“Do you still think that about me?” I said.
He rubbed his hand over his mouth. “I think that you’ve always acted from your heart.”
“So it’s well-intentioned when I burn things to the ground.”
“You weren’t the only one hurt, nor were you some innocent bystander in our relationship. You made some pretty big fucking choices, Ash. And it matters—” His voice caught and he swore under his breath. “It matters that you act from your heart because sometimes it’s the only goddamn thing that gets me through this.” He waved a hand between us.
He’d acted from the heart, too. That’s what was so damned unfair. If Levi had been slightly less heartless, he wouldn’t have cared about Isaac, and I wouldn’t have lost him.
But I wouldn’t have wanted him, either.
None of which explained his current request. I didn’t even like my family drama, so why on earth would I want to cannonball into the ocean that was the Montefiores’? There had to be a better way. “Why can’t you contact Nicola directly?”
A muscle ticked in his jaw and he looked away. “She’s not speaking to me.”
I tried to add fangs to the horned golf club but my pen was dry. I shook it, trying to get some ink. “On account of you being an asshole.”
He nodded somberly. “Yeah. But not just with her.” He pulled a vial of clear liquid out of his pocket.
“Blank.” I stashed the vial in my desk drawer. “You got it faster than I imagined you would. And personally delivered, even. Is it supposed to be a bribe?”
“It’s an apology. I would never renege on our business agreement and I’m sorry for saying otherwise.”
“Got no one else to turn to, huh?” I snickered.
But he just sat there, folded his hands on my desk, and waited. “Is that a comfortable fallback position for you?” he said.
My pen tore through the paper. Still dry. “I beg your pardon?”
His blue eyes were still distant, but it was more like looking at how dark and deep an ocean was instead of the coldness of a glacier. “You always accuse me of that. Of using you as a constant last resort, like I’m only here because I have no one left. It’s getting old, Ash, and you know it. You’re the person that even now, when you’re annoying me so much I want to light my own hair on fire, I trust in ways I don’t with anyone else.”
My office was so quiet, the only sound was the air conditioner clunking on above us.
Levi pushed his chair back. “Look, if this is asking too much with my mom, just say so. I’m an adult. I’ll figure something out.”
Levi had come to me, not because he had to, but because he trusted me. I’d been furious when he’d confided in me at the beach because it presumed a level of intimacy between us that he himself had cut off. It was selfish and hurtful of him to put me in that position, especially when I needed an emotionally clean break.
Was it different with trust? What role did I see Levi playing in my fight against Chariot if I no longer trusted him? Was he simply the bank? I didn’t know, and I didn’t need to for this request. The smoother his relationship with Nicola, the better it was for my case. Levi could get to his mom faster than I could in the event of an emergency.
I shoved the dead pen in the Baker Street Boys mug with its fellow ink-impotent compatriots. “Unclench your testicles, Leviticus. I’ll help.”
He laid a protective hand over his groin, but at my laugh, slid a swanky silver pen out of his back pocket and wrote “thank you” on my pad. He left the pen on top of the paper. “Refills are available online,” he said.
It was the same pen I’d used to sign the House registration papers when my powers had first manifested. I’d been so cocky, so certain of the path my life would take now that I had magic. That supposedly straight road to career success had turned into a twisty path through a dark forest, filled with personal pain and loss, but in taking it, I’d found new depths of resilience and courage. My scars were hard-won, but I was stronger for them.
“Do you bring your royal writing instruments with you everywhere in case you have to sign some edict?” I said, but I grabbed the pen and stored it in my desk drawer.
“No, I have my wax seal for that.”
We took separate cars to the swanky golf club that hosted the annual charity event. As usual there was a lot of construction happening in the city. I passed one development on the west side where the tall plywood barriers that had been erected to keep the public off the site had been plastered over with giant flyers saying, “Nefesh rights are human rights.”
Some guy was methodically scraping them off while his partner papered up the opposite Mundane viewpoint. Two pedestrians stopped and a shouting match ensued.
Even if we stopped the legislation, how would we stop the hate?
The only good thing about the tournament was the complimentary valet parking that came with the ticket that Levi had purchased for me. Moriarty sputtered and belched smoke the second the snotty valet got behind the wheel.
I ignored the valet’s calls for me to come back and headed into the clubhouse. It was the who’s-who of Nefesh and Mundane business leaders, philanthropists, and generally loaded people. Unlike other galas I’d been to, there were no divvied-up spaces. The most they’d done was to safely stagger tee-off times between magic and non-magic parties. The pained fake smiles on people’s faces when forced to make idle chit-chat at the water stations or waiting for canapes was a joy to behold.
I stole a volunteer badge off a table and pinned it to the black blazer that had been in my undercover outfit bag in Moriarty’s trunk. It complimented my no-nonsense blonde bobbed wig, blue-colored contacts, and the stiletto sandals I carefully made my way around on.
One young socialite in a darling skort-and-visor ensemble immediately flagged me down and demanded I get her another drink.
I gave her the very special smile I saved for rich entitled assholes, but she was too tipsy to appreciate it. “I’ll get right on that,” I said.
In need of one further prop, I found the room where the volunteer coordinator was manning things. He was on the phone, with three other people waiting for him, so I snagged a clipboard with the entry registrations and a pen, throwing him a thumbs up.
He nodded and waved me off.
Props secured, I headed outside, positioning myself in the corner of the large terrace to scan the crowd. Beside me stood a stocky man in a green polo shirt and aviator sunglasses, who was nursing a beer and watching proceedings down on the lawn.
The most interesting activity, in my opinion, was journalist Leah Nichols interviewing Jackson Wu. A loose group of people stood off to the side watching the exchange. I recognized his assistant and a couple of other party flunkies, but even if we came face to face, none of them would see through my disguise and question my presence.
Levi believed that procuring proof of the money laundering would be enough to force Jackson to resign and not only undermine the party’s credibility but kill the legislation entirely. I, however, had my doubts. Sure, a man whose entire platform was based on anti-Nefesh sentiment should go down in flames when his business dealings with a magic criminal community were revealed, but Jackson was a consummate politician. He’d find some way to wriggle out of it and come out squeaky clean.
From his body language, Jackson handled Nichols, a veteran reporter, with ease, and when their interview had wrapped up, displayed an easygoing charm with people wanting a moment of his time.
What would stop Jackson from simply denying the allegations? It’d be a case of he said/she said, where the she in question, Olivia, was dead. Jackson specialized in spinning issues.
What hard evidence would trump his denials? I didn’t know yet, but there was one hypothesis I could verify.
Right after I found Nicola.
I finally tracked her down getting out of a golf cart with the rest of her party, stylish in capris and a structured tank top. The woman had crazy toned biceps.
I walked over
to the group with a friendly-but-puzzled smile on my face. “Is one of you Nicola Montefiore?” I waved the clipboard. “There’s an issue with your registration form.”
Oh, the power of a clipboard. It was mightier than a sword. Her friends said they’d catch up to her after.
“What is the problem?” Nicola said, with a kind smile.
“It’s me,” I said, tapping a blank field on the top form and handing her the pen. “Ash.”
“Has something happened?” Nicola filled out the form. Nothing in her face or body language gave away the concern in her tone, she merely conveyed a vague impatience at having to redo paperwork. This woman was good.
“Levi asked if you would meet with him.”
Nicola’s hand stilled before she continued writing. “I don’t see what that would accomplish.”
“Thank you for your patience,” I said brightly and took the clipboard back. As I did, I slid an old-fashioned key into her hand which Levi had given to me to pass on. He hadn’t offered an explanation for it and I hadn’t asked, but I was damn curious.
Nicola turned it over in her palm, her eyes wide, before closing her fingers tightly around it. “Where is he?”
“Meeting room B in the clubhouse basement.”
She sighed. “This doesn’t change anything. Tell him not to contact me, ragazza.” She stuffed the key in her pocket and walked off across the lawn.
I pulled out my phone, but it seemed cruel to text Levi that his mother didn’t want to speak to him.
Me: Did your operatives obtain a photo of Luca? If so, now would be a good time to put your illusion skills to work and see if Jackson recognizes the Hedon contact.
Imperious 1 responded that he had a photo and added a brief description of the man so I’d know what he looked like.
Sadly, my brilliant idea was a bust.
Jackson didn’t give any indication that he recognized the swarthy man who accidentally knocked into him. Levi apologized and kept going while Jackson shrugged it off with a smile.
It was worth a try.
I tailed Levi, still disguised as Luca, back inside the clubhouse.
After the heat and crowd, the empty basement lined with golf clubs mounted on either side of the hallway was a cool relief. Did the male members come down here and compare putters?
“Excuse me,” I said, pitching my voice higher than normal, “you’re not supposed to be in this area.”
Levi-as-the-swarthy-man turned around, smiling. “My mist—” He narrowed his eyes and approached me. “Not bad, but you look better as a brunette.”
I smoothed a hand over my blazer. “Oh, come on. Different hair, clothing, eye color, body language, I should have fooled you for longer than two seconds.”
“You’ve always been too real with me for a costume to hide who you are.” He adjusted my wig slightly, his fingers brushing my cheek.
Goosebumps trailed in the wake of his touch. My lips parted and—
Levi shoved me to the ground.
A flurry of golf clubs flew over our heads to embed in the wall like knives.
The man in the green polo shirt stood there, four golf clubs now hovering around him. “You should have stayed in Hedon.”
Ha! Jackson had recognized Levi’s Luca illusion.
The clubs fired at us like missiles.
I rolled Levi under me and locked my magic armor into place.
“I don’t need your protection,” he said, attempting to shove me off him.
“Oh, shut uuuugh.” I let out a series of stuttered groans as clubs slammed into my back. The armor protected me, but it was still a pummeling. Grabbing a putter, I jumped up, brandishing it.
The man gaped at my armor. “What’s that?”
Had he never seen blood red spiky full-body armor before? I ran a hand over it like a show model. “Oh this? It’s designer.”
I whipped the club back at him, but he held up a hand and it dropped to the ground.
Heels tapped down the staircase. “Are you still here?” Nicola called out, reaching the bottom of the stairs.
Levi jerked his head in her direction. He tried to cover quickly and distract the man by tapping a club against the floor. “You want me? Come and get me.”
Clubs tore free of their wall mounts and flew at an unsuspecting Nicola, who screamed and froze, protecting her body with her hands.
I manifested a long whip, hooked it around her ankle, and pulled.
Nicola toppled over with a yelp, while the clubs crashed into the wall and clattered in a heap.
I ran to her and crouched down. “Are you okay?”
“Sì.” She rubbed her ankle. “Just startled.”
Our attacker cried out. Levi had straddled him and was methodically and coldly punching him in the face. His Luca illusion remained perfectly intact and the combination of those factors was one of the most chilling things I’d ever seen.
I dragged Levi off of the man, who moaned and curled into himself, his face a bloody pulp.
Levi’s blue eyes were scarily dead, like when he overtaxed himself with his magic, and there was blood on his fists and his shirt.
“Hey.” I touched his face. “Come back to me.”
He shook himself free. “I’m fine,” he said brusquely.
Nicola hesitantly approached us. “Ragazzo.”
He gave her a look that was so lost, it broke my heart. “Mi dispiace, mama.”
She wrapped her arms around him, and he buried his head in her shoulder.
I hauled the man in the polo shirt into an empty meeting room to give the Montefiores their privacy, and phoned Miles.
A while later, Miles was interrogating me in his office about what had happened for the tenth time. Our attacker had been “detained” by his people for questioning, since neither Levi nor I were in a position to come forward with our complaints and have him formally charged. We couldn’t risk either of our true identities being attached to this.
Nicola had insisted at the clubhouse that she was fine and her friend would drive her home.
“Get this guy to turn on Jackson,” I said, “and we can leverage that into a confession along with the proof of the money laundering.” I removed the now-warm ice pack I’d been given for my back, and stood up.
The water feature in the corner of Miles’s office burbled soothingly, and fresh patterns had been raked into one of the many sand gardens the Head of Security tended. Real plants populated the space as well, making it look like one big conservatory.
Miles moved from plant to plant, watering each with a small old-fashioned metal cannister. “You going to see him?”
“I promised Nicola that I’d have Levi call her once he’d been examined, since she couldn’t come to HQ with us.” I braced myself for one of his trademark admonishments, but all he did was nod and continue his gardening.
I got to the infirmary to find Levi sitting on one of the beds in a clean shirt, with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face. “What’s up, buttercup?” I said.
“They’re making me rest when I have a House to run.”
“So? Cower them into agreeing with you and go about your merry way.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?” I pulled up a chair and sat down.
“Patrice threatened to quit if I ignored his medical opinion one more time.” He punched the pillow, resettling it behind his back. “Apparently there is a shortage of Nightingales willing to put up with me.”
“Imagine that.” He looked so petulant that I almost laughed, but I was wrung out. “Call your mother and tell her you’re okay.”
“I did.” He looked me over. “I’m glad you lost the wig and those contacts.”
My mind flashed back to the last time he’d touched that wig. When I’d almost—that was my cue to leave. “Yup. Me too.”
Levi and I weren’t small-talk people anymore. We assisted each other when necessary; otherwise, we minded our own business. I’d almost made it to the door when I blurted out,
“What was the key?”
Sherlock Holmes was my idol; I could be forgiven for my insatiable curiosity.
Levi gazed out the window.
So much for that. I took another couple of steps.
“It was for Mom’s parents’ apartment in Rome. The place was sold years ago.”
“Uh, okay. Well, I’ve gotta go pick up my car. It’s still at the golf course.” Levi had been transported back to the House, and Miles had driven the Tesla—and me—to HQ, so he could question me along the way.
“When I was little,” Levi said, “and things at home got… bad, I’d show Mom the key and say we should run away. She never would, but it made her smile.” He waved his hand and an image of a young happy Levi with his equally happy mother appeared. “I wrapped myself in illusions until I no longer had to see the truth. But the thing about illusions?” He squeezed his fist and the image fell apart. “Yelling at her was a wake-up call.” He shook his head. “No. That’s not true. It took a lecture on choices that I wasn’t able to ignore. I didn’t help my mother leave. I was so focused on showing him up, proving him wrong about me, that I left her there, and provided myself with a thousand tiny illusions on why this was right.”
He was confiding in me again. That asshole.
I manifested a blood red pin and poked him in the hand. “Snap out of it.”
There was a very familiar stream of Italian cursing.
“You stabbed me? Again?” he roared.
I made the pin vanish. “It was a pinprick, you drama queen.”
“Sane people don’t go around stabbing others either over donuts or for no reason at all.”
“You really want to go down that rabbit hole of how sane people behave? Did they get the blood stains out of your other shirt today?”
Levi sullenly didn’t answer my perfectly reasonable question, and instead rubbed the skin where I’d pricked it. It wasn’t even red, the big baby.
“My question about the key did not require all that sharing, especially the part where you’d listened to me,” I said. “What am I supposed to do with that? It doesn’t change anything between us. I’ll assist you in mutually beneficial situations, but that’s it.”
Revenge & Rapture: A Snarky Urban Fantasy Detective Series (The Jezebel Files Book 4) Page 13
