Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
YORICK
I wake attached to Atticus, who almost immediately pushes out of bed. But there was that brief moment, that mere second after consciousness came to me that made me realize he was letting me spoon him.
“I spooned you,” I whisper.
“You just rolled into me when I got out of bed,” Atticus stubbornly says.
“You were letting him spoon you,” Johnny says as he pops out of the fucking bathroom and makes me jump.
“Fucking hell, where did you come from?” I ask. “Did you like crawl up out of the drain or something?”
“The door, like a normal person,” he says. “You were just asleep when I entered. Sir, I will speak no more about Yorick spooning you.”
“Out,” Atticus snaps at him.
Johnny smiles, looking pleased. “Happily, sir.”
He drops the clothes he’d been holding before wandering out of the room, and Atticus turns to me. “You bring out the worst in him.”
“Me? Why am I getting blamed for Johnny’s attitude?” I ask. “You’d blame me for global warming if you could.”
“I’m sure you’ve contributed,” he says.
“Why is your personality so evil? There has to be something that could fix you. Ooh, do you think it could be me?” I wonder while I pick up the clothes Johnny dropped and start putting them on.
“Those are mine,” he growls.
“I know, but yours are prettier. I like them better. Casimir ordered me such drab colors,” I complain. “I think he wanted to make me look ugly, which would be impossible, but still…”
“I will not fit in your clothes. Give them to me.”
I sigh and open my arms so he can peel them off my body. He does so before tossing me his blue vest. I catch it and look at him, confused. “Do you need help dressing since Johnny isn’t here? Have you forgotten how to clothe yourself?”
“I was giving you my vest since you wanted color, but I’m taking it back now.”
“No!” I say, hugging it to myself before hurrying over to my clothes. I dress, merrily putting the vest on while he goes without one. “Atti, I don’t know how to put my bow tie on. Help me.”
“Do not give me a nickname.”
My eyebrows scrunch. “You call me Borick and I can’t call you Atti?”
“You know how to tie a bow tie.”
“I really don’t,” I say as I hold it out to him. “I only know how to take them off sexy men such as yourself.”
He wraps it around my neck and ties it into a knot that is choking me just a little.
“So kinky.”
Atticus ignores me while he swiftly ties his own. I undo the knot and decide I’ll find someone else to do it. There’s a knock on the door, right on time, so I whip it open and look out at the four men waiting for us.
“I need someone to tie this for me,” I say.
“I asked Casimir why he didn’t get clip-ons. Not all of us are fancy old men,” Julian says. “Casimir, can you tie it for Yorick?”
Casimir grudgingly reaches out for the bow tie, but before he can grasp the ends, Atticus smacks his hands away and pulls me to face him.
“You’re delaying us with this farce. You can’t tell me you don’t know how to tie a bow tie,” he grumbles while I watch the way his eyes focus on the bow tie and how his fingers deftly flip the cloth around.
It thrills me so much as he pulls it snug before his eyes drift up to catch mine. “Are you happy?”
The smile on my face seems to be answer enough for him.
He just turns and hurries down the steps while I rush after him.
“Puppers, I think I might be in love,” I announce, loud enough Atticus can hear.
“I would never have guessed,” Julian replies.
“We should remain focused,” Atticus says.
“Of course,” I agree before Johnny gives us a detailed description of all of the exterior exits and any other pertinent details. It seems like he spent the better part of the day trying to gather more information that I couldn’t acquire using the internet.
“Johnny, you’re going to stay outside of the building in case something goes wrong,” Atticus says.
“We’re not really killing this guy, right?” Cyrus asks quietly.
The look on Atticus’s face tells me that he’d be willing to kill him so he wouldn’t have to deal with Morpheus, but won’t he just keep going? Would Wick’s death really satisfy Morpheus and keep him from wanting more?
“It’ll be fine,” Atticus says, and I look up at him, realizing that I must have been making an expression that caused him to comfort me.
“Yeah, of course,” I respond, quite sure that this won’t be enough for Morpheus.
The drive to Wick’s mansion is rather uneventful.
Since we can’t all fit in one vehicle, I go with Johnny—who jumps out of the car about a mile from the mansion—and Atticus.
On the way there, I called the others so we could talk over possible scenarios, but we mostly agreed to meet Wick in person before deciding whether he was a sensible man who could be reasoned with or a tyrannical ruler who needed to be dealt with.
We arrive well after the party starts with the plan that if we have to deal with Wick, it’ll be toward the end of it when people won’t notice his absence.
I don’t think Julian or Cyrus like the latter idea as much. I’m not sure I do, either, because I don’t quite understand where it ends. When will Morpheus be satisfied? Atticus knows all of that from having dealt with the man for so many years.
Atticus drives right up to the valet, who rushes over to get his hands on Atticus’s second-most prized possession (the other is still slightly banged up in front of my garage).
“If there is even a smudge on my car, I will behead you,” Atticus threatens.
“He’s joking,” I tell the man who no longer wants to take Atticus’s keys. He actually turns around and flees as Atticus tsks and tosses them to another attendant who isn’t aware why the other man ran.
“Are you proud of yourself?” I ask.
“I would be if he’d wet himself,” he says before the six of us gather and head to the front door together.
There’s a man standing there who seems to be checking everyone by sight, and the moment he goes, “Atticus… the host will be pleased to have you,” it becomes apparent that quite a few people are going to recognize Atticus here.
“I see,” Atticus says as he charges inside without a care in the world while the rest of us follow along like little puppies (all besides Casimir, of course).
Atticus’s aura alone draws the attention of several vampires and weres who are lingering near the entrance. A man seems to think that he should jump on this opportunity as he turns and holds a hand out.
Atticus coldly stares at it before looking away, unimpressed. “This is such a waste of my time.”
“I don’t know, this seems pretty exciting to me.
I’m glad there are weres here so I don’t have to deal with a group who doesn’t like werewolves,” Julian says as he perks up.
They all seem interested in him; they’re probably curious what pack he’s from and would be quite surprised to learn that he doesn’t belong to one.
Unless we’re his pack… Honestly, I’d make a very good wolf.
If I could shift into a wolf, I’d make Atticus give me belly rubs all day long.
“The look on your face makes me very glad I can’t read your mind,” Atticus says.
“Just thinking about what it’d be like to be a wolf and how many belly rubs you’d give me.”
“The same number that I’ve given you now.”
“Would you like some blood?” I ask, noticing glasses of it being distributed.
I reach for two as he says, “I trust nothing; who knows what might linger in this blood.”
Ezio spits the blood back into his glass and then looks around for a place to put it.
“You think I would do something to my guests, do you? Then again, you were raised by Morpheus. One can never be too wary.” The voice behind us sends chills racing down my spine.
I whip around and frown when I see the man.
I’ve seen recent pictures of Wick and had assumed I’d never met him before, but that voice… I don’t think I could ever mistake that voice.
The vampire who appears to be in his early forties smiles warmly at us while I fight to get my thoughts under control.
“So you came in Morpheus’s place, did you?
I’m surprised he sent anyone of worth. He usually sends little strays he couldn’t give two shits about and claims he sent a representative. ”
Wick is a tall man with sandy-blond hair. When I’d met him before, his face had been covered in facial hair and he’d worn dark clothes to hide his appearance and make it harder for anyone to see him during the night.
“Excuse me,” I whisper as I push through the crowd and look for a room to disappear into. It’s the only time I’ve wished we vampires could use the bathroom so I could use it for an excuse to leave without drawing attention.
Instead, I just wander through the first door I see, only to feel a cold presence behind me.
I swiftly turn, but it’s too late, and arms wrap around me before I’m dragged back into an empty room.
“Shh, it’s just me,” Morpheus says, voice gentle against my ear as he hugs me from behind.
It makes my body feel chilled, and I want to rub away his touch. Anxiety eats at me when I realize that I’d left Atticus only to get caught up in this hell. No matter how many times this happens, I’ll probably never get used to it.
“Let go of me,” I growl.
“I did this for you. It’s a present just for you,” he says as he kisses my cheek.
“Wick was there when your parents died. He watched your mother scream and beg. But he didn’t offer her a quick death.
He made it hurt, didn’t he? He tortured her to get information out of your father and would have tortured you as well if he knew where to find you. You heard it all, didn’t you?”
I can hear my father begging. My mother’s screams of despair and pain. I can see her through the crack in that cupboard. I can see him.
“Kill him. Torture him for what he did to them,” Morpheus murmurs in my ear.