by C. S. Wilde
For now.
Leon’s lips formed a thin line. “Where’s Benedict?”
“Theodore’s death hit him hard, my prince. He’s been healing.”
“If by healing you mean getting himself drunk out of his wits, and fornicating until his dick falls off, you better redefine the term.” Leon stepped forward, every bit the bison about to charge. “You’re dragging him down, Charles. You should know better than to mess with my family.”
The vamp shrunk underneath the future king’s bulky form, his lips quivering. “My prince, he’s in mourning. It’s understandable that—”
“You’re a disgrace to the government you work for.”
Not a lie, actually.
“Do your job as a diplomat, and assure the continent that the Night Court remains strong.” Leon added, analyzing Charles from head to toe with utter disgust. “We’ve suffered direct hits, but with the detectives here to help, I have no doubt we’ll prevail. Quote me on that, do you understand?”
Odd that Leon treated Charles as an employee, not a diplomat who could report him to the continent at any time. Addicts were easy to control, though, a fact the royal family clearly played to their advantage.
Charles’ lips curved down as if he’d eaten something bitter. “Yes, my prince.”
“Write it down or you might forget.” Leon bent forward, scrutinizing every inch of the vamp.
The behavior didn’t match Bast’s older brother, but Mera supposed that a ruler, even a kind one, must have a strong hand. Besides, Leon could be overprotective when it came to his brothers, and Charles Grey wasn’t a good influence to Benedict.
Well, to anyone, really.
A flash of bitterness passed by the vamp’s eyes. “The crown changed your father. Don’t let it change you, my prince.”
Leon glared at him with a combination of disgust and hate. “I’m stronger and better than my father,” he assured through clenched teeth. “Now, get out of my sight.”
Charles bowed at the prince and started to walk away, but as he passed by Mera, his stare caught hers.
A secret swirled behind Charles’ green irises; she couldn’t tell how she knew, she simply did.
He hurriedly looked away, but he’d been busted. Mera made a note to pay him a visit later.
“If Benedict doesn’t recompose, I’ll hold you accountable, Charles. You don’t want that to happen.” Leon warned before the vamp reached the door. “The coronation will happen in two days and my family will be there.” A muscle in his jaw ticked. “What remains of it, anyway.”
“Yes, my prince.” With a curt bow, the bloodsucker left.
“Leon…” Bast started.
“Is there anything else you wish to address, Detective?” he countered coldly; a mighty king not at all like Bast’s older brother.
Leon had obviously taken what Bast said about his good heart a bit too seriously.
“No,” Bast muttered, straightening his spine. “Do make sure those guards are ready, and that they check your food.”
“Will do.”
Damn Night Princes and their pride...
“I can lend you my pin-pen.” Mera pulled the device from her jacket’s pocket. She’d brought it to the palace to confirm the poison that had killed Vinci—a necessity for filing a report later. “It already sent the results to my laptop, so I don’t need it anymore. You can poke your food with this device and it will find traces of poison.”
Leon’s lips curled in disgust, as most fae’s did when facing technology.
“Your guards can’t check your food completely,” she argued, “not unless they taste it.”
“After Vinci? Out of the question,” Leon snapped.
“I know. Look, it’s either using this pin-pen, or getting poisoned and dying a horrible death. Your choice.”
He watched her and the device dubiously, but eventually gave in.
“I must go to Master Raes,” Bast stated the moment they landed before the precinct’s door. “He has connections on the black market. If we find who sold the poison to Corvus, maybe we can trace his location.”
Mera nodded, glad that her partner was returning to his usual self.
Hollowcliff’s finest.
The air behind them suddenly rumbled, and a strange sensation settled in Mera’s stomach. She had a bad feeling about this, whatever ‘this’ might be.
A circle of night and stars slashed through the empty space, as if a void was swallowing the air. In an eye blink, Corvus appeared before them.
He had dark circles under his eyes, his cheeks sunken in.
Pulling her gun, Mera aimed, but Bast was already pushing her behind him. As if she needed the freaking protection!
Assface.
“You’ve lost your fucking mind!” Bast growled, his night thrumming inside him, like a beast ready to pounce.
“Bark as much as you want, malachai.” Corvus didn’t show any emotion as he raised his wrists. “I’m here to turn myself in.”
Chapter 22
Bast would get a confession from Corvus today, even if it was the last thing he did.
Dragging a chair before the closed cell, he sat down and hunched over his knees, his fingers intertwined.
Silence swallowed the precinct, heavy and awkward, as he stared at Corvus.
The prick reclined on the cell’s marbled bench, the back of his head leaning against the concrete wall. He peered at Bast with the same gravity, and that thing Mera once said about them being similar rushed to mind.
No. Kitten might be a great detective, but she’d missed the mark. Bast was nothing like this sarking suket.
Mera had left to Charles’ house in order to question the vamp, mostly because she sensed he might be hiding something. A waste of time, really, since their culprit had surrendered, but at least this gave Bast the freedom to do whatever he wanted to Corvus.
Well, not exactly.
He’d promised Mera he wouldn’t hurt the baku, assuring her that he’d be fine, and that interrogating his brother alone might bring him closure—halle, even Bast didn’t buy the bullcrap pouring out of his mouth.
Mera didn’t either, of course. She was smarter than that.
As she headed for the door, she turned and stared at him dead in the eye. “I’d hate to be forced to arrest, or kill you, Bast. So don’t make me.”
With that, she left.
It was obviously a test, one he feared he might not pass. Well, it wasn’t his fault if Mera had more faith in him than Bast himself, was it?
“The entire cell is coated in iron dust,” he warned Corvus, clenching his teeth at the sight of the shig. “You won’t be able to winnow or use your magic.”
“I don’t intend to. I gave myself in, baku. Remember?”
The prick had a point.
“Why did you kill Theo?” Bast pushed, reaching for a full-on confession.
Not a hint of emotion flashed on his brother’s face. Corvus’ stare weighed mountains on Bast’s shoulders, his silence suffocating, yet Bast had expected nothing less of this cold-blooded psycho.
If he were to get a confession, he would need to be more resourceful.
“You slashed Theo’s throat. You’ve always been a cruel bastard, but this…” He shook his head.
Nothing. Not a tick of a muscle.
Vicious malachai…
“Theo, for the little we saw of him, always tried bringing some sense into Ben’s head,” Bast went on, his chest heavy with sorrow. “His efforts were destroyed by the disease that you are, Corvus. So tell me! How did it feel to end your own brother’s life?”
He kept watching Bast with canary irises that revealed nothing. With his sunken cheeks, and dark circles under his eyes, Corvus looked terrible. Like he hadn’t slept or eaten in ages.
Good. Considering everything he’d done, he should feel miserable.
“I wish Theo hadn’t gone to the monastery when we were young,” Bast muttered, a knot tying in his throat as he leaned back on his ch
air. “I wish we had known him better.”
“So do I.”
The fucking audacity!
Bast raised his head, anger pulsing in his veins. “You don’t get to say that,” he spat.
Keeping his fists away from Corvus would be an impossible feat.
His brother’s mouth set in a grim line. He didn’t reply, merely kept watching Bast with that gut-wrenching stare that said a world of things he couldn’t grasp.
Losing his patience, he slammed a foot on the floor. “Admit it, Corvus!”
He didn’t, of course. No matter how loud Bast barked and growled, his brother wouldn’t confess.
The prick was smart. Sneaky, too.
Cracking his knuckles, Bast stood from the chair. He walked in circles before the cell, as if he were the caged animal, not Corvus.
“You tried killing Leon. How dare you attack the one fae in this world who loves us as much as Mom does? Who was a better father to us than our own?”
A flash of hurt passed over Corvus’ face, vanishing as quickly as it came. “I love our big brother. I’m grateful for what he did for us; what he gave up for our sake. I was there as he faced all his struggles, always by his side, while you were gone to watch over that bastard sister of yours. So, no, you don’t get to lecture me about Leon.”
Fire rushing up to his head, Bast stomped closer to the cell. He raised one finger at Corvus, his jaw clenched. “Don’t you dare disrespect Stella again.”
“I’ll call that bastard whatever I want,” he snapped with disgust, his tone a block of ice. “She took you from us.”
“No. You drove me away!” Spinning in a circle, Bast ran a hand over his hair. “You all did when you didn’t accept her! I had to become to Stella what Leon was to us. No one else would! She had no one, Corvus, all thanks to you!”
His brother’s jaw hung slightly open.
Look at that; no comebacks. What a fucking miracle.
Bast’s chest heaved up and down, his pent-up anger wearing him down as if he’d spent hours running.
They stared at each other for a long while, until Corvus cleared his throat and looked away. “I love Leon more than you’ll ever know.”
A truth for once.
“If you love him, why did you try to kill him?”
Crossing his arms, Corvus leaned the back of his head against the wall, his focus on the ceiling.
Guess talking time was over.
Exhaling loudly, Bast dropped back on his chair. “You’ll never get the crown, you know.”
“Too early to say that, little Yattusei.” He winked at him before turning his attention back to the ceiling.
“You’re behind bars, baku. You murdered Father, Theo, and you tried to kill Leon. You’ll be in jail for a long time.”
“I’m willing to do what’s necessary for the greater good. If that puts me in jail, so be it.”
“Was killing Theodore for the greater good?”
Corvus hunched forward, his hands intertwined. “I suppose you’ll take me to the continent soon. I’m sorry you’ll miss Leon’s coronation.”
The malachai wouldn’t admit to his crimes, no matter how hard Bast pushed.
“I won’t miss our brother’s ascendance to the throne. We’ll head to the continent afterwards, and rest assured, brother, you’ll spend the rest of your days behind iron bars.”
Guilt washed over Bast, because some of Corvus’ words had been true. Bast had hurt Leon when he left. The rest of his family, too. Perhaps he’d even hurt the asshole sitting before him.
“You’re right,” Bast admitted quietly. “I wasn’t there for Big Brother, but I’ll make up for it now that I’m back.”
“Will you?”
Maybe Bast was imagining things but he found fear behind Corvus’ yellow irises.
Odd… The prick feared nothing and no one.
“You’ll be there for the coronation,” Corvus repeated to himself, as if digesting what he’d said.
“Oh yes.” Bast studied his own nails, feigning nonchalance. “Maybe I’ll take Karthana as my date.”
Wincing, Corvus waived a hand in the air. “Stop with this nonsense. Karthana might still have feelings for you, but you belong to the detective. This game of yours doesn’t affect me anymore.”
A chill ran down Bast’s spine. “How do you know? About Mera and I?”
“It’s quite obvious, isn’t it? Even if she hasn’t noticed it yet, even if a part of her is in denial, there’s no running away.” He tapped his chin with his index finger. “Actually, there is. She could always refuse you, couldn’t she?” At that he smiled.
Sarking Suket…
“Your point?” Bast pushed, feigning a mask of nonchalance when he’d rather punch Corvus in his arrogant fucking face.
“I wish Karthy was to me what the detective is to you,” he blurted. “I wanted it to be true so badly. So did she. In the beginning, we thought it was, but… we must face the facts. We’re good, loyal friends, but we’re not at the opposite ends of a golden string.”
Did he want Bast to feel pity?
Tough-fucking luck.
“And still, you would marry her.”
“Of course.” Corvus tapped his foot nervously on the floor, which was a first. The malachai never let his emotions, or his state of mind, show. “Isn’t marriage about being with your best friend? Building a life together? Karthana and I could do that perfectly well, but would it be fair to her? To us both?”
“You say that as if I care, Corvus.”
Yet he did. Bast was glad Karthana would be free of this asshole. She deserved better than what his brother could give.
“Didn’t expect you to care, Sebastian.” Corvus’ mouth contorted into a bitter line. “You never do.”
Silence hung heavy between them for a long while. It weighed more with each passing second, but Bast didn’t know how to break it, how to reach out to Corvus, even if an insane part of him wanted to do it.
What in all of Danu’s hells?
“I saw the mad queen in a dream,” Corvus stated quietly. “It was night time, and she was standing on a mountain’s peak while thunder rumbled from above. The wind howled so loudly… Her white hair and black dress swooshed with fury, Bast.” He lost himself in thought for a moment. “The lightning flashing in the distance highlighted five shadows standing before her, one for each of us. I think it began to rain… ” He rubbed his face. “She turned to me and gave me the cruelest, red-lipped grin before she removed her crown… then set it on one of our heads.”
Diversion tactics, nothing more.
“That doesn’t mean anything. It was just a dream.” Closing his arms, Bast leaned back in his chair, spreading his legs. “You want me to miss on Leon’s most important moment. You always wanted to be Big Brother’s favorite, and it killed you that I had the spot, even after I left.” The glare Corvus shot him proved his point. “Funny. If you hadn’t murdered Father, there wouldn’t be a coronation, and I wouldn’t have returned home. So I guess this is on you.”
Variables ran behind Corvus’ eyes, until he quickly glanced at the floor. “You should check on your partner.”
Bast snorted. “Mera can take care of herself.”
“Like she did when Ben gave her enchanted wine? Our brother is frail, and the nightblood is strong.”
“Ben wouldn’t hurt her,” Bast assured both Corvus and himself. “He’s not you, and now that you can’t influence him, he’ll be fine.”
“Oh, please.” Corvus blew air through his lips. “Are you that naïve, Detective Dhay? Ben does what he wants. Besides, he hasn’t been keeping the best of companies lately, has he? I’m not the only bad influence in his life, brother dearest.”
Charles Fucking Grey.
Their stares locked, their frivolous game of chicken nearing its end. Bast fully knew that Corvus was planting worms in his head, but the damage was done.
He couldn’t leave it to chance, couldn’t risk Mera being hurt in an unfair fight
. If things went south, it would be a fae and a vamp against her.
Not that she couldn’t defend herself, but if she revealed her akritana powers in front of Charles or Benedict…
Fuchst ach!
Bast jumped to his feet and raised one finger at him. “Stay put, suket.”
He shouldn’t worry about an escape. With the iron bars and cell coating, his brother couldn’t go anywhere.
Still, Corvus let out a wolfish grin.
Chapter 23
Charles Grey laid the tea set on the coffee table in his living room. “If you’re here to see Ben, Detective Maurea, he’s not receiving anyone. He needs space, you see.”
Paintings of wild roses graced the spotless porcelain, a stark contrast to the rest of the vamp’s messy apartment. Papers lay scattered on the floor, and dirty dishes piled up on the kitchen’s sink.
Charles had set a cardboard panel over the hole on the door—the hole Bast had pierced with his magic. The window shutters were pulled down, drenching the space in an unsettling penumbra.
The vamp sat on the couch opposite to Mera. The seats reeked of something muggy and old, like the rest of the place.
“Twins,” he went on, “even two as different as Theo and Ben, share a special bond.”
“I understand.” She nodded to the cups before them. “Polite of you, to offer me tea when you can’t drink any.”
“Oh, but I can.” Grabbing his cup, he took a sip. “It simply doesn’t sustain me. Rest assured, I can appreciate a good cup of tea, or a glass of wine.” He winked at her.
Dickwart.
Mera looked around the apartment. The cups might seem clean, but given the lack of sanitation everywhere else, she decided best not to drink. Also, she didn’t exactly trust Charles Grey, either because of his addiction or simply a gut-feeling.
“I’m not here to speak to Benedict,” she explained. “I’m here to see you.”
“Little old me?” Genuine surprise mixed with gratefulness behind his emerald eyes. With a grin, he spread his palm on his chest. “How can this disaster of a diplomat be of service to you?”
