46. Barrett
BARRETT
H urt flashed across Micah’s face as I glanced at him.
I averted my gaze, unable to hold his, unable to take the pain I’d dished out to my best friend—to my fucking mate.
Could I even call him my best friend for how I had treated him the last several years, the unintentional avoidance, the bitterness I’d let slip through as I watched their happiness after too many decades pretending Thalia wasn’t my mate?
The judgment of the surrounding warriors radiated off them like a feverish cloud as I stormed out of The Complex and into the dark.
“Fuck!” I shouted, my voice cutting through the silent night air as I smashed my fist into a nearby brick wall.
Was I so miserable that I had to take out my frustrations on her? On Micah?
The look on her face was seared into my mind, burning me far worse than any flame ever could.
If only I could set the pain in my chest ablaze, burn it until nothing remained of our bond but ashes.
It was the only reason I couldn’t stomach being around them, couldn’t stomach how she smiled at him, how she kissed him .
I almost wished Micah had slugged me, knocked my ass out on the floor for everyone to see.
Wind whipped around me as I stalked down Short Street, and I shoved my hand into my pocket to pull out a pack of rolled Brierleaf, desperate for the hit.
A few cars blurred past me intermittently, kicking up the cool air as I stopped at my Honda CB750 parked along the sidewalk, the racing bike too powerful to be street-legal, but fast enough to give me the rush I always needed.
My mind dredged up all the ways Micah would comfort her, how his hand had come to rest on her shoulder to prevent her from following me.
The flames writhed beneath my skin, a torrent of pent-up anger and possession, like a beast whose treasure had been stolen, only. ..
She had never been mine.
Leaning against my bike, I put the rolled Brierleaf to my lips, sparking the flame to life atop my fingertip and holding it to the end, taking a hit the moment the paper lit.
The smoke filled my lungs, the numbing effect slipping into my bloodstream, though it was too weak to combat the torrential emotions flooding my system.
I needed a drink, plus a face to smash in if that wasn’t enough to dull this overwhelming feeling.
I threw my leg over my bike, kicking the engine to life before taking off down the road.
Stoker’s bar was packed in the late-night hours, music blaring throughout the room as I stepped through the old door. Vincent caught my gaze from where he sat with Anna, dressed in her scrubs and likely fresh off her shift at Dr. Johnson’s clinic.
“Barrett!” he called, holding up a glass.
I beelined for him, the amber liquid like a siren to the hulking, scaled beast burrowing further into my bloodstream, boiling my blood to the point of lava.
Vincent grimaced when he got a better look at me. “Rough night?”
“Try shoving your foot in your mouth to your mate and then tell me how you feel,” I muttered and immediately stiffened as I glanced at Anna. She was lost in a conversation with Eiko, the half-human, half-immortal bar owner, and hadn’t seemed to hear.
“Ouch,” Vincent said, sliding a glass in front of me. “You can have mine; you clearly need it more than I do.”
I downed it without hesitation, relishing in the burn snaking down my throat as I set the glass on the bar top. “Semele!”
“On it, hothead!” she said, immediately getting to work on another drink for me.
I let out a sigh as the name dredged up memories of Lucia. Semele had never forgotten our first meeting, still held a bar fight I had no memory of over my head. She and Lucia had continued to tease me, and the nickname stuck with her as well.
“What happened?” he asked.
“They’re getting too close,” I grumbled, setting my elbows atop the bar.
“Close?” he echoed, cocking an eyebrow.
I dropped my voice. “I’m working a murder case—some immortal has been killing women left and right—and I’m getting pulled back into Underworld work. They keep prying, and it’ll only result in them gaining a target on their back.”
“Good thing I’m bulletproof,” Vincent mused with a smirk before taking a drink.
“I shouldn’t have even told you,” I grumbled. “Just being seen with me could put you in danger if I ever fucked up.”
“Sadly, I’m too stupid, and you’re stuck with me,” he said, lifting his glass briefly in a mock toast. “Just don’t fuck up.”
I rolled my eyes.
Vincent leaned back against the bar, draping his arms over the edge. “Why do you keep talking to them if it hurts this much?”
“Every time I try, I just...can’t.” Perhaps I was a glutton for misery. Perhaps I was punishing myself for all my shortcomings, all my failures.
Semele slid a glass toward me, and I swiped it up before downing the contents. I flashed her two fingers, and she nodded, getting to work on more drinks for me.
“It’s self-destructive,” Vincent said, tilting his head.
“No shit.” I grimaced as I set the empty tumbler.
Glass shattered somewhere in the bar behind us.
“Hey! Knock it off!” Semele shouted, and I followed her gaze to a group of males getting a bit too rough.
“Come put your hands on me and make me!” one of them shouted with a taunting laugh before turning his back to her. “Annoying cunt.”
I rose from my stool.
“Barrett,” Vincent warned.
I stalked through the crowd, some quickly scattering from my path, some stumbling out of my way as I shoved past them.
The fuckers stood in a group, their backs turned to me as they focused on their game of pool, completely unaware of the blistering destruction they had just riled up.
I laid a hand on the shoulder of the largest male, the flames within me swelling with a savage desire to taste blood.
The male turned toward me. “Fuck of?—"
My fingers dug into his shoulder, and I slammed my forehead into his face, busting his nose and sending him crashing to the ground. Blood dotted my skin as the bar fell silent, voices falling away like a receding tide.
The others launched themselves at me.
Laughter echoed through the hazy meadow, and the faint ripple of rushing creek water reached my ears. I lifted my eyes from the poorly constructed floral crown in my hands, the flowers falling out, leaving only scraggly vines and grass.
Calliope sang the rhymes our nursemaid recited to us about a foolish god who had fallen in love with a mortal only to be separated by the veil, lest they destroy both realms to be together.
The girl with cornsilk hair dancing with her didn’t join in on her sing-song, but the hoarse laughter she managed to get past her sore throat was like fractured sunshine.
Barrett.
I lifted my eyes to her, but she wasn’t looking at me. “What, Cali?”
Barrett.
I frowned as her voice filled my ears, but her mouth didn’t move as they continued to dance in the meadow along the creek. The laughter—Cali’s singing— fell silent, a rush of wind cutting through it all like a creature devouring our joy as the sky darkened.
Barrett!
My heart sank, and I dropped the crown as I jumped to my feet. I rushed for them, grabbing Calliope’s hand, but before I could reach the girl, blackened clouds swept in around us, tree branches bending in the wind as the sun was swallowed whole by the torrential storm.
“Barrett!”
My eyes shot open, pain echoing in the back of my eyes, an even sharper pain throbbing in the back of my skull. Damien stood over me, arms crossed, brow arched. Vincent knelt on my other side, looking down at me with a relieved grin.
“Fuck,” I groaned.
“Almost got them all before one pulled a bat on you,” Vincent said.
“Where the fuck is he?” I growled, pushing myself up.
“Already taken care of,” Damien said. “All of them have been.”
I took in the sight of Vincent’s black eye, and guilt dragged my heart into my stomach. “Couldn’t let them get you while you were down.”
“I swear, the both of you are going to be the death of me,” Anna said, dragging my attention to where she was crouched behind me.
She leaned in with a small flashlight and checked my eyes. “Good thing you’ve got a hard head, or that bat might have done you in.”
“It’s my finest quality.” I grimaced, flinching away from the bright light.
“Is he all right?” Semele called, her boots smacking against the pavement as she jogged over to me from the entrance of the bar.
“I think he’ll live to torment us another day,” Damien said.
“Oh, thank The Fates,” Semele said with a sigh of relief.
Something brushed against the edges of my consciousness, a familiar presence.
Barrett?
I held up a hand to the others, silencing them, and Damien’s brows furrowed.
Yeah, Atlas?
Vincent, Anna, and Semele exchanged confused looks. Damien nodded his chin to the bar in a quiet gesture for them to leave us, and they dipped their heads before returning to the bar. Atlas’s voice slipped through my mind again, clear as if he stood next to me .
You got an update for me up there?
I chewed my lip, irritation swelling in my chest. I hadn’t seemed to get any closer to finding the slippery bastard responsible for the murders beyond the fact he was a Nous user.
Not enough to name him, but I’m getting closer. All I know is he’s blond and a Nous user. Attacked a human girl tonight and had a run-in with two warriors on patrol around eleven, twelve o’clock.
Damien crouched beside me, remaining silent so as to avoid any chance Atlas might pick up that he was aware of our conversation.
I’ll check my men’s whereabouts during those times, see if we can pinpoint anyone who fits that description. Fin and Clo came upon a pair of humans left in the tunnel.
I stiffened, sucking in a breath. Fin and Clo were the nightmarish creatures that stalked the tunnels around The Underworld. My mind dredged up the horror those souls suffered in their final moments.
Both matched the description of the others you spoke of.
I cursed under my breath.
So it is someone associated with The Underworld.
Yep, and I want them found and their throat slit. A dog who can’t be controlled isn’t one I want in my company.
I ran my hands over my face. While it gave me something of a lead, The Underworld was so innately intertwined with The Order in ways neither I nor Damien could fully comprehend.
No matter how much favor I gained with Atlas, he still had his pawns, still had his connections he disclosed to no one, not even to his right hand.
You still interested in joining me for a visit with Hades?
I sucked in a breath, and Damien tilted his head. My eyes slid to him, but I remained silent.
Yeah, when you leaving?
Be at the Propylaea in twelve hours.
Fuck. That left little room to prepare, but that was how he did his dealings. Movement on short notice was more difficult to track, more difficult to anticipate if we wanted to intercept them and continue to chip away at their operation without blowing my cover.
I’ll be there.