Chapter 16
Royal
Legend’s in his office, staring at the map of Pearly Gates as if he is itching to set it on fire with his eyes alone. I linger at the doorway.
He notices. “Spit it out, Royal.”
My jaw grinds. “Becki got out.”
Legend’s head snaps up so fast the chair creaks under him. “What?”
“She slipped her chain. Went to the basement of the old church.”
Silence.
Not the normal kind. The dangerous kind that vibrates under the bones. He rises to his full height, eyes dark and lethal, every line of his body bracing for war.
“How the hell did she get out?” he demands answers. “How’d she get into the basement?”
That’s the reason I didn’t tell him earlier. I take a breath, shaky. “She stole a key.”
Legend’s face goes dead blank. No emotion. Just the stillness right before something detonates.
“A key,” he repeats slowly. “To the old church?”
“Yeah. To the basement hatch.”
“Who gave it to her?”
“She said she stole it from Crowley.”
Legend laughs once, a single hard bark of disbelief. “Crowley never let that key out of his sight. She had to get close. Too close.”
“She’s not lying.”
“She’s always lying, Royal!” Legend slams his palm onto the table, maps jumping. “You lock her, and she slips out like a snake. You think that ain’t manipulation? You think she didn’t want you to follow?”
“Maybe she did.” My voice drops. “But what she showed me wasn’t a setup.”
Legend narrows his eyes. “How do you know? What did she show you?”
I reach into my cut pocket and pull out the scrap of fabric, pink, glittery, stiff where dried blood soaked in. I drop it on the table between us.
Legend stares at it. At first he doesn’t move. Then he does. Just one step back, slow, as if giving the cloth room to breathe.
“Where’d you find that?” he says, his eyes wide.
“Basement wall,” I answer. “Behind the shelving. Looked like it got torn off someone when they were dragged.”
Legend’s throat works. “Dragged.”
“Yeah.”
He reaches out, touches the glitter with two fingers, hesitates, then snatches his hand back like it burned him.
“That’s Marlena’s,” he says.
“Thought so.”
His shoulders rise, fall, rise again as he tries to get a breath past the fury expanding in his chest.
He grabs the fabric in a tight fist. “You’re telling me that girl found proof of one of our missing women right where she led you?”
“She didn’t find it,” I shoot back. “She’s been in that basement before. But I found it.”
He growls. “Royal, she’s Crowley’s daughter. She was raised in those goddamn walls. She was groomed to protect his secrets.”
I step toward him. “Or she was groomed to hide her own.”
Legend looks at me like he wants to shake sense into the both of us.
“You should’ve told me the second she got out,” he says. “I could’ve…”
“She was with me,” I cut in. “The whole time. I put her back.”
“That ain’t the point.”
“No,” I agree. “The point is this. Whatever Crowley was doing down there? It wasn’t just sermons and punishment rooms. Girls didn’t disappear into thin air. They were taken. And Becki’s the only reason we even found this shit.”
Legend looks at the glitter like it’s a confession.
“You trust her,” he accuses.
“I don’t trust anyone,” I snap.
He studies me again, quiet now, dangerous. “But you believe her.”
“Yeah,” I say. “I do. About this.”
Legend drags both hands down his face, shaking his head. He looks older than he ever has, tired, furious, undone in a way only Hell, Kentucky can do to a man.
“Goddamn it, Royal.”
“Yeah,” I say again.
He grips the glitter scrap so tight his hands quake.
“What about Becki?” I ask.
His eyes flick up. Hard. Commanding. “She stays locked up.”
“She’s useful.”
“She’s unpredictable.”
“She’s alive,” I say quietly. “And if she’s telling the truth? She’s a target.”
Legend steps close, boots scuffing. “You keep her contained. You keep her quiet. And you keep your fucking hands off her. You’re too close already.”
My pulse spikes.
He sees it.
His expression sharpens. “Yeah. I know.”
I don’t deny it.
Legend pockets the glitter fabric and heads for the door. Before he leaves, he glances back over his shoulder.
“If she got out once, she’ll try again,” he warns.
“She won’t,” I growl.
“She will,” he counters. “Because she’s a Crowley. And because she knows you’ll come running.”
The door slams behind him.
And I’m left in a room that suddenly feels too small, too hot, too full of Becki’s shadow.