Complete Innocence Boxset

by Stasia Black

  She froze for a moment. What are you doing, Cora? Are you really running away? Are you really going to do that to Marcus on top of everything else you put him through today?

  But when she closed her eyes, all she saw was Iris’s lifeless face. And the blood. She could still feel it sticky on her hands, no matter that Marcus had washed it away. It would never come off. Never. Never.

  Her breathing got erratic the more she thought about it and she shook her head, like that could shake the memories away. The only thing that was clear was that she couldn’t face Marcus again. Not right now. So she scooted down, grabbed the branch, and then dropped onto the wet grass below.

  The darkness grabbed her, and she ran. She didn’t stop to hear if she was being followed or if someone in the house had spotted her. She headed towards the path she’d found earlier.

  She’d been running for a little while, maybe five or ten minutes when suddenly she heard voices and saw some car lights flashing through the trees behind her. Shit! Did they already figure out she was gone?

  Immediately she made for the mausoleum, darting behind a lion statue just before the high beams hit the stone structure above her head.

  Flattening herself to the ground, she listened and tried to control her breathing. A car was coming towards the crypt, creeping over the grass.

  Cora pressed herself into the little ditch that was just large enough for her. A couple of bushes helped obscure her. She could just see the marble platform before the steps up to the sepulcher.

  As she watched, two Shades dressed all in black got out of the front seats. They left the beams of the car on for light so Cora could see them coming forward to the steps of the mausoleum. One of them was carrying some sort of tool kit. He paused as his partner followed, carrying a chair he must’ve gotten from the trunk of the car.

  “Leave it there,” the first one ordered, and the chair was placed in the center on the marble dais, right in Cora’s line of site. He opened the tool kit and drew out a coil of rope, placing it on the chair. The other took the tool kit up the steps beyond where she could see.

  What on earth was going on?

  Cora ducked her head, hoping her hood stayed over her light hair. Her heart pounded against the cold ground as she heard them moving around more. What were Marcus’s men doing out here in the middle of the night? Did Marcus know they were here?

  She didn’t want to know what would happen to her if they found her hiding behind the lion statue.

  Slipping her hand into her pocket, she turned off her cellphone, making sure it wouldn’t give her away. She hoped whatever the Shades were doing, they’d get it over quickly so she could escape unseen while it was still dark. Maeve was probably already waiting.

  More lights flashed and Cora looked up, squinting past the high beams. What now?

  “They’re coming,” one of the Shades called. Cora peered just over her arm as another pair of headlights hit the crypt, high beams casting shadows until someone inside the car cut them off.

  That was when Marcus stepped out of the mausoleum.

  Cora’s breath caught in her chest and she slapped her hand over her mouth to stop her gasp of surprise. What on earth? Sharo was right behind Marcus and just like earlier that night, the two wore long black overcoats. She caught a brief glimpse of her husband’s grim expression before Sharo stood in front of her and blocked most of her line of site.

  “Took them long enough,” Marcus said. He and Sharo stood there facing the lawn, waiting for the oncoming car.

  Marcus drew a cigar out of his pocket and lit it. He said something too low for Cora to hear, because Sharo leaned down. She heard Sharo chuckle and shifted her head so she could see Marcus’s face better. He looked as he always did when he had a situation under control: confident, an almost-smile on his handsome face.

  Suppressing a shiver, Cora wiggled a little bit closer under the bushes. Marcus and Sharo looked for all the world like two buddies hanging out at a tailgate, chatting casually. They barely turned to acknowledge a second car’s arrival, even when its doors opened and slammed, signaling a visitor’s approach.

  A man in a taupe trench coat approached the two men; Cora could see his older face clearly as she looked up now that her eyes had adjusted to the car’s low beams.

  “Mr. Ubeli,” he greeted her husband politely.

  In answer, Marcus nodded to him and took a casual drag on his cigar. Sharo’s hands were still in his pockets.

  The visitor kept a respectful distance. Something in the slope of his head as he nodded to her husband made Cora remember back to the day at the Crown hotel, when the cops were there to guard The Orphan. She recognized the man then; he was the police higher up whom Marcus had acknowledged in the lobby.

  What was he doing here?

  Meanwhile, Marcus’s two men had joined them on the dais. They stood in deceptively casual poses, but the hulk of muscles in their shoulders made Cora think they weren’t just there for show. The Shades were weapons, dark and deadly.

  The man in the taupe coat cleared his throat. “Mr. Sturm sends his regards. He’s grateful for your support.”

  What did the mayor have to do with this middle of the night meeting?

  While the man in the taupe coat spoke, two more men got out of the second car and opened the trunk to get something. Cora couldn’t quite see what.

  “He asks that you accept this gift as a token of his gratitude. But after this, he requests no more contact.”

  Marcus removed his cigar and studied it before responding. “Tell him I respect his request, and thank him for his gift.”

  The messenger nodded curtly from where he stood on the ground before stepping back to allow his two helpers to carry forward their ‘gift’.

  Cora was about to crane her neck to make out what it was when movement on the steps frightened her and she ducked her head. She trembled for a moment, thinking she was caught.

  But then she realized it was only Sharo. He had moved closer to Cora’s hiding place, taking a position behind the chair the two Shades had set up earlier.

  Then her eyes widened. It was a body. Sturm’s men were carrying a body.

  It hung limp and heavy between the two of them. A hood covered its head, although the build and size told Cora it was a man.

  They sat him in the chair, and Sharo knelt to tie his hands to it with the rope.

  When the body was secure, Sharo stepped forward and whipped off the black hood. Oh gods— Cora drew in a breath and pushed a fist to her mouth to keep herself quiet.

  It was AJ.

  His head lolled a little on his thick neck. His hair was matted down and his coat was gone. His shirt was halfway unbuttoned and he looked the worse for wear. Tied to a chair in the middle of the night, the monster looked smaller, somehow.

  “Tell Sturm he has our vote,” Marcus said coolly. "And we won’t be contacting him, as long as certain...property is returned to us.”

  The man in the taupe coat nodded. “It’s being processed. Give it a week. You’ll get your shipment back.”

  Cora’s mind raced. The shipment—returned? And AJ delivered to Marcus’s front door as a gift, like a holiday ham.

  The man in the taupe coat must be Marcus’s man on the inside, a connection to Zeke and the force. Of course, the mayor was higher up than anyone.

  Mind whirling, she barely heard Sturm’s men get in their second car and creep away, leaving only Marcus, his men, and AJ behind. And her, of course.

  For a moment, no one in front of the mausoleum moved or spoke. Above them, the clouds rolled away from the moon and caused shadows to flicker over their faces. It looked like something out of a horror movie, ghouls gathering around the crypt.

  And Marcus? He looked like the Grim Reaper himself. She saw nothing of the man who’d held her so tenderly and washed her hair in the shower earlier that night. A shiver skittered down her spine that had nothing to do with the cold.

  “Alright,” Marcus broke the silence. “The
y’re gone.”

  One of the Shades stepped forward, handing Sharo a water bottle. The big man unscrewed the cap and splashed it into AJ’s face. Marcus’s men waited patiently until he woke, sputtering.

  “Where am I?” AJ groaned. His hands, bound behind him on the chair, flexed uselessly.

  Pulling the cigar out of his mouth, Marcus answered him. “Hello, AJ. Welcome to hell.”

  “What the—” AJ’s voice was cut off as Sharo gagged him. Sharo stepped back, squeezing his fist to crack his knuckles, his eyes on the back of AJ’s head.

  AJ looked around wildly.

  “I want to congratulate you on your good work tonight, AJ,” Marcus said softly. “You helped the mayor look strong on crime. He’ll get elected. My campaign dollars will be well spent.”

  Marcus flicked a little ash onto the ground. “Of course, the outcome isn’t quite what you wanted. Jail, and now being brought here to the house of your enemy. It’s amazing how quickly you can get a man out on bail when you have friends in high places.”

  AJ made a small noise, barely a whimper.

  “Do you recognize the family crypt?” Marcus motioned and Sharo turned the chair to face the intimidating structure.

  “My father used to hold meetings here, remember? You were just a young man then.”

  AJ whimpered again. Cora could see his face clearly, his hair and face dirty and matted with sweat. He looked terrified and Cora blinked, confused. Did she really feel pity for this man?

  Then she remembered Iris’s dead face. He deserved everything Marcus might do to him. Right?

  “I thought I’d bring you here, refresh your memory of old times,” Marcus continued. “And also show you where my family lies. You can pay your respects to Old Ubeli. There’s even a grave there waiting for me and my wife, when our time comes.”

  Cora winced automatically at the mention of her. How could this ice cold, unfeeling Marcus even speak of her while he was here, doing what he was about to do? She had no illusions. AJ wouldn’t walk out of here alive. And even though she should cheer the fact…watching Marcus…watching him when he was like this…

  “Not that it’ll come soon.” Marcus’s voice now held deadly malice. “No thanks to you.”

  He shook the ash of his cigar over AJ’s face and the man squirmed in the chair. Sharo stepped closer to hold it steady.

  Marcus took a pull off the cigar and let the smoke curl out of his mouth, savoring it. Then he smiled at AJ. It was a smile that had another shiver rocking through Cora, all the way down to her bones.

  “I know you’re a man who appreciates cigars.” He held the smoking roll up by AJ’s face. “You want some?” Marcus’s hand dropped carelessly and pressed the burning tip into AJ’s chest until the man writhed and bucked, screaming behind the gag.

  Cora bit down on her fist again to keep from crying out. But she forced herself not to look away. This was the man she’d married. This was the man she…she loved.

  Sharo and the Shades stood watching silently, still as statues. Meanwhile, Marcus had discarded the cigar and paced a little, waiting for the sobbing man to quiet.

  “I wanted you to bring back a message to your masters. The ones who sent you here to see how I rule my city. See, I knew the Titan brothers would need more convincing that their rule here is over. That the bitch who leads them around by their little pencil dicks would need more. And I want them to understand something.”

  Marcus stopped in front of AJ, right in Cora’s line of sight. His face was a cold mask, black eyes boring into the man who’d crossed him. She didn’t recognize him as her husband anymore.

  “I want you to understand something. I own this city. I own the streets. I own the shops, I own the air. You breathe,” Marcus pointed to AJ, “with my permission. And now that your singer is dead—”

  AJ jerked and so did Cora. It was business to Marcus. Just business. But Chris was a person.

  “—it’s time for you to leave New Olympus. Permanently.”

  AJ made muffled sounds behind his gag like he was trying to plead his case, then it quieted. Cora could hear him sobbing. Sharo, who had bent over him, leapt back.

  “Pissed himself,” the big man muttered.

  Marcus’s face twisted in disgust. “Face your death like a man.”

  AJ shook his head wildly, pleading.

  And that was when Marcus lost any and all semblance of calm. His features twisted with rage.

  “You came to my city. Abducted my wife. Disrupted my business. How did you think this would end? You think you can disrespect me?”

  Cora’s heart pounded as she watched her husband snarl at his enemy. She pressed her body into the cold ground.

  Abruptly Marcus whirled and strode to the car. A third Shade stood there, holding a black case. Marcus threw the case open and then pulled something out. Cora frowned at first and then her eyes widened when he made a fist. He’d put on brass knuckles.

  And then before she could even take another breath, he was back on AJ. “You dared,” he landed a heavy blow to AJ’s face, “to touch,” another blow, “my wife.”

  Blood poured down AJ’s face until he was choking on it but Marcus didn’t stop.

  Over and over again, he pounded AJ’s face with a wild madness until the wet, squelching noise of his fist and the brass knuckles on AJ’s head and bones and gristle and brain were all that could be heard.

  Cora turned away and bent over the grass, throwing up.

  Still Marcus didn’t stop.

  No one said a word until finally, heaving for breath, Marcus stepped back.

  “I’ve decided,” Marcus gulped in a breath, standing over the bloody mess that used to be AJ, “how to send a message to the Titans. You’ll be that message.”

  Cora choked her tears down.

  “Prep the body,” Marcus said, his chest still rising and falling heavily. “Get it to Metropolis.”

  “Yes, boss.” The men answered in unison and scurried forward to carry the chair and dead man into the mausoleum.

  “You on clean up?” Marcus asked, and Cora raised her head to see him speaking to Sharo.

  The big man shrugged. “Just the tricky stuff. These guys don’t know how to get off a fingerprint without taking the hand.” His tone was casual, as if he and Marcus were talking about something totally normal, like taking out the garbage. As if they hadn’t all just stood around and watched Marcus bludgeon a man’s head in.

  “If you need help, call the gardener.”

  Sharo nodded. “Yeah, I learned from him. He was the master.”

  Sharo handed Marcus a handkerchief and Cora watched her husband calmly wipe off his hands, sliding the brass knuckles off as he did so. He looked beautiful in the moonlight. Even after what she’d just seen him do. Beautiful and so, so cold.

  His lips had a satisfied smile, as if he relished the duty of judge, jury, and executioner.

  Cora sucked in a breath and saw him, really saw him.

  She saw Death.

  “He’s on standby. He’ll sod over everything in the morning, if you can get it done by dawn,” Marcus was telling Sharo.

  “Will do, boss.” Sharo turned and started going up the steps. He paused to ask one more thing. “The message to the Brothers—you want me to write a note?” His back was to Cora but she could hear a joking tone in his voice.

  Marcus stared at the ground a moment. His profile was cut clean from the car’s headlights. Cora held her breath.

  Then he raised his head and his dark hair fell across his face. “Just send the pieces.”

  Cora waited until the car crept backwards across the lawn. All the men were in the vault; she could hear them joking about their grisly work.

  She rose stiffly and hugged the mausoleum walls. Her body felt frozen so she waited at the back of the building, listening to see if she was found out.

  No one came to find her though. There were no shouts signaling they’d spotted her. She was about to breathe a sigh of relief when
she heard a strange whine start up.

  Someone was using a wet saw.

  She was going to be sick again. She bolted before she could be seen and didn’t slow until she was in the trees, continuing on the path she’d taken earlier that night.

  A car waited alongside the road. She approached and rapped on the glass. Maeve woke suddenly. For a moment her friend stared in surprise, but then she motioned for Cora to get in the back.

  As Cora opened the door, a large doggy head greeted her. Brutus, the giant puppy.

  “He wanted to come,” Maeve said apologetically. “Cora, are you ok? I’ve been waiting...”

  “Yes, sorry. My phone died.” Cora sat in the backseat and buckled herself in. The large puppy settled down, his head hovering near Cora’s.

  Maeve was still looking back at her and Cora couldn’t imagine what she saw on her face. “You sure about this?”

  “Yes,” Cora said. Please don’t ask me anything more. Maeve must have sensed her silent plea, though, because she just pursed her lips and didn’t say anything, although it was clear she wanted to. She turned and put the car into drive, then they crept away.

  In the backseat, Cora bent over the puppy’s head, clutching him tightly. He seemed to know she needed him and held his body still. A few tears spotted the top of his head.

  When she’d left tonight, she’d only meant to clear her head. But what she’d seen… She covered her mouth again and struggled to fight back the bile that threatened to rise up.

  She could never go back.

  “It’s just you and me, Brutus,” she whispered. “You and me, against the world.”

  Continue reading Marcus and Cora’s story in book 3, Queen of the Underworld…

  BOOK 3: QUEEN OF THE UNDERWORLD

  “Both her mind and her appearance quickly were transformed . . .”

  Ovid’s Metamorphoses, Book V

  One