Chapter 6
Damnit.
“Riggs,” I say, pushing past him to stand. “Great to see you again so soon.”
He offers me a fake smile and steps in front of me, like he thinks I’m about to bolt for the door.
Shaw stands, and I notice his hands are balled into fists.
I know he realizes who this is, but Shaw isn’t the type to let anyone—including Riggs Haber—speak to me in an ill manner.
Riggs notices the shadow that Shaw casts from his large body and turns to face him with a cockiness only he possesses.
“Shaw Durante.” He sizes him up with a scowl. “You should think about the company you keep. Mara isn’t someone I’d want to be associated with.”
Shaw steps forward. “I don’t take orders from you, Chief.”
Riggs laughs. “Oh, but I know who you take orders from, and again, it looks bad on your end. Killing innocent waitresses? Please don’t tell me that they have demoted you, Mara.”
“We had nothing to do with this.” I step forward, allowing a bit of power to back me up.
He straightens and adjusts his belt, glancing at the body on the ground. He clicks his tongue and faces us once more.
“I won’t make you come down to the station, but I’m going to need you to tell me everything,” Riggs says, extending his hand toward the exit. “We should let the medics do their thing. We can talk about this outside.”
I notice a few policemen walking toward the kitchen, likely checking whether anyone else is around to conduct a brief interview about what happened.
I fight the urge to go after them to ensure they are caring for Sasha, but Shaw stops me.
Even though we did nothing, I’m not in a position to go against orders right now, even if they are from Haber.
We exit the diner and are immediately bombarded with the sounds of the city, the world still functioning despite the death that occurred a few feet away from the people on the sidewalk.
I cut my eyes to Shaw, and he gives me a reassuring smile, urging me to step forward. I watch as Riggs glances at Shaw. Without realizing it, Riggs tightens his fist when Shaw’s gaze meets his, and confusion washes over me.
“Now,” Riggs says as we approach his cop car. “Durante, what happened?”
Shaw begins speaking about what happened—the businessmen, the menu, and her fall.
It was a textbook accident if you ask me.
I look across the street and observe a sea of people heading to and from their jobs.
They continue with their heads down, phones in hand, music blasting in their ears, or chatting with friends or co-workers.
Accidents happen all the time, and that’s just part of living in a large city. More people mean more casualties.
I narrow my eyes as something catches my gaze across the street—a man stands deep within the shadows of a nearby alley.
He has no phone, no indication that he’s pausing for a break on his way to work.
He just stands, hands tucked in the long black trench that hangs from his large body.
In the darkness surrounding him, I can only see him from the neck down, the shadows completely shading his face.
A chill runs through me, and I squint harder, trying to make out his features.
Even with my eyesight, it’s impossible to see through the darkness enveloping him.
“Mara,” Shaw thunders.
“Yup.”
“Riggs is talking.”
I nod and pull my gaze away from across the way.
A chill runs up my spine because it’s been a long time since I’ve seen him, but the Grim constantly stalks in the shadows near death, ready to devour his next soul.
I inhale sharply, knowing that’s exactly who I just saw, because fear flows through my veins like ice.
I always know it’s him, like his presence is a stain on my tainted soul.
“I’m sorry, what?” I ask.
Riggs exhales a sigh. “Did you see anyone come into the diner that Shaw forgot? Did anything odd happen? I’m clearly boring you, but this is routine.”
I pause for a moment, replaying the events of the diner in my mind. We walked in, saw Sasha and the man. That demon entered the diner, accidentally dropping the menu. Wendy didn’t pick it up because she was either too distracted by his presence or too lazy. Either way, that cost Wendy her life.
“I don’t think he forgot anything,” I respond, looking past Riggs back into the alleyway where the Grim stood minutes before.
Riggs stares at us, clearly unamused that we were even here to begin with. Over the years, I know he has had to clean up messes from our assignments, even though we are professionals. Who knows what he deals with regarding the demons? He hates us, and it’s written all over his face.
“Alright,” Riggs says, his voice stern as he glances between the two of us. “There isn’t any foul play here. The girl slipped. That’s that.”
I move to step away, and Riggs’s hand wraps around my bicep. I pause and let my eyes trail behind me with a warning glance. “Have you been assigned anything yet?”
“Why the fuck would I tell you?” I question.
Shaw steps closer, signaling for the officer to release my arm, and he does, taking a step back. Riggs glares at Shaw, and the tension grows like a fog.
“Do not touch her again,” Shaw says, the threat evident as it leaves his mouth.
Riggs stands taller, undeterred by the intimidation. “Don’t let me catch you doing anything stupid, Mara. I wouldn’t want to see you behind bars again.”
“See you later, Riggs,” Shaw says.
“You? I really hope not,” Riggs sighs. “But I do have a feeling I’ll see Mara soon.”
The officer keeps his stare on Shaw longer than he should before moving back into the diner.
Relief washes over me, but the pang of what happened cracks my heart—mainly for Sasha.
I turn back to the diner, and swear I can see the stain that now marks the restaurant through the windows.
We watch Sasha for a moment as she speaks to the police through the glass.
Her face has fallen, and her typical happy demeanor has vanished.
I’m tempted to walk through those doors to assist with her emotions when Shaw grabs my arm.
“You can’t do that,” he cautions.
“Do what?”
Shaw gives me a warning look. “Toy with her emotions. I know that’s where you were heading.” He pauses. “Because I had the thought to do the exact same thing. She needs to deal with this. Burying it could end up badly.”
He’s right. Even though we can alter our own emotions, it doesn’t mean we should. Experiencing sadness, happiness, and even grief is part of living, and pushing these feelings into a compartment deep within your mind isn’t healthy.
We walk silently back to the Order, neither of us sure what to say. That was a turn of events I hadn't seen coming. Death follows me everywhere I go, and I’m starting to think it’s even more ingrained than I realized—and this is just the dark beginning.
We fall into a slow stroll, and the bustling city fills the silence for us. Shaw sighs, and I glance at him, only to see him do the same.
“Why didn’t you tell Riggs about that demon?” he angles his head.
Because I don’t really care.
I look forward. “Why didn’t you?”
He shrugs. “Because I didn’t think it was important.”
I scoff. “But you think it’s important enough now?”
Shaw goes quiet, not responding for several blocks, and I can tell he’s deep in thought. It’s about the only time this man is ever silent. I always teased him that he went quiet because he had to use all his brainpower to form a quality thought.
“I didn’t say anything because I got a weird vibe from him,” Shaw finally speaks.
“Well, duh.” I cut my gaze to him. “But you were trying to date him a minute ago.”
“You must have forgotten my humor, Mara. But something was off about him.” He pauses. “I didn’t say anything, because how in the hell would we explain him walking in, not eating, and dropping the menu that she killed herself on?”
“Hmm,” I respond, and don’t admit that I think that demon was looking for someone—me. “Maybe he was having as bad a day as we are.”
“I’m having a great day.” Shaw smiles.
We round the final corner, and the Order reappears.
The same big man stands near the parking garage, waiting for arrivals and guarding against anyone unwelcome.
We decide to take the back exit, hoping to avoid unwanted conversations with nosy angels or running into Lowell.
Given how quickly word spreads in this damn city, he’ll know about Wendy within the hour.
He’ll also know we were there, and after my stunt this morning, my chances are gone, and Shaw’s are getting slimmer since I’ve returned.
The back door is silent, dim, and lackluster compared to the main entrance.
The wooden stairs are worn from many years of feet traveling them.
The walls are covered in dark, chipping paint, and a heaviness seems to flow from them.
I always thought it’s exactly how I would describe Lowell—beautiful on the outside, but deep down, there’s something much darker.
Our steps echo through the stairwell, and a growing unease settles in my soul.
Shaw leads the way, leaving me to trail closely behind him.
I’d never let him know this, but this part of the Order has always terrified me.
Even though we only have three flights of stairs to climb, fear creeps into my bones.
I quicken my pace, nearly urging Shaw to move faster as the darkness descends the stairs like a rising black tide.
I glance at the open stairwell and see the towering floors, looming over me like the skyscrapers outside.
Darkness lurks behind and above me, sending another surge of fear through my veins.
I keep my eyes fixed above, too terrified to look behind me, and focus instead on the steps leading to what I think is the seventh floor. I gaze into the dimness and freeze.