Chapter 35
Sable
Lynx won’t stop scowling.
“It’s meant to make that sound,” I assure him. I’m lying, of course. My car needs about two thousand dollars for a full engine rebuild, and, unfortunately, I may not be dead anymore, but I’m still broke until the manor sells.
Lynx isn’t really helping much in the finance department because he keeps getting fired from his handyman gig—surprise, surprise, the ex-demon has no people skills. At least he’s somewhat handy though.
Him and YouTube how-to guides go hand in hand.
So for now, his job is to fix up the manor to sell it—in between scouring the property for more body parts.
The car shudders again when we come to a stop at the lights. Tee pokes his head out the window, tongue hanging to take in the view.
The lights change, and the car takes its sweet time deciding whether it wants to stop shaking and clattering before agreeing that, yes, we can accelerate down the street.
My clammy hands leave moisture marks on the steering wheel as we drive around to locate a parking spot. My foot would be bouncing if I wasn’t worried the car might die from the additional trauma.
I glance at the black book on Lynx’s lap to check for the twentieth time that it’s still there.
Sensing my agitation, he gives my knee a squeeze but says nothing.
My parents’ appeal hearing is coming up soon, and I’m going to make damn sure they spend the rest of their lives rotting in prison—for Ella’s sake and for mine.
I pull into a spot, kill the engine, and suck in a shaky breath. Lynx offers me the ledger with evidence of my parents’ dealings, and I step out, frowning at him when he does the same.
“You don’t have to go in—”
He gives me the universal Are you kidding me? look. “Shut up and lock the car, Sable. Like fuck are you going in there alone.”
My shoulders slump. “Thank you.” I didn’t want to do this alone.
I step onto the pavement and check the car’s back seat, where Tee is now completely zonked out, splayed on his back with his tongue hanging out.
“Stay.”
At Lynx’s tone, Tee opens one eye and gives the ex-demon an impatient look.
The car’s back windows are all the way down, and I have no doubt Tee will bite off any hand that tries to reach inside. As hard as Lynx tries to let him run away and be free, the mutt refuses to leave us.
At least that’s what usually happens. This time, the moment we start walking away, he jumps out of the car and trots on over to us—pissing on something every five feet.
Lynx huffs, grabs the keys from me, and rolls up the windows before tugging me to his side, throwing a protective arm around my shoulder and glaring at everyone we walk past. A girl could get used to this.
He’s almost as tense as I am, but in his defense, buses operating without a track is as unnatural to him as electricity just happening at the flick of a switch. He understands it in theory but not in practice.
And construction sites? His entire body goes rock solid at the shrill sound of the circular saw. He never says as much, but I suspect it reminds him of the screams in Hell.
I squeeze his side and subtly bump my hip against his as Tee trots on ahead with a—where the fuck did he get a whole rotisserie chicken? I spin round, searching for anyone who might be looking for a thief.
Jesus Christ.
Looks like Tee doesn’t need dinner, then.
Lynx shakes his head, slightly relaxed by the dog’s distraction, but it doesn’t stop him from eyeing every store we pass.
I pull him into one of the cafés and instantly spot the woman we came here to meet.
Her eyes snap up to mine at the same moment, and she stands, motioning toward the empty seats in front of her.
She’s right in the corner, wearing a classic sharp pantsuit that makes her look like she’s walked right out of an FBI movie.
And what a coincidence.
“Special Agent Mackney,” I say, taking her offered hand.
“Please, Mackney is formal enough.”
“This is Lynx.”
True to Lynx’s hellish demeanor, he simply stares at her then begrudgingly shakes her hand. If Mackney is bothered, she doesn’t let on.
Even though I’d rather stand and get this over and done with, I set the book on the table, take my seat, and wipe my sweaty hands over the shorts I had to fight Lynx not to rip off me before we left.
“I admit, I was shocked when you called.”
I nod. I guess most daughters don’t supply the lead agent investigating their parents’ criminal behavior with more evidence.
“Is that it?” She eyes the book.
“Yeah.” I hesitate, hand hovering over the leather cover before passing it over. “I found it while I was cleaning up the manor. I believe this was the type of evidence you were looking for? I don’t understand most of it…”
The moment she flips the book open, and her eyes widen at the pages, the weight on my chest vanishes. I was worried I was holding out hope and placing so much expectation on a meaningless item. But at her awe, the sweet taste of vindication is within reach.
“This is incredible. There are so many more names and companies—transactions we’ve never heard of.
Depending on what evidence we find, it’s possible we could get them charged and sentenced again,” she rattles on, leafing through the ledger.
“We’ll need a forensic writing expert to look at the handwriting, and we’ll need to dust for fingerprints—also, an affidavit from you confirming where you found the evidence. ”
“Of course,” I quickly say, trying to fight the smile growing on my face. Lynx knocks his knee against mine and winks when I look at him, and I’m pretty sure I could fly. “So… they’re not getting out?”
“If I get my way, they’ll be in there for a long, long time.”
There’s so much conviction in Mackney’s tone that it erases every doubt in my mind.
My parents aren’t going to take the manor. They’re not going to visit my sister’s supposed grave. They’re not getting out of their orange jumpsuits or waltzing back into high society. They’re paying for their crimes in this life, and the Devil can have Its fun with them in the next.
The agent puts the book in her bag, and the mood shifts. “I was sorry to hear about your sister.”
My throat tightens. “Oh. Yeah. Thanks.”
I made an effort to contact Megan, Ella’s friend, when we finally made it back to my apartment.
I used the excuse of needing a mental health break and told her about my intentions for the ledger.
While she wasn’t overly enthusiastic about my plans, and wasn’t sure if Ella would be either, she supported my decision.
I think, in that moment, I decided that even if Ella wouldn’t have been happy about this, I’d still reach out to Mackney. My life can’t be controlled by a ghost—or anyone else for that matter.
When I don’t say anything further, she rises and offers me her hand once more. “Well, thank you for contacting me. If you find anything else, you know how to get in touch.”
“I do.”
Just as she’s about to leave, she adds, “Their matcha and white chocolate muffins are heavenly, if you’re looking for a bite.”
My lips pull into a smile. It’s finally over. “I’ll think about it.”
“Take care of yourself,” is her departing message.
She’s talking on her phone before she even makes it out of the door.
Lynx rounds on me, confusion drawn all over his face.
“What the fuck is matcha?”