“The hell it doesn’t. If you can’t stop it, fine—we turn this trolley around, get to a fucking mall, and let me go shopping so I’m at least dressed well. But I’m not really one to lie back and take it like destiny’s bitch and I have a feeling that you don’t get to be a member of a shadow government by doing that either. You flip off fate and do your thing. C’mon, Adrian. You know you want to.”
“The fact remains that no matter how many strings we attempt to pull, we are divided on this issue. One side cannot persuade the other, no matter how it has been attempted. Had Persephone Spencer joined, she could’ve tipped the scales, but she declined. Until another member joins us, so it will go.”
Hmm. “Uh, I’ll join.”
He glanced sharply at me again. So did Nate, for that matter.
“Seriously. I’d be awesome. I can wear suits and overcoats in the summer. And...okay, I can’t be stuffy and boring, but I’d make a concerted effort. Do you get to decide who—”
I blinked and I was at the back of the streetcar, head tipping out the open door as pavement sped behind me—gun gone, body frozen, hair whipping wildly behind me, Lachlan’s hand—bare, glove gone—locked on my throat. His hard dark eyes bored into me, a flicker of flame in the pupils making a sound like a shriek. Behind him, Nate still sat in his seat, looking as he had been where we’d been sitting—hell, I was sitting there too, tapping my fingers on the butt of my gun.
What the fuck?
My heart rate kicked up, hard, beating wildly, and panic surged in my veins.
“Let me make this abundantly clear to you, Ana Fidatov.” He pronounced my old name slowly, carefully, the Romanian accent clipping the words. “You will not contact us again. You will not engage with us again. You will do what you must on your own, pick a sister’s side, and we will not intervene in anything we don’t see fit to.”
Shit. I hated this—hated the situation out of my control, hated to be at another’s mercy. Especially a man’s. And I had no snappy comeback because he scared the ever loving shit out of me. “We can come to a—”
“You are not merely risking your life and your soul here tonight. Your lover sits behind us in a rather fragile state. What remains of his sanity can be swiftly undone.”
Oh no. You do not threaten my fucking boyfriend. I parted my lips to bark back—
“You are a stupid, childish girl attempting to fuck with forces you do not understand and death is not the worst option we can offer you.” His eyes blazed and my vision tunneled on them, flames still flickering, screaming faces shifting in the blackness. His bare hand squeezed at my throat, pain rushing into my skin from his fingertips.
Tied down. Can’t move. Razors cutting, flaying. Violating. Jagged glass drowning my screams.
It hurts. God, IT HURTS.
More irrational terror clawed up—I wanted to run. I wanted to cry. I wanted to curl into a ball and scream until everything went away. I blinked, coming back to myself, gaze still locked on his.
“Is any of this at all unclear?”
I licked my lips but they dried and cracked in the rushing wind, trolley screaming along the road at a hundred miles an hour. “Clear,” I whispered.
He jerked me back and I blinked, once more in my seat across from Nate. Adrian Lachlan was gone.
Son of a bitch. That was not fun. Not at all. What the fuck was this shit? Phantom trolley on a highway? Weird guy who could move me, threaten me, with my body still being there, jerking me in two places at once? His bare hand touched me, sent me...sent me somewhere, some dark, horrible place where I couldn’t move, couldn’t stop what cut me. I still saw the flames in his eyes, the screaming in their depths, and shivered.
Focus, damn you. I shook my head and looked more closely at Nate.
“Nate?” He didn’t respond so I slid forward in my seat, swallowing a dry lump of fear in my throat, until my knees touched his. “Snap out of it, lover boy.”
What remains of his sanity can be swiftly undone
He blinked, shook his head, glanced at me. “I...” A look around. “I can’t...I had Chance, on my bike, and I didn’t want him to know, and I...”
Oh no. I discarded the gun on the seat behind me and wrapped my hands around his. “Nate?”
He met my eyes firmly at last, confusion fading away until I saw lucidity in their depths again. “Sorry. I...”
“Lost again, it’s okay.” I squeezed his hand. “We could have wild sex here until the train stops. See if that jogs your memory.”
The trolley came to a halt and dinged, doors opening.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Complications
We stepped out onto the highway and the fuck if I knew where Peri’s car was.
“Okay...you tried to join them?” Nate said as the streetcar drove off.
I wouldn’t look at him. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”
“After everything my brother did for them? Knowing what they’re capable of? What the hell is going through your fucking brain?”
My hands were all but trembling and I realized I’d forgotten Peri’s gun and had nothing to grip, no weapon to give me just a small sense of security. “They know what the hell is going on. I don’t. Again, seemed like a good idea at the time—”
“Jesus, Zara—”
I threw my hands up, my voice going high-pitched with remnant fear and rising frustration. “And it wasn’t, okay? So just leave me alone for one goddamn second!” I snapped my mouth shut, looked away again, my frayed nerves unraveling.
Nate expelled a breath, some of the tension around him disappearing. His arm came down on my shoulder and for a moment I just stood there with him, in the dark. My eyes shut and I leaned into him, another shiver running through me.
Ana Fidatov.
Lachlan knew my name. My real one. And while that wasn’t a surprise, as apparently several people knew it and the Veil certainly would, I didn’t like it. Ana was a dead girl. She didn’t exist anymore. Dead and fucking buried. But when he said her name—my old name—something seemed to dredge her back up, exhume her, spark fear into her, making me small and not-me.
Your lover sits behind us in a rather fragile state. What remains of his sanity can be swiftly undone.
Oh, I would take the Veil down at some point. Somehow.
“I’m sorry,” Nate whispered against the top of my head, his breath a warm spot on my scalp.
“It’s fine.”
“You’re trembling.”
“Am not,” I mumbled against his shirt.
His hands came up to rub my arms, as if I was cold. “So what did I miss when I zoned out?”
Everything. “He’s not going to help us. That’s it.” I made my voice light and carefree and I didn’t think for a goddamn second he believed me, but I didn’t care. We were carless on the side of the highway, the hell if I knew where, and I’d just done more to piss off the shadow government who for some reason was not a fan of yours truly, and—
And Nate tilted my head up to kiss me. I melted a little, tension easing from my spine. Wind rode the night, whipping at my hair and whispering against my skin, but I wrapped my arms around his waist and let everything be okay for a few minutes as his lips moved against mine, soothing every fear, every worry.
Mishka was a fucking idiot for ever giving this up. And the mere thought of her sent a fresh stab of anger through me, enough to give me strength. If she hadn’t fucked him over, I wouldn’t have him. She damaged him, sure, but I wasn’t a good enough person to wish for any other outcome because now he was mine.
His forehead pressed against mine as our lips parted and my eyes remained shut. “You remember when I told you the nausea would pass?”
Huh? Shit, was he crazy again? “What—”
And then I felt it, the stab of a thousand needles, the lurching of my gut and sense of being pulled apart and stuffed back together all wrong. The world swirled, vise wrapped around my head, a pressure driving down on me, crushing my insides
. I ached down deep, right in my marrow, my bones heavy as if made of lead.
And I was slipping before I even opened my eyes, slumping down, tipping until strong fingers latched onto my arms and hauled me up again. Bile rose in my throat, burning, and I swallowed it back even as my stomach churned.
It was dark, blessedly so, as I didn’t think I could handle light. Softness below me—a bed. I curled on my side, closed my eyes to the black room, and waited for the nausea to go away.
“Where did you put your sigil?” I whispered.
“The bedroom at Nicolette’s,” came his quiet reply, right near me in the darkness. His hand came up to fold around my side. “I should’ve put one on the car.”
I smiled. “Vandalizing vehicles. You’re such a troublemaker.”
“Always was.”
The nausea had indeed passed but I snuggled into him because I didn’t want to head out into the awkward room just yet and let them know what went down. I didn’t particularly want to think about what went down. They’d sent a Rakshasa—that was some serious summoning. And I’d seen—and fought—a hell of a lot of demons, magic users, and general badasses, but I didn’t have a fucking clue what Lachlan was. Nate was probably the strongest warlock I’d ever met—save for his brother—and though he frequently surprised me, I didn’t think Nate could do that.
Pick a sister’s side... So Peri and Mish would be opposing one another? Or something? Talk about rock and a hard place, though I’d have to go with the Hell Bitch I knew. Mostly ’cause she was dating my best friend and opposing her would be a shitty thing to do. And at least Peri wasn’t married to my boyfriend.
“What did Lachlan say?” Nate asked.
I yawned. “Later.”
A pause. “Now.”
Fuck. “He’s not helping.”
“He scared you.”
“Nothing scares me except enclosed spaces. Maybe midgets.” And wherever Lachlan threatened to send me. I knew it would be bad to find out what happened when he took off his gloves.
“Is he the reason I forgot where I was again?”
Ah, shit. “Maybe.”
He said nothing, the silence growing thick and expectant—he didn’t need to say anything.
“Yes. He implied it could be made permanent if I kept fucking with them.”
His hand smoothed over my back then up, fingertips dragging up my arm, my neck, to push hair back from my face. “I am not going to break. You can’t treat me like an invalid.”
“You’ve been sane for like twenty-four hours—”
“And even insane, I can take care of myself. You wouldn’t want me babying you.”
I wouldn’t. He was right. And I tried to think of a million reasons as to why it was different without resorting to whining and sounding like a child, but came up with nothing.
I don’t want to lose you.
I squeezed my eyes shut. Christ, I felt like a fucking human and it sucked. “If you go crazy, you’ll be hunted. If I protect you, I’ll be hunted too. Then we’ll be back to where we were before I turned you—why I turned you. Us trying to live when everyone wants us dead. And I have no solution this time—I don’t think we can be, like, werewolves instead or something.”
“I’ll have a few...‘off’ moments, but I’ll be fine.”
As long as we keep the fuck away from the Veil. Funny, I was pretty much okay with that, actually.
“You should probably let your friends know we’re back.”
“They’re not my friends. Also, no. Later.” For now I wanted the dark—needed the dark—where the only world that existed was right there on the bed. And this time he didn’t say “now”, just held me and left me to slumber lightly.
****
Peri wasn’t thrilled about her car.
And by “not thrilled” I mean “threatened to kill me and then I punched her and magic crackled and Nate had to step in with a barrier spell.”
If Peri and Nic ever got gay married, it was going to be one hell of a wedding with me in the bridal party.
Nicolette called someone to find and tow her stupid car in an attempt to smooth things over and of course I paid for it, but Peri still glared. Because that’s what she was good at, I supposed. And when I suggested she join the Veil so we’d have someone on our side, she glared even more, and I decided to put that avenue of conversation on hold.
By the afternoon I was rested, showered, and changed, with no wild lovemaking as there were other people very near who’d already heard enough of us and we were exhausted anyway, especially him with the magic. Still, much longer and we’d probably need our own safe house. Or we could just break down and return to my place and finish christening all the surfaces.
Priorities. I gots ’em.
My phone buzzed in my back pocket as I walked back toward the living room after changing and making the bed, Nate my shadow. I pulled it out and frowned—apparently it decided to work again after the trolley incident, but I didn’t know who it was. Most clients who hired me dealt with Nic and didn’t have my phone number, and this one had PRIVATE NAME attached. Huh.
“What?” I answered and dropped to sit on the couch, quite refreshed while the others had apparently been up working for hours. Nate sat next to me.
“Would you mind putting my husband on the phone?” Mish said on the other line.
My smile fell and blood dropped a few degrees. Motherfucker. “You know, you use that term very loosely for someone who tried to pay me ten million dollars to kill him.” I felt Nate’s gaze dart to me immediately and silent tension settled in the room, plucking at my nerves like a cat with claws preparing a spot to rest. The others in various spots around the living room all seemed to hold their breaths as well.
“I’m going through you because I don’t believe you’ve had time to get him a phone yet, but I don’t take any pleasure in this either. Hand the phone over to Nate and I won’t have to bother you again.”
Bitch had some fucking nerve, all right. I made a face and in my head repeated her uppity tone only higher pitched, like the extremely mature person I was. Then I tapped the button for speakerphone, set my cell in Nate’s hand, and pressed my fingers to my lips while everyone else looked on.
“I want a divorce,” Nate said brusquely.
That’s my guy. I would’ve followed it up with some colourful nouns in place of her name but then my guy was a gentleman and didn’t have the mouth of a common street hussy like me.
“And I’ll give you one,” Mish said just as curtly, volume rising slightly with her irritation. It was like she somehow expected hiring me to kill him wasn’t that big of a deal. And he might not look it now, but I remembered distinctly how betrayed, how damaged she’d left him. For me it was six years ago; him, just a few months, because he was basically in a coma ever since. “But first you’re going to go out tonight and pick up a disposable cell phone. Alone. You’ll text this number so that I have yours and I’ll give you an address to meet me at.”
I clasped my hand over my lips to keep from barking a laugh, but Nate chuckled bitterly so I didn’t have to and shook his head. “I realize you think I’m an idiot. And I fell for it, so you don’t have proof to the contrary—”
“I am not going to do anything. You have my word—”
He snorted a laugh and rolled his eyes, but his fingers tightened on the phone, knuckles going white. He hurt, still, even if he’d never tell her. Fucking whore.
“—and if you don’t meet me at that address to talk, alone—”
“You’ll what? Hire someone else to kill me?”
“No. I’ll ensure you never have another opportunity to see your son.”
And Mishka hung up the phone.
Turning Point
Tree bark bites into my spine. I lean against a large oak that dwarfs me and I curl, knees up to my chin and head bowed. I smell the blood then and remind myself I no longer have to breathe, but it’s a habit I cannot seem to break.
The blood is drying. Sl
owly. Caking my dress so it moves rigidly and scrapes my skin. And now that it dries, bits of things I wish to not think of flake off.
He is dead, back at the house. His blood seeps into the floorboards along with hers. The bedroom stinks of loosened bowels and ruptured flesh and each time I close my eyes, I smell it again, see it again. I dreamed for weeks about doing it—thought of how I’d feel. But it didn’t matter. His terror fed me for a time but it filled no void in me. He didn’t understand—the entire time I terrorized them, he failed to truly grasp that he was wrong. That my visit upon him was a just reward for his attempt at murdering me, for his success at murdering my child.
I wonder if it would’ve been a boy or a girl, and then decide not to think on it because every time my hand passes over my belly or I remember the swell of life once there, I cannot bear it.
I could stay here. Wait for the sun. Dragomir has said it will not kill me but there will be pain. I can’t imagine more pain, though. Can’t imagine worse pain.
Monster, the voices whisper in my head. Demon.
Monster and demon. Ghost of a girl called Ana.
But Ana is dead. I am nothing now. Everyone who knew Ana is dead. I wear her flesh but I am not her.
I do wish I was dead like her, though. I could burn in a fire. I could find those willing to kill my kind. I will have to seek them out—in the depths of the forest, where I sit now, they will not find me.
I ache all over. Ecaterina managed to scratch me before I plucked her arms from her body like wings from a fly, and the cuts sting. My eyes burn. My muscles are sore after spending so many weeks tied to a chair. Now I’m crouched down low and perhaps I might meet the sun because I’m not sure I can rise again.
I expect God Himself to strike me down, but He hasn’t yet. Nor has Satan appeared to claim me for hell. I wandered from the house alone, drenched in blood, head buzzing as the detached numbness wore off, and there was no judgment, no punishment, no sign that anything but me is out here.
Perhaps it should relieve me. It doesn’t.
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