Chapter 37 Maeve
MAEVE
The city was bleakly beautiful in February, the holiday decorations long gone, spring still too far away to feel in the air.
It was cold and damp, but there was still magic in the bustle of pedestrians and the ever-present honking of horns, the city lights and the steam that rose from subway grates in the road.
Bram pulled up to the valet outside the Bowery Hotel, a modest brick building in Lower Manhattan.
It was obviously a high-end neighborhood, but the kind of subtle high-end that said once upon a time, grit and violence had reigned supreme.
Glossy boutique storefronts stood beside restored brick facades, and scaffolding rose into the night like metal sculptures, as if the neighborhood was mid-transition from its hard scrabble past to the gentrified new money that was in evidence all around.
It was like the Butchers: violence under beauty, truth under lies.
We entered the lobby and I looked around with appreciation, taking in the ornately carved wood paneling, richly patterned carpets, and old-world lighting.
The walls were covered in patterned wallpaper that should have clashed but didn’t, and luxurious red velvet draperies framed the windows.
It was a place frozen in time, a gentlemen’s club or a lounge for the wealthy in the1920s.
“Wow,” I said, slowing down to take it all in as we made our way to the front desk. A fire crackled from a marble hearth so big I could have fit inside it, and leather club chairs sat next to upholstered sofas with flirty fringe. “This is gorgeous.”
We signed in and were handed an old-fashioned key — an actual key, not a key card — attached to a red tassel.
“Enjoy the Presidential Suite,” the desk clerk said with a smile. “Your luggage will be up shortly.”
Poe took my hand and we headed for the elevator.
I looked up at him. “Presidential Suite?”
“Obviously,” Poe said. “Think we’re going to cheap out on our girl for Valentine’s Day?”
It took a second for his words to register. “Oh my god… tomorrow’s Valentine’s Day.”
I hadn’t even thought about it. I’d been too busy planning for the trip into the city, following the online chatter around Ethan Todd’s last-minute addition to Apex and the promised showdown with NYNancy (it wouldn’t happen of course — NYNancy wasn’t a real person — but the people online didn’t know that).
Remy laughed. “Now you’re catching on.”
I didn’t know what was more surprising, that I’d forgotten it was Valentine’s Day or that the Butchers had remembered, but walking into the Presidential Suite at the Bowery, it was clear they’d definitely remembered.
Unlike the moody lobby, the room was almost minimalist, although the burgundy-and-gold color scheme was an echo of the rich tones in the public spaces. Rose petals sprinkled the floor, and a bottle of champagne sat in ice on a table next to a box of gourmet chocolates.
“This is huge!” I looked from the sleek living room through open double doors that led to the bedroom. Even from here I could see the giant bed, its headboard arching almost all the way to the ceiling.
“There are a lot of us,” Poe joked.
My cheeks flushed when I returned his grin. It probably wasn’t very common for a foursome to check into one room, and now that he’d mentioned it, I guess it would be a little tight without a big bed.
Beyond the living room a pair of black-framed glass doors separated the suite from a terrace overlooking the city.
“Can I go out?” I asked.
“You can do whatever you want.”
When I turned to meet Bram’s voice, I saw that he was leaning against the wall, looking sexy enough to stop my heart in ripped jeans, a worn T-shirt, and his leather jacket.
Even with his big black boots, he looked right at home, like someone who’d stepped out of the city’s rough history and into the landscape of its glossy present.
I opened the doors and was hit with a blast of cold air and a cacophony of distant traffic. The terrace was huge, with a large seating area and a brick wall low enough to allow for views across the city.
I walked to the edge and leaned against the brick wall, looking down at the streets below. It was like another world, not just the hotel, but the city, so much bigger and louder than Blackwell Falls.
And honestly, I was still a little surprised to be here. I’d half expected the Butchers to try and convince me to stay in Blackwell Falls. It had only been a little over a month since Romania, and I knew they still worried about me.
But there had never been any question about my staying behind.
We were a team now it seemed, and I liked that they didn’t try to confine me.
It was nice that they worried — I kind of liked that too — but they didn’t expect me to be anyone but who I was, and they’d known that person would want to be in the city for Apex.
Remy draped his jacket over my shoulders from behind, and a few seconds later, I was surrounded by all three of them. They were so beautiful it would be easy to pretend we were here for a romantic overnight.
But I knew better: they were here to kill. I didn’t need them to be anyone but who they were either.
They were Butchers, but they were my Butchers.
“What now?” I asked, looking out over the city.
Tomorrow Ethan Todd was slated to take the debate stage with NYNancy. There had been no mention of her on the Apex schedule, and already people online were calling her a no-show.
It didn’t matter though. Ethan Todd would be there, ready to claim victory, to claim that NYNancy was like every woman when you got right down to it: inferior, incapable of being serious competition for a man.
“Now you get dressed for dinner,” Poe said.
“We’re going out?”
“We need to feed you if we’re going to fuck you.” Bram’s gaze darkened. “And we’re definitely going to fuck you."