Chapter 41
CHAPTER
FORTY-ONE
Beck
“The cruise would have been so much cheaper.”
The clunky all-in-one computer looked like a museum relic perched on Maslow’s onyx slab of a desk.
I closed the browser tab with my latest bank statement and swiveled away to scan the room.
Everything in my new office was on the list to be replaced, along with other trappings of the wraith’s regime.
The dressing room needed a brush-up, the boys’ bedrooms and shared bathroom were slated for major renovations, and the former “Private Area” downstairs was being turned into a game room. Or a movie theater. Or some combination. I was still waiting for the results of the final vote.
But some changes were already well underway, according to Zephyr.
Every night back at our suite, he bragged that morale had never been higher.
I didn’t doubt it. I heard the whoops and Tarzan yells echoing up from the stage each afternoon as the boys “practiced.” Mostly swinging from the hanging apparatus and breaking into chaotic group dances. It looked like monkey business to me.
But when it came to showtime, they delivered. Crowds poured in night after night, and Colette was run ragged as our sole bouncer. I’d already added “hire more security” to my ever-growing to-do list.
Darby was a revelation. He managed my newly acquired circus of demons with grace and a smile. They listened to him like unruly kids to their mother, and things got done. It didn’t erase all my stress, but I was starting to settle in.
And I definitely wasn’t bored.
With Colette so tied up manning the door each evening, she hadn’t made much headway on recovering Zephyr’s lost past. That was still a gift I wanted to give him, so I picked up the search myself.
After almost a week juggling club management with trips to the library and phone calls to a few of the contacts I’d made over the years, I had answers.
It might have been prudent to wait until Zephyr and I were home at the Grecian tomorrow morning, but seeing that my Beauty had been due this information since his return to Earth, I didn’t want to make him wait another minute.
It wasn’t entirely good news. A young death was hardly a happy ending, but there was a lot of life before that. Family, and love, and a sense of self I would not deny him. So I’d called him for a meeting.
The office door swung open, and Zephyr bounded in like a shot of sunshine. I would never tire of seeing him like this: flushed from rehearsal, hair tied back, eyes bright. Without a word or pause, he rounded the desk and dropped into my lap, where he settled with a sigh.
“You asked to see me, boss?”
That was his newest thing. Though rumors had already circulated about his preferred pet name—“Daddy”—I’d somehow landed myself the additional titles of “Becky” and “Club Daddy,” both of which I responded to with alarming ease. Strange new world I was living in.
“I did, in fact,” I said, sliding my arms around him as I reached for the nearest desk drawer. “I have something to show you.”
The drawer creaked open, revealing a single page resting atop a plastic organizer tray. It was the size of a printer sheet but heavier, glossier—archival print stock. I pinched the corner and pulled it free, then laid it flat on the desktop.
Zephyr wriggled across my thighs, turning so his back was pressed to my chest. He leaned forward to get a better look.
“What’s this?” he asked.
I let him take it in.
It was a reprint of an old circus poster, dated somewhere around 1900. Ornate, loud, and full of flair, it advertised a traveling acrobat troupe: The Magnificent Montclairs. They were a family act, consisting of a father, mother, and their three sons: émile, Beno?t, and Julien.
I peered over Zephyr’s shoulder at the faces I’d studied for the better part of half an hour before I’d worked up the nerve to call him in.
Beneath the grand lettering—“Direct from Paris! The Greatest Show Ever Suspended in Mid-Air!”—were five oval-framed portraits. The father and two older boys had dark hair and strong, chiseled features, but the youngest, Julien, had flaming red locks and the same delicate nose and jaw as his mother.
Even then, he was beautiful.
The quiet that followed my reveal was thick and heavy. Zephyr must have recognized himself, but his focus lingered on the others. His slim fingers drifted across the page, tracing the images with reverent care. A soft smile touched his lips.
“Tous ensemble,” he murmured.
I didn’t understand, and I wasn’t sure what to say in response, so I stared along with him, studying the silhouettes of costumed figures mid-flight, clinging to trapeze bars and suspended from strips of silk.
After a long moment, Zephyr spoke again.
“I fell,” he said quietly. “I think that’s how I died.”
My arms tightened around him. “Yeah, baby. I think so.”
I knew so.
I’d found the article—an old newspaper clipping dated a few years after the poster. Julien Montclair had fallen during practice. He’d gotten tangled in the rigging, alone in the tent, and by the time anyone found him, it was too late. He strangled to death at just twenty-four.
It was a truth I’d been fretting over how to deliver, so I was relieved he realized it for himself.
When Zephyr told me he didn’t know why he deserved this strange afterlife, I’d lacked the words to explain.
The notion that eternity was the reward or punishment for earthly actions was a decidedly human notion. In reality, Heaven and Hell swapped souls like sports teams traded players. It was a game. A gamble of unfathomable odds, and it had nothing to do with right, wrong, or reason.
Zephyr didn’t move. He kept his eyes on the poster, expression soft but distant, like he was watching something far off unfold. Maybe he was.
He touched Julien’s face on the page, then the woman beside him. “She was my mother.”
I nodded slowly. “Her name was Delphine.”
He leaned into my chest, and I rested my chin on the crown of his head.
“I wonder if they missed me,” he whispered.
“Of course they did,” I replied. “And I think they loved you so much it stuck to your soul.”
He gave a tearful laugh, then wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “I wish I could remember more. I wish I could see them. Hear them.”
“We’ll find what we can,” I promised. “Other posters, reviews, news articles, anything. We’ll put the pieces together.”
He’d gone quiet again, but this silence wasn’t sad. It felt like the air after a storm. Heavy, yes, but clearer somehow.
Zephyr’s hand rested on the corner of the poster. “I don’t know what to do with it,” he said at last.
“I think we should hang it,” I offered. “It was made to be seen, and I’d like to display it. If that’s all right with you.”
“That sounds nice,” he said, his voice steadying.
I gave his waist a squeeze before lifting him off my lap so we could both stand. From the lower desk drawer, I pulled out the frame I’d bought for this exact purpose. I slid the poster inside with care, smoothing the edges until it sat perfectly.
“I already picked a spot,” I told him.
Zephyr followed as I crossed to the far wall, the one set aglow by the morning sun pouring through the exterior window. Light streaked across the space, leaving it warm and golden. That spotlight belonged to them.
I nodded at the wall. “Would you like to do the honors?”
Zephyr gingerly took the frame from my hands. He found the nail I’d already sunk in the drywall, adjusted the angle twice, then stepped back and squinted.
“How’s that?” he asked.
“Perfect.”
He’d come close enough that I could slide my arms around and hug him against me. When I kissed his temple, he exhaled slowly.
“So… Julien?” I asked.
Zephyr shook his head. His gaze lingered on the image. “He was, and they were. But I’m here and now. Zephyr feels right.”
I smiled against his hair. “Zephyr it is.”
We stayed like that for a breath or two, but it was too much to hope the world could stay quiet forever. Not when I’d just finished marveling at the lack of opportunities for boredom in this busy place.
A knock at the door brought an end to the moment of peace, then Colette barged in, unbidden.
“We have guests,” she announced.
I stepped back, releasing Zephyr as I turned to face her. “It’s the middle of the day,” I replied. “Tell them to come back when we’re open.”
The words left my mouth, and I heard them echo, just like Maslow’s bouncers had said when I turned up so many days ago, arms full of flowers and nerves, asking if I could see Zephyr for a minute.
I arched a brow. “Did they bring gifts or something?”
Colette’s posture shifted, more rigid than usual, and she scanned the office as though trouble might be hiding under the furniture.
“I fear it’s only bad tidings from this lot.”
That got my full attention. “Who is it?”
Colette frowned. “Angels.”
“The Rossettis?” Zephyr looked from her to me.
Of course. I’d warned him about them, and he’d met a few of their brood. We both consulted Colette, who confirmed with a grim nod.
Zephyr glanced at me. “Do you want me to stay?”
I shook my head. “I can handle it. Why don’t you go ask Darby what the hell he bought for twelve hundred dollars from Uniformly Naughty?”
He blinked. “I might already know, actually. It’s a… schoolgirl thing?”
I pinched the bridge of my nose, eyes closed. “Ask him.”
Zephyr gave me one last look—half worry, half amusement—then he and Colette slipped out. The door closed behind them.
Five minutes later, our guests walked in.
They declined to sit, which wasn’t a great sign, and it left the three of us loitering near the desk like strangers at a funeral, exchanging frowns and fleeting glances.
Or maybe that was just Stefano and me.
Big sister Antonella wasn’t having any trouble making eye contact. She’d locked onto me the second she stepped inside, and her stare hadn’t let up since.
“Lucas,” she began, cramming so much disdain into the two syllables of my name. “It’s so very good to see you.”
With their wings out, the angels did nothing if not take up space.
They were already imposing with their matching silver hair and porcelain skin, but the feathered appendages on their backs easily doubled their size.
Not to mention it made the siblings a veritable wall of light and judgment across from me.
I wasn’t sure why I’d invited them in. It would have been worse to turn them away, asking for trouble I didn’t want but had gotten regardless. The whole situation made me uneasy while I considered my reply to Antonella’s greeting.
“I liked it better when you were keeping to your own,” Antonella said, apparently needing no encouragement to get down to business.
“Staying in your lane, as it were. And not stepping on my toes.” She crossed her arms over the jacket of her ivory pantsuit, making the gold embroidered cuffs seem to glimmer.
“What’s your interest in the Fairmont property? ”
“My only interest was getting Maslow out the door,” I said coolly. “So I opened him a window across town.”
Her pale eyes narrowed. “You blocked my bid.”
That made me pause. “That was you?”
She hummed in confirmation. “And you’re going to wish it wasn’t, unless you intend to make it up to me.”
“Come again?” I glanced from her to Stefano, who proved content to hold his silence. Grumbling, I addressed Antonella again. “What exactly do I have to make up?”
“You interfered in the expansion of my empire and in the distribution of my supply,” Antonella said. “The demon energy—we were getting it from the wraith. I don’t suppose you have a method for extracting it?”
“Sorry, no,” I said, not at all minding the sharp edge carved into my smile. “I’m keeping my business inside these walls.”
She scoffed. “Lording over a band of strippers? That’s your move?”
“It’s not a move,” I retorted. “Maslow hired me to get his foot in the door on Fairmont. And you’re hardly in a position to cast aspersions considering you hired him too.”
She bristled and turned aside. “That was different.”
“I fail to see how.”
“It’s different,” she said tightly. “Because you have what you want, and I do not. So how are we going to rectify this situation?”
I shrugged. “We’re not.”
She tilted her head, causing her hoops earrings to sway. “Then you’re determined to stand in my way?”
I met her stare, steady. “I’m right where I’m supposed to be. On my side of the street. In my lane. What are you doing?”
Her red lips curled faintly. “Reaching, Lucas.”
Once, I’d reached too. Got my hand slapped for it. It was the worst pain I’d ever felt, and it certainly didn’t wound me to watch the same thing happen to her.
At her side, Stefano still hadn’t said a damn word.
“What about you?” I asked him, irritation prickling up the back of my neck. “Do you have anything to add, or are you just here to hold down the floor?”
Stefano’s brow furrowed. “Perhaps we can find a solution that works for everyone. Maslow was taking more energy than we needed. Surely your… employees would rather give a bit than have something…” His tongue flicked out in a nervous lick of his lips. “Everything taken.”
I stared at him for a long beat, working my jaw. I knew a threat when I heard one, but it stung a bit worse coming from him.
He didn’t meet my gaze.
Of course he didn’t.
So I faced his sister instead.
“Go back to your casino, Antonella,” I said. “Nurse your withdrawals. You won’t be getting anything else from me or my boys.”
She looked like she might press the issue, but Stefano shifted beside her, and that movement seemed to break whatever hold she had on the moment. With one last look, unreadable and icy, she turned.
Stefano followed.
Their wings skimmed the doorframe as they left, feathers catching the light with a shimmer that didn’t belong in this world—certainly not in my office. Then the door closed behind them, and they were gone.
Silence followed, thick and suffocating. I crossed the room and locked the door out of sheer spite, then leaned back against it and drew a long, labored breath.
Let them come knocking again.
Let them threaten and talk.
But the second they touched what was mine, there would be nothing left to talk about.