by Becca Blake
I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, smoothing out the creases in a black dress I’d never worn before and hoped never to wear again.
Leader Grayson stepped up to the podium and cleared his throat. “Thank you all for gathering with us here today to pay respects to four of our own who have fallen. We are here to honor and celebrate the lives of Isaac Dennington, Aubrey Willow, Olivia Brighton, and Owen Collins. Their service to the Arbiters of Shadow and the sacrifice they have made must not be forgotten.” He stopped for a short coughing fit before continuing to list off details about their lives and the things they’d accomplished over the years.
Under better circumstances, a list of my dad’s accomplishments might have made me smile. Today, I was just doing my best to tune it out.
Somehow, he had seemed immortal to me. Even after Mom died, I was sure he would always be there for me. His death left an aching hole in my chest, and it made me feel more weak and vulnerable than I cared to admit. It reminded me of my own mortality, of the fact that I nearly died back at that warehouse in Omaha.
If I had, there would have been fewer people gathered for my funeral.
“—words from his daughter, Riley.”
I stood up, smoothing out the stiff material once more, and made my way up to the podium. I laid out the lined paper with the eulogy I wrote and stared down at it.
Someone coughed. The old chairs creaked as people shifted their bodies, and Leader Grayson’s gentle hand on my arm reminded me they were all waiting on me.
I folded the notebook paper back up and crushed it in my fist.
“My dad was a great man. He’ll be missed,” I mumbled into the microphone. I pulled away from Leader Grayson and returned to my seat, avoiding the pitying gazes of everyone who watched me.
The speech I’d written told stories. Some funny, some sad, some cute. But they were all my stories. I didn’t want to share them with all these people.
Orion wrapped an arm around me as the service continued, and I leaned into him for comfort.
The other hunters’ loved ones honored them with eulogies that were far longer than the one I gave. When they finished, the podium was moved out of the way to make space for the funeral pyre. The ritual was meant to bring their departed souls peace and protection in the afterlife. Since there were no bodies, Leader Grayson used a torch to light a symbolic fire.
I couldn’t even take the small comfort that my father’s soul would be safe, since the ritual was useless without the bodies. I didn’t know how the afterlife worked, or if there even was one. But if there was, I hoped it would be peaceful. Dad deserved that much after a hard life hunting demons to keep humanity safe.
As the ritual ended and the flame was extinguished, I buried my emotions behind the same walls I built when using magic. I wouldn’t cry. Not here in front of everyone.
The others returned to the town hall for the memorial banquet. I stayed where I was, staring at the fire pit until all that remained were fading embers. I had no interest in mingling with other mourners, to listen to them tell me how sorry they were for me. I didn’t want the obligation of showing sympathy to others who had also lost loved ones when I was drowning in grief.
“You holding up okay?” Orion asked.
I’d forgotten he was still by my side.
“I don’t want to be here.”
“No,” he agreed. “Neither do I. But it’s expected of us. They’ll want to tell us how much he’ll be missed… as if we didn’t already know.”
As long as I’d known him, Orion had always kept a cool head. Calm and collected, with a firm grip over his emotions that allowed him a dominating command over his magical energy. And over all those years, I couldn’t think of a single time I’d seen him cry.
Until now.
Orion was the only family I had left. I wrapped my arms around him, and together we shared the weight of our grief.
***
The lack of windows in the enclosed, crowded banquet hall made it stifling, and if it was up to me, I would have left as soon as we arrived. I only agreed to attend because Orion talked me into it, mostly because he needed me there.
A long buffet table featured various foods and drinks for the guests, and tables with dark tablecloths and floral centerpieces had been set up for those who wanted to sit and eat. I headed straight back to the buffet and loaded up a plate, then took a seat with Orion.
“Commander Orion?” The soft voice came from Celia Lawrence as she sat next to him. She rested her hand on his arm and offered him a comforting smile. “I’m really sorry. For both of you,” she added, looking at me.
“Did you get my report?” Orion’s change of subject wasn’t the smoothest, but I was grateful for it.
“Yes, I did, Commander. Thank you. I do have some follow-up questions for you, but now doesn’t seem like the time or place. Right now, I just wanted to let you both know that I’m here if you need anyone to talk to.” She squeezed Orion’s hand, then turned her attention back to me. “How’s your new partnership with Jacob going?”
“Oh, it’s great,” I said, hoping the sarcasm didn’t break through my voice. I loved having a partner who couldn’t even be bothered to come with me to my dad’s funeral.
“Excellent! It’s so good to hear that. I’m glad…” She paused for a moment, searching for words. “I’m glad things turned out the way they did.”
“Me, too,” I said. That, at least, was true. We were all aware that things could have gone much worse for me after I interrupted the evaluations.
Celia looked over her shoulder. “I should go. If you’ll excuse me.”
Once she left, I looked over at Orion and raised a brow. “I didn’t realize you and Celia knew each other so well.”
“We grew up in Haygrove together—us and your dad. We haven’t been close in a long time, but I always get the impression she feels guilty when she talks to me.”
“Why would she feel guilty?”
“Everyone expected her seat on the Council to go to me.”
“I had no idea,” I said. “You never mentioned that.”
Orion shrugged. “I’m a little bitter about it. I don’t blame Celia, though. She worked hard for her seat, and it’s not her fault Leader Grayson vetoed my nomination.”
“Why would he do that?”
“When my dad was on the Council, the two of them were constantly fighting. I guess he thought I’d be the same way. I’ll probably put my name in for the next opening, though.”
“And, what, hope he’s not around to veto your nomination again?”
Orion gave me a sideways glance. “You said it. Not me.”
“May I sit?”
I had been so focused on my conversation with Orion that I hadn’t noticed Marcus Thorne approaching our table.
“Of course.” Orion gestured to an empty seat.
“I’ve said it before, but I wanted to express my condolences. I know how close you were with Owen, Commander.”
“I seriously doubt that, Marcus.”
Marcus sipped at his fruit punch but said nothing.
“Councilman Thorne, you didn’t go into much detail before. Have you found out what happened to him?” I asked.
“There isn’t much to tell, I’m sorry to say. He and his team were ambushed while hunting a group of demon-worshiping cultists. From what we could gather, the cultists took the liberty of burning the bodies for us.”
I winced. “I see. “
“It’s such a tragedy to lose one of our best agents.” He turned his attention back to Orion. “You may find that your next assignment brings you some closure, Commander.”
“What, a revenge mission?” Orion asked.
“This may not be an appropriate time to continue this discussion.” Marcus inclined his head in my direction.
“I’ll wait for your in
structions, then,” Orion said.
“Miss Collins, would you be so kind as to get another fruit punch for me? My legs have been getting so tired recently, and I’d like to sit a while longer,” Marcus said.
I forced myself to smile. “Oh, of course, Councilman.”
There was no way in the infernal hells I was going to be sent away like that.
As I scooped punch into a fresh cup, I glanced at the table. Judging by their stony expressions, Marcus’s conversation with Orion had taken a serious turn. With the two of them distracted, I ducked behind a corner long enough to calm myself and allow the familiar glimmer of invisibility to coat me.
The banquet hall was packed enough that no one noticed me as I brushed past them. When I got back to the table, I stood behind my chair.
“Now,” Marcus said, leaning forward, “I didn’t want to discuss this in front of Miss Collins, but were you aware of what Owen was doing before he left? Did he confide in you?”
His voice was barely a whisper, and even with how close I was, I could hardly make it out.
“No. He kept to himself the week he left. I didn’t see much of him, and he never checked in after he was gone. Not with Riley either, as far as I’m aware.”
“I was hoping you’d be able to give more insight into what he was trying to accomplish,” Marcus said.
Orion’s brows knit together in a tight line. “What exactly do you mean by that?”
“I don’t mean to speak ill of the dead, but Owen Collins wasn’t on official Arbiter business.”
“Well, I couldn’t tell you anything more than what you already know.”
“Couldn’t, Commander, or wouldn’t?”
“Couldn’t, Marcus.” Orion tapped his finger on the table. “I don’t have any idea what Owen was doing.”
“I see. Well, please let me know if anything comes to mind,” Marcus said, getting to his feet. “If you’ll excuse me, I have other mourners to check in with. Will you remind Riley of my condolences and apologize that I left before she returned with my drink?”
“Yeah. Sure.”
“She is very talented, isn’t she? Her magic is quite strong. She reminds me a lot of Carolyn.” His gaze drifted away from Orion and landed on my seat. He lifted his head slightly, just enough to make eye contact with me.
A chill traveled through me as he held my gaze. I checked my arm to be sure and found that it still shimmered with the invisibility spell I’d cast. It had to be a coincidence. He couldn’t possibly make eye contact with me while I was invisible.
There was no way he could see me.
Marcus turned back toward Orion. “Keep an eye on her, will you? Tragedy can make controlling emotions difficult even for the best of us, and the poor girl just lost a partner and a father. I’d hate for her to stray.”
“I take care of all my hunters. Riley will be just fine.”
“I’m relieved to hear it. Take care, Commander.”
Chapter Ten
Overhearing Orion’s conversation with Marcus had worn away what little patience I still had for the funeral reception, so when I returned to the table with my invisibility down, I insisted on leaving. Despite my protests, Orion walked me home.
“I have a few things to take care of at the office. Are you sure you’ll be alright here alone?” Orion asked.
“I’ll be fine,” I said. “Besides, Jacob is staying here, remember?”
“Right. Well, I’ll stop by with dinner for the three of us later, then.”
I opened my mouth to tell him I would be fine, and that I didn’t need him to check in on me, but I decided against it. My father had been important to Orion, too, and I couldn’t forget that he was grieving the loss of his friend. He shouldn’t be alone through that, either.
“Okay. I’ll see you later, then.”
Once he left, I walked inside and kicked off my heels by the front door. Before, I’d always enjoyed the quiet of the empty house while my father was away on assignments. Now, even knowing Jacob was in the other room, the silence was devastating.
I walked past the living room, grateful that Jacob didn’t bother to ask how I was doing, and started up the stairs. Talking to my new partner about my feelings was the last thing I needed.
On my way to my room, I paused in front of my father’s closed door. My hand lingered over the doorknob for a moment before I pushed it open. I stood at the threshold, afraid to enter and trespass on my father’s private space. Somehow, it seemed sacred and untouchable, as if even entering the room would insult his memory.
I flicked on the light. His belongings were exactly as he’d left them: clothes scattered across the room, books piled on the nightstand, and half-finished glasses of water on every surface.
I picked up one of his books from the nightstand and sat on the bed, tucking my feet underneath me. The old western novel had always been one of his favorites, one he reread every chance he got. He’d asked me so many times to read it, and I’d always refused.
There was no time like the present, I supposed.
As I opened the well-worn cover, something fluttered out of the hardcover jacket. I slid onto the floor and retrieved the tiny piece of paper from where it had fallen under the bed.
In scrawling script, it read:
Who do you think killed her?
I frowned as I reread the message several times. I didn’t recognize the handwriting, so it wasn’t written by Orion or my dad. Whoever wrote it, my dad found the note important enough to keep in his favorite book.
Why?
The only her that came to mind was my mother, though she’d been gone since I was eight. Then again, the paper was worn at the edges, so it was possible it was that old.
But Mom was killed by a group of demons while she was out on a solo mission. Everyone knew that.
Unless someone had reason to believe that was a lie. And if my mother hadn’t really been killed in the line of duty as we’d been told, it was possible my father hadn’t been, either.
It was a stretch.
Still, there was something intriguing about the note, and I couldn’t bring myself to stop staring at it and imagining the possibilities.
I flipped the paper over. On the back, it was signed only by “Maki.” The name seemed strangely familiar. I was sure I’d heard it before.
The answer struck me like a punch to the gut.
Omaha.
The women at the old warehouse had mentioned someone named Maki. Could he be the note’s author? Casey was dead, but the other woman, Alexis, was still out there somewhere. Maybe she knew something.
There was only one way to find out.
A voice downstairs tore me away from my speculation.
“Riley? It’s me. I’ve got dinner.”
I hadn’t expected Orion to arrive so soon, though a glance at my phone told me it was already almost six o’clock. Had I really been sitting on the floor of my father’s room staring at that note for hours?
“Coming!” I stuffed it in my pocket and hurried down the steps.
By the time I got downstairs, Orion had three takeout containers from the diner spread out on the table.
“I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I got you a burger,” he said to Jacob.
“I’m not picky. Thanks, Commander.”
I sat across from Jacob. The pasta Orion brought me looked delicious, but I let it sit untouched in front of me as the strange note dominated my thoughts.
“Everything alright, Ry?” Orion asked.
“Hm?” My head snapped up as he pulled me out of my thoughts. “Oh, sorry.”
“What’s on your mind?”
I set the note on the table and pushed it over to Orion. “Have you seen this before?”
“Where did you get this?”
“I found it in Dad’s room. I thin
k it might be talking about Mom.”
“Riley, we already know who—or rather, what—killed Carolyn,” Orion said gently.
“Why else would Dad keep something like this, though? Who else could it mean? Someone seems to think Mom wasn’t killed by demons like we were told. And if that’s true, maybe Dad wasn’t, either.”
“Those are a lot of assumptions for one sentence. Where in his room did you find this?” Orion asked. “I’ve never seen it before, and he’s never mentioned it to me.”
“It was in that western novel he loves. He’s been trying to get me to read it forever. I think he left it for me to find.”
Orion set down his fork and leaned forward. “I know you want to make sense out of what happened to Owen. I do, too. But you have to remember that we’re in a dangerous business here, and this is an unfortunate reality for us. He’s not the first person either of us have lost, and he won’t be the last.”
“You don’t believe me?”
“I didn’t say that. It just sounds like you’re jumping to conclusions here without evidence.”
I flipped the note over to show Orion the signature. “It’s signed by someone named Maki. Do you know who that could be?”
“Jay Maki is a liar and an Oathbreaker. If that note is from him, you should toss it right in the trash.”
“So, you know him?”
“I’ve been hunting him a long time. He used to be a damn good hunter, but he lost his way. And if there’s anything he knows, it’s how to manipulate people,” Orion said. “Look, even if this didn’t involve someone as shady as Maki, it’s not a good idea to go digging into something like this without approval.”
“So, give me approval,” I said.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Even if this was all legitimate information that was worth looking into, you wouldn’t be the one assigned to do it. You’re too close to it—it’s too personal. And you’re going to be on mandatory leave for another month, anyway. You can’t go back out in the field this soon after a tragedy.”
