger to her lips and motioned for me to go. Could I trust her not to rat me out? Did I have a choice?

  I sighed. I wasn’t going to hurt Levi’s mom. Making the daggers vanish, I fled into the bathroom, grabbed my boots, and slipped back into the night, retracing my steps down to the backyard. My footsteps quickened when I came around the front of the house. I had a potential lead and best of all, the Tesla was gone.

  I’d reached Moriarty and safety when someone grabbed me from behind.

  My body reacted before my brain could, my fingers gripping Levi’s biceps. His suit jacket was soft to the touch, but his muscles were corded steel. In my mind’s eye they rippled, Levi’s naked body poised above mine, and a devilish grin on his face as he thrust into me.

  Swallowing, I jerked sideways. Levi had made me believe in a foolish, wonderful future, and then taken it away, leaving this gaping emptiness. Priya was wrong about rage. It wasn’t unhealthy. It was what kept me buoyant when beneath me all was dark and deadly, threatening to pull me under.

  “What the hell were you doing?” he hissed.

  I stepped back against his oaky amber scotch and chocolate magic scent, but in our time together, he’d marked me, body and soul. There was no escaping him. “Take a wild guess.”

  Mrs. Hudson barreled out of the car, almost falling out in a somersault, her leash tangling between her feet in her haste to get to Levi.

  “If you’d been caught? What then?” He bent down to scratch her behind one ear and the puppy’s leg thumped in doggie delight.

  “Were you worried about me or the repercussions for the House?” I said.

  “I’m always worried about my House.”

  While I wouldn’t necessarily enjoy punching him in the throat, the idea held more appeal than, say, going home, putting on pj’s, and flaking out in front of Netflix. “I’m aware of your priorities.”

  Levi motioned to his parents’ house. “
And I’m aware of yours.”

  His smile was sharp. I balanced on that same knife’s edge, my every gesture ruthlessly cutting those who mattered most. His eyes glinted; he wanted me to slash back.

  What good would it do for both of us to die by a thousand tiny cuts?

  “So long as we’re both clear.” I grabbed Mrs. Hudson’s leash to herd her back into the car.

  “Crystal.”

  I didn’t watch him leave.

  After a quick walk around the block back home for the pug to do her business, I crashed hard, only to awake groggily at a shrill ringing. My bedroom was totally dark, which meant it was early afternoon. I fumbled for my phone, wiping phantom grit off my face. What day was it? Processing… right. Thursday.

  Mrs. Hudson was nowhere to be seen, so Priya, the puppy hog, had her.

  “Hello?” I mumbled.

  “Ashira, I need to speak with you now.”

  I shook my head to clear the cobwebs because Talia sounded uncharacteristically agitated. “What’s wrong?”

  “Not on the phone.”

  “You want me to come to your office?” I said.

  “No!”

  Talia was scared I’d out myself in the middle of her workplace when I’d done nothing but show restraint and consideration for her position. My own mother didn’t trust me. I kicked my covers onto the floor.

  “My office,” I said. “Half an hour.” I jumped out of bed, already grabbing clothes, and got dressed in record time, spending five minutes looking for my car keys before finding them in my boot. Damn dog.

  I hustled out the door, ignoring the other apartment belonging to Arkady Choi, the person formally known as my friend and neighbor. I wasn’t speaking to Arkady, since I had yet to discover what he was lying to me about and he had yet to confess, but he was still a member of Team Jezebel.

  Technically.

  We’d decided to keep him on. Well, Rafael and Priya had decided, and I’d reluctantly agreed after they’d worn me down. However, there hadn’t been much for him to do. Rafael and I did all the surveillance work on Isaac, so I hadn’t seen much of Arkady, which was fine by me.

  Shockingly, Moriarty cut me a break, given my haste, and started with only a minor complaint.

  City crews had worked diligently to clear debris off the streets, but evidence of the riot was very much present in the boarded-up windows, bent and missing street signs, one burned-out husk of a car, and the workers installing a new front door on my office building.

  I quickly checked in with the game design owners, confessing my role in the destruction of their laptops. They were happy to have the mystery solved of why they’d shown up this morning to find a man asleep across their doorway, who’d bolted awake, wide-eyed, threatening any who passed like a demented Gandalf. They also assured me that their insurance would take care of any damages.

  None of the other offices on the ground level or the second floor had been disturbed, I was pleased to note.

  Talia waited for me in the reception area of the shared workspace where Cohen Investigations was located. She twisted the hem of her raw silk blazer, her eyes wide and haunted.

  My stomach lurched and I hurried to unlock my office. “What happened?”

  She sank into the chair across from my desk and pushed her phone to me with trembling hands.

  I hit play on the video and gasped. It was footage of me at the aquarium gala the night my magic manifested. The recording showed me pinning Levi down and holding a knife to him, but from the angle, you couldn’t see that I’d also created that dagger from my blood.

  I played it three more times, ruthlessly examining it for what it actually revealed. The video didn’t even show that I had enhanced strength because I’d jumped off him so quickly. “It appears that I threatened Levi with a knife. There is no proof of my abilities and all the records state otherwise.”

  Levi had destroyed the House registration application when I started working for him, so there wasn’t even that.

  Talia half-laughed, half-sobbed. “They know. Look at the text that came with it.”

  It was from an unknown number. If you don’t step down from the party, I will reveal that your daughter is a Rogue. You have ten days to resign. Choose your futur wisely.

  They’d left the “e” off future. No one blackmailed my mother, especially not some illiterate douchebag. And why ten days? That seemed rather generous. Didn’t blackmailers usually have a three-day rule? I checked the calendar. My deadline was June 14.

  Someone out there was aware that I had magic but had sat on that fact until now. Who? And why? If this was Chariot’s doing, why make Talia resign when Isaac was an ardent supporter?

  What if it was someone much closer? I fast-forwarded through the video one more time. What would Arkady have to gain in blackmailing Talia like this? If he intended to undermine me, there were far easier methods. Given all he knew about Jezebels, he could sell me out to Chariot no problem. I copied the text message down. Was this some misguided attempt to protect Levi? That didn’t make sense either. Despite Levi’s many issues with Talia, he’d never condone blackmail to take her down.

  If this wasn’t coming from someone with a vendetta against me…

  “Do you have any enemies?” I said.

  “The entire Nefesh community,” she said flatly.

  “Most Nefesh have no idea who you are or that you wrote that bill. Whoever sent this is attempting to use me against you. It feels personal.”

  “There’s no one. My life isn’t a television show of secrets and scandal.” She stuffed the phone in her purse. “At least it wasn’t until recently.”

  She was scared and upset. I made allowances for that and swallowed my sarcastic retort.

  “What do I tell them?” she said.

  “Nothing. Don’t respond. They don’t have proof, but if you reply it looks like you have something to hide. I’ll take care of this. I promise.”

  “Your magic is going to cost me everything.” Her naked pain undid me.

  “Mom.” I reached for her.

  She shook her head, her hands up, and walked away, leaving nothing behind but the scent of her rose perfume.

  We’d been doing so well. Sure, our relationship was built on a heavy helping of avoidance, but our weekly breakfasts were actually enjoyable. She’d even walked Mrs. Hudson with me along the seawall a couple of times. I rubbed my temples, feeling like a grenade had been lobbed into my day.

  The only saving grace was that the pin had not been pulled. Yet.

  I phoned Rafael to tell him about Deepa. He was pleased with my findings and agreed that this might be the break we needed. Happy that the day seemed to be turning around, I hung up, intending to contact Priya to get any dirt on the dead woman. Much of Pri’s time had been taken up with House business lately, but she could never say no to some good old-fashioned fun unearthing dirty secrets.

  That’s when Nicola Montefiore walked into my office and said, “I want to hire you.”

  So much for catching a break. In the back of my head, a pin slipped out from a grenade.

  Ka-boom.

  Chapter 3

  Instead of answering, I put a finger to my lips and shut down my phone, motioning for her to do the same. Who knew what tabs Mr. Cybersecurity kept on his wife?

  For good measure, I locked up both of our cells in Eleanor’s office, along with my laptop to really nail that paranoia. The graphic designer wasn’t in, but we had each other’s keys. Feeling that I’d secured our environment as best as I could, I returned to my office and indicated Nicola should speak.

  “I want to leave Isaac.”

  I opened and closed my mouth several times in an excellent guppy impersonation. “Mrs. Montefiore—”

  “Nicola, please.” Levi’s mother had always struck me as a quiet woman, slight of frame and backbone. Today her spine was ramrod straight, and there was a determined set to her chin and the tone of her Italian-accented words.

  “Did something
happen last night?” Had Isaac found out about my nocturnal visit and taken out his anger on his wife? “Are you in physical danger if you remain in your house?”

  “No. Isaac has never laid a hand on me, but…” She fiddled with the artfully knotted scarf around her neck. “I don’t know what that scroll was that I found when I was cleaning out Levi’s old bedroom a couple of months ago, but I know it’s important.” She gave a very Italian shrug of her shoulders. “Why else would it be hidden?”

  Why else, indeed?

  “But it was not put there by Isaac. He didn’t know about Levi’s hiding spot, and even if he did, he would never have used it.” Her coral-painted mouth twisted. “You know about Isaac and Levi.”

  Interesting that she hadn’t phrased that as a question. “I do.”

  She nodded. “Levi didn’t put it there either. How would he have gotten hold of something like that when he was a child? And now, he is a man with his own home.”

  “Yeah,” I said, more wistfully than I intended.

  “You know something about this. You can help.” Oh shit. Nicola going down the path of this scroll and using it as some justification to finally escape Isaac’s clutches was dangerous.

  “I’m working exclusively for an insurance company and no longer take on domestic cases.” I scribbled a phone number down on a sticky note. “I highly recommend this divorce lawyer. She can assist you in finding some way to leave—”

  “It was…” Nicola pursed her lips, then sighed. “It was Adam, wasn’t it?”

  “Adam?” My voice was reedy, my smile more of a grimace.

  “Sì. That’s the only thing I can think of. He hid the scroll when he came to see Isaac that night. Many years ago. The last time I ever saw your father.”

  My mouth fell open. “H-how?”

  She smiled, the amusement lighting her face making her look so much like her son that I had to briefly look away. “Everyone always underestimates the wives and mothers, but we know more than we let on, bella.”