28. These Fucking Parkers
These Fucking Parkers
Eamon
"Fuck!" that punch hit me way harder than any she's thrown in training. The crunch is so devastating I can hear that both my nose and her fist are going to be damaged from the impact. Ignoring the pain radiating through my whole head, I reach for Isla's hand, pulling it toward me like I could somehow undo the pain she just caused herself.
"Let go of me," she shrieks, pulling awayfrom me. I'm so confused as to what could possibly be happening right now. The other person sitting at the table she was at barely registers, my whole world focusing on all the hurt, physical and mental, that Isla feels right now.
"What's going on?" I plead with her.
She shoves at my chest again and I let her go.
A man dressed in all black appears at my side, "Hey. You three need to leave. Right now. Or I'm calling the police."
The vaguely familiar-looking guy sitting at the table groans, "Goddamn it, Isla." He throws a few large bills on the table before standing.He finally makes eye contact with me, and by the tone he used with Isla alone, I'm tempted to throttle him.I take a single step forward, ready to strangle him right here in public, but he holds up a hand, bored annoyance plain in his expression. "Save it. You can fuck me up once we're somewhere the Sanctum won't grab her while you're distracted with tearing my limbs off."
What the fuck?
"I'm not going anywhere with either of you," Isla grits, shoving to walk past me. I grip her arm, aiming for gentle, but I'm sure with my panicked state, I'm definitely holding onto her too firmly for comfort.
"Go," he gestures with both hands toward the exit, "Go, go, go. We'll have to discuss this somewhere else."
"You're not coming with us," I scoff at him.
His gaze drifts from me to the furious woman in my grip, then back up at me, his meaning clear with the cruel tilt of his grin. I'm not getting her out of here without his help.
"Fuck you, Al," Isla spits. "Just leave me alone, both of you."
He rolls his eyes, grabbing her other arm to help me drag her out of this place before she can make a further scene, "You have to calm down," he tells her. "Or when they call the authorities and give them your description, who do you think is going to show up?"
"I don't care," she sniffles, "I'd rather deal with them than the two of you."
I hate pulling her like this, dragging her along while she fights against my hold. I'm so fucking confused about what's happening; her mind is spinning too quickly, too chaotically, for me to pin down any one clear thought.
"You," the man tells me, "Do your mind thing and make sure no one is thinking about reporting this."
I bite my lips between my teeth, hating this motherfucker even more every time he opens his mouth. With his mention of my abilities, Isla's fury sharpens to a point, her every thought focusing on the ways she'd like to kill me for keeping that from her.
I glare daggers at him, knowing he's responsible for her finding out the one last secret I haven't found a way to share with Isla.
But... he isn't wrong about needing to mitigate the damage here. The security guards are suspicious, but not enough to do anything about it. Mostly, they're laughing at the fact that she socked me in the fucking face. Fortunately, it's dark enough in here that they can't tell the blood running down my lips and chin isn't quite the color it's supposed to be.
Myrealconcern is the woman behind the bar. She's apparently brought this guy no less than seven drinks since he's been here, and she doesn't like the look of two men dragging off a woman who very clearly does not want to be with them.
In any other situation, she would be right to be worried, but in this one, I need her to leave it alone. So I ease her mind, assuring her that Isla is safe and, quite frankly, is more of a threat to the two of us than we ever could be to her.
Dragging her out into the hotel lobby, she straightens her legs, digging her heels in and trying to scramble out of our hold. She's not panicking, not fighting, just being so goddamn stubborn I almost want to laugh at her petulance.
Al, or whatever the fuck his name is, pulls us toward the stairwell, and her fighting kicks up a notch, quietly screeching at us that she's not fucking going in there while still trying not to make too much of a scene.
At least she has the good sense not to draw any more attention, but a struggle like this is bound to catch some eyes no matter what.
"There's an elevator right there ," I tell the man.
He looks at me disdainfully, like I'm somehow the asshole in this situation. "Do you want to be trapped in a box someone can stop from the outside? Cuz I sure don't."
Islalooks like shecan't decide who she wants to glare at first.
Rather than wait for her to decide, I open the steel door to the stairs and shove her inside, figuring, if nothing else, we can at least talk in there, away from prying eyes.Her yelp of surprise, followed by a flurry of colorful language, almost makes me laugh, but her current fury is notthefunkindat all.
"I'm on the sixth floor," the man says. Alastor, hisname finally registers, the familiarity of it clicking into place . He's the one who managed to not only take down the compound where they took Caspian, but he somehow slipped the Sanctus Sculitis' forces altogether. But if that's who this is... then he's also the one who-
Before I can think better of it, I grip him by his dirty collar, slamming him against the wall. His head ricochets off the concrete behind him, his eyes rollingin his headfrom the impact before they look boredly at me.
"I told you to at least hold off until we're somewhere safe," he slurs at me, the stench of liquor permeating the inside of my nostrils.
"You killed that innocent girl. Tortured her in front of her demon. In front of our friend," my teeth grit, every muscle in my body praying to tear this motherfuckers head off.
He laughs, drunkenly shoving me off him but remaining against the wall, "That's the least of what I've done. But I also kept the Sanctum from getting to Isla since you got here. Something you apparently couldn't be bothered to do since you brought her here even after my warning."
What warning? My eyes dart to where Isla stands, arms folded and watching the violence about to unfold. I already know if I let myself get too distracted by what this prick says, she'll manage to sneak off, and I'll spend the next hour terrified and searching for her again.
Her eyes narrow at me, the mascara smeared beneath them proof ofjusthow unhappy this little reunion has been.I have a million questions to ask her, starting with what the fuck were you thinking ? Followed very shortly by what warning? But Alastor doesn't need to be witness to either of those answers. Those are for me and Isla to hash out without a fucking audience.
"Oh man," Al laughs, catching on without either of us saying anything. "You two were fucking made for each other. A match made in hell, full of secrets and deceptions."
"Shut the fuck up," Isla bites at him, making him laugh harder.
He pushes off the wall,heading up the stairs painfully slowly, each step clearly a struggle with whatever's swimming through his system.Isla looks at me, my anger mirrored back in her haughty expression.
"Isla," I reach for her, and she slaps my hand away.
"You got a little something there," she sneers, pointing at my nose before turning and heading up the stairs just behind her cousin.
The flights of stairs to reach the floor where Alastor is staying are torturous.More than once, I try toreachinto Isla's mind, try tospeak to her.But if she'snowaware of it, it would beonlytoo easy for her to lock me out of her head altogether.Alastor stumbles more than once, recovering quickly enough that most people probably wouldn't notice just how intoxicated he is.
What is with these fucking Parkers? How do they manage to drink so much?
Good god, I can't stand this silence.
"So..." I prod Isla, "You guys are related on your dads side?"
Her glare reaches me for a split second over her shoulder before she continues ignoring me.
I don't get the chance to ask another question and get it ignored; Alastor opens the door and peeks his head into the hallway before swinging it wide enough that Isla and I can sneak out into the dim hall.
He doesn't bother telling us to follow or where we're going from here; hejust continues walking down the hall, whistling some tune that I already know will be stuck in my head later. Through the winding turns, he meanders, casually strolling and looking around each corner before taking it. Alastor moves so smoothly, so cavalier, all the while, it's clear to me that he's observing every dark corner, every possible place someone could be lurking and waiting for him. If he wasn't such a little fuckhead, he'd probably make a decent addition to my team.
After rounding a final corner and walking down a very long hall until we come to the last room, he holds a keycard up against the lock, waiting for it to turn green. As it does, he uses his whole body weight to shove the door open, pouring himself inside and flicking a light on.
Holding the door, I ease Isla inside with a hand on her back. Her anger and fear make her want to run, and I don't blame her. I'd be pissed, too. But she has to know I have a good reason.
I do have a good reason, don't I?
When I think back to the timesthat Ialmost told her, the justification I gave myself for not doing so just sounds ridiculous. In trying to make sure she felt like her head was the one place she was safe from me, I took that freedom from her. I could have taught her how to shut me out. Could have trained her mind to be as formidable a weapon as her body. I just wasn't willing to.Needed to haveaccess to the pieces of her that she was still determined to hide fromnot only me butherself.Butnone ofthose explanationswill be good enough, and I know it.
Alastor follows the narrow entryway, flicking on more lights as he goes until the whole suite lights up. A king-sized bed sits on one end of the room, a large couch and entertainment center on the other, only separated by a little half wall and three small steps. Each exterior wall isfullof windows, and my curiosity gets the best of me, drawing me over to see if he chose this room for the same reason I would have. Sure enough, the view is wide open to the little street below, ending with a perfect eyeline to the building where we spent most of the afternoon celebrating with Isla's friends.
Alastor wanders down the stairs toward the TV room, his lanky limbs swinging freely as he finds his minibar, twisting the top off a miniature bottle of dark liquor and pouring it into a disposable coffee cup.
He holds the monstrosity of a drink out in offering to me. Ignoring my suspicions, I take it. While my instincts tell me not to trust this man, it's hard totellif that's just because he's a hunter or if he's actually a threat to Isla and me right now.
Pouring Isla one of the same, he makes a third for himself, sinking onto the gray couch facing the night sky, leaving him open for eitheroneof us to attack him from the back.If he's so nonchalant, so sure we're not enemies right now,maybeIshouldbe too.
But I can't help but want to wring his scrawny neck for whatever he's said that's made Isla so upset she can barely look at me. It's like we've started from the beginning all over again, her hatred erasing all the nights— and days and mornings— we've spent together since then.
With a pained groan, he speaks, "So. Let's just get it all out there, shall we?"
Isla follows, sinking into a small armchair, tucking her knees underneath her to make herself as small as possible.
"No offense, but whatever grievances Isla and I need to air, they have fuck all to do with you," I tell him.
He waves a dismissive hand at me, "Yeah, yeah, no, that's your own bullshit to deal with later. I'm talking about your grievances with me."
"Do you mean besides the torture of Isla's best friend, or the-"
His voice is quiet, deathlycalm, "I didn't touch her."
"Psychological torture is still fucking torture, Al," Isla bites. "Don't be ridiculous. Can you even imagine how Bel would react if she knew you were within the same fucking block as her? How quickly Cas and Fritz would be here, tearing you to pieces?"
With a heavy breath, he lays his head on the back of the couch, "Well I can't take it back now, can I? And I've been told in no uncertain terms that an apology would not be appreciated. Which I understand and haven't even tried to cross that line. All I can do is make sure no one gets close to any of you again. Which I have , in case I haven't made that clear yet."
"What exactly have you done?" I ask. His insistence that he's been vital in keeping everyone safe has my head spinning. I haven't seen this man around once, nor have I heard anything about him from Isla.
"Oh, you mean, besides warning Isla weeks ago that the Sanctus Sculitis knew she would be here this week for the baby shower?"
If Isla feelsbadfor keeping this from me, sheabsolutelydoesn't show it, practically daring me to say something about it. But our secrets from each other are just that. Ours.
"Sure, yes," my teeth grind. "Besides that."
He holds up his hand, lifting a finger with each thing he adds to the list, "I canceled your hotel reservation last minute from the hotel's end so you wouldn't be in the building the Sanctum was planning on you all staying in. I evenmade sure thatthey knew it wasn't your fault, so they took care of some very nice accommodations.
"I played with the traffic lights today, causing the delay that kept you from arriving when they expected you. I caused a cell tower outage to ensure they couldn't reach any higher-ups and alert them if they did spot you.
" And , if that isn't enough for you, this," he holds up his middle finger in my direction, "is not dirt. As I said, there's so much blood on my hands I'll never be washed clean of it. At least now it's only coming from those set out to do real harm."
Isla finally peeps up, her voice seething, "And he stole the Benedict Arnold or whatever."
"The what?"
Now Alastor turnsall the wayaround, nearly leaning over the couch to look at me, "The Sanctus Sculitis Benedici?"
My lips purse as I shake my head, genuinely having no idea what the fuck he's talking about.
His eyes dart to Isla's, then back to me, then to the ground and back, frantically for a moment, "No. That's impossible. You have to have it. I put it in the-"
I'm getting more confused by the second, "Why the fuck would I have it? I don't even know what it is."
"There's no point in lying to me anymore," Isla bites. "I know you went through my books. They are all over the built-in shelves in the bunker."
Embarrassment warms my cheeks. I didn't go through them. "Honey, do you have any idea how many books you have?"
She ignores the nickname, "How many?"
"I stopped counting at 157." A small smile lifts her cheek atthe mention ofher extensive collection, "I didn't even take the time to put them in any specific order, much less investigate their contents. Half of them seemed so old they seemed like they needed to be shelved immediately so they didn't crush each other."
"So you do or you don't have the Benedici?" Alastor prods, his wide eyes trained on me like he's going to throttle me if I don't answer correctly.
I simply shrug, "Buddy, I don't even know what that is. How would I know if I have it? And how the absolute fuck would you have even gotten to my house in the first place?"
His eye twitches before he turns back to his drink, "I snuck it into one of the boxes full of her books."
"He said he figured that wherever I vanished to was the safest place it could be." Isla adds.
A small dose of comfort soothes the heat in my chest.If this kid couldn't find where Isla went aftersomehowhacking into the Sanctum's spy network, there's no chancein hellthey know where I've been hiding her.I'll get her back on a plane home tomorrow, locked safe and sound 20 feet under the ground.
"Are either one of you going to tell me what exactly is in this Benedici? Or are you waiting for me to run home and find out for myself?" I push for the answer they both keep avoiding.
"It's our— fuck, their — holy text," Alastor explains, "It contains all the knowledge they have on demons, Vankhala, their rituals, including how to use the bloodline to keep the weapons functional."
My eyes narrow with suspicion, "And they only have one copy?"
Isla snickers, "That's exactly what I said."
"It's sacred to them," Alastor looks as frustrated by having to be in the same room as I feel. "So yes, only one copy. Not to be changed, added to or taken from except by the current president of Sanctus Sculitis."
"And why did you steal it?"
He groans loudly, "Oh my god, I'm not going through this again. The important thing is that I did. And you should have it somewhere safe and sound. And if you don't, we have got a big fucking problem."
"The problem here is you," I tell him. "Why didn't you just destroy it? Blow it up, light it on fire, fuck, do something besides pass your problems onto someone else?"
Now he looks at me likeI'man idiot, "You don't think I tried all that? It can't be destroyed. Call it magic, science, their profane rituals, I'm not sure. All I know is that neither fire, acid, nor a fucking axe could do any damage to it. All I got for my efforts were singed eyebrows and a fucking chemical burn on my leg."
If this book is really what he says it is, and it's really the only one, there mightactuallybe a chance that all this will be effectively over. All I have to do is get home, find the fucking book, and take it out into the deepest part of the Bering Strait, where no one will everfindit.
And in a decade or so, their power will diminish to almost nothing, whether or not they even get their hands on Isla.
Hope, raw and radiant, finally grows in my chest. All this time, it's felt like I was fighting an uphill battle. Like Prometheus, doomed to repeat the same actions, the same pain,over and over again. But I finally have some kind of end in sight, some semblance of a future where justice is served for those the Sanctum has harmed.
We just have to wait it out a few more years.
"So you two need to runalongback to wherever you've been. I don't wanna know where you are, forall ofour sakes."Alastor announces before standing, rubbing his hands down his pantsbefore grabbinganother drink and holding it up in a mocking toast, "Hopefully, you have the book.If not, well, we're all fucked."