Chapter Thirty-Six #2
“Alec Davies,” I say. “Head of his own criminal enterprise and is MacTavish adjacent, though no one will explain what that means.”
“Okay, we’ll save that for another day,” she waves her hand dismissively.
“Because the MacTavish family tree is more like a shrub from what I can see. But weren’t Alastair and Alec moving to combine their organizations and go legit?
Roman was complaining about it last night, saying everyone was getting so safe and boring. ”
“If they are, I don’t know what stage it’s at.” I pick up the leaves, sending them back out to play in the wind. “Wallace puts on a suit and… it’s like I can see his flame snuffing out.”
“There’s plenty of time to worry,” she says, throwing her napkin on the table. “You’re visiting his dad and mom this afternoon, right?”
“Yes.”
“Sorcha seems like a sweetheart. Get an idea of what the plan was before…” Even she has the proper manners to put it delicately. “You know, before.”
We head up to my bedroom, so Morgan can take more of my clothes until we can hit every funky boutique in London. She has a list.
“What the fuck is that doing here?”
She’s pointing at the fairy tale book, sitting on the table by the couch.
“The book? It was a wedding gift from one of Dad’s old associates. I didn’t realize I’d packed it back home, but we were in such a hurry, I was throwing everything into the suitcases, apparently including this.”
Morgan’s face is sheet white. “This book is bound in human skin, Scarlett! Whoever sent this to you is not your Dad’s friend. Do you know how fucked up this is? In most cultures a book like this is a curse. It means torture and death. Who sent it to you?”
“I don’t know,” I whisper, feeling nauseous and rather foolish. “There wasn’t a name on the card. Gio had the security department test it for safety before he brought it to me.”
“They wouldn’t know,” she says grimly. “But there are always signs, how the skin stretches over the cover, how they bind it…”
“This is horrible.” I put my hand over my mouth. “I’ll get a trash bag and we’ll throw it out.”
“Nope, it doesn’t work that way,” she says grimly.
“We take it outside. We surround it with salt, black cloth, a mirror and then we burn it. Not Wallace, you, since it was sent to you so we can lift the curse. We’ll pour the ashes into a river - the Thames is good - and then I am going to do the mother of all cleansing rituals in your bedroom. ”
When we’re finished, the backyard smells of oily smoke and the entire upper floor of the house reeks of burnt sage.
James leaves the house, looking like he wants to weep in private. Far away from us.
Wallace comes home that night, exhaustion etched in the fine lines around his face. The first thing he does is rip off his tie, and Murder Mittens immediately uses it to sharpen her claws, batting the blue silk and shredding it. “Ye saw Mum today at The Clinic?”
“I did. She looks a little better. She and Isobel are trading off on being with your dad. I offered, but…”
“That’s good,” he says, clearly not listening and stripping off his shirt.
“You must be starving. I could have James bring dinner up here?” I smile, trying to catch his eye. “Eat in bed, get crumbs on those Giza Egyptian cotton sheets… get some sleep?”
He’s already pulling on his tactical suit. “I’m sorry wife, the team is waiting for me.”
“Do you have to do every one of these jobs? Is this about The Gadfly?” I force myself to sound calm, when what I really want to do is leap on him like a spider monkey and refuse to let him go. Just wrap my arms and legs around him until he gives up and stays home with me.
“We’re finished with The Gadfly. There’s nothing left of his mob.” He checks the clip on his gun before putting it in his shoulder holster. “Dmitri shot him last night. He got away, but he’s likely bleeding to death in an alley somewhere.”
Wallace smiles, and it’s so malevolent that he’s almost unrecognizable, his full lips thinned, his cheekbones casting a harsh shadow over his face.
“We’ve been hitting Kholodov Bratva businesses over the last week, draining offshore accounts, cutting off his suppliers. And now? I’m going to tear Xavier Kholodov apart.”
The next few days blend in with each other.
I visit The Clinic every day, asking his mother if there’s anything I can do. We play cards. I bring her more pastries. She never leaves Alastair’s room unless Alec is there.
James the butler has accepted that we seem to be here to stay, and a bleak resignation falls over him like a shroud.
Wallace leaves the house in the morning in a suit, then again at night loaded with weapons. In the early morning hours, I wake up to find him inside me, murmuring sweet words in a hoarse whisper before he sleeps with me for a few hours.
Morgan tries to help me keep my sanity, but she’s got issues of her own. When she finds out that the only way she can leave the house is with an entourage of bodyguards, she’s so enraged that even the Familiars run away, hiding under her bed.
We spend hours online, ordering items for the new shop with a platinum card that showed up next to Morgan’s breakfast plate one morning with a note.
Then one afternoon, my phone rings, making me jump.
“Mrs. Taylor? It’s Dr. Greenwood at The Clinic.” He’s got the dry, weary tone of a man who’s had enough of stitching people up. The fact that I know Wallace and Alec have been subtly threatening him to find a way to magically repair Alastair’s injuries isn’t helping.
“Yes?” My heart’s pounding out of my chest. Is Wallace hurt?
“I can’t seem to reach your husband, perhaps you can-”
“What? I’m sorry to be rude, what’s happening?”
“It’s Alastair,” he says in relief. “He’s regained consciousness, he’s asking for you both.”
“I’ll find Wallace! We’ll- we’ll be right there!”
“Gio!” I screech, galloping down the stairs.
He comes racing out of the kitchen with a sandwich in his hand. “Oh, thank god,” he says, gulping down a mouthful. “I thought you were hurt.”
“We’re going to The Clinic! Alastair has regained consciousness! Do you know where Wallace is?”
“I’ll send a text to his head of security.” He hastily finishes the sandwich. “But he’ll answer you first.”
Morgan comes in from the garden. “What’s happening?”
“Wallace’s dad, he’s out of the medically induced coma!
He’s talking, he wants to see us!” I’m mindlessly shoving things into my backpack, my wallet, keys, Murder Mittens…
who I then try to remove. She glares up at me, daring me to try to get her back out.
I give up and put the pack over my shoulder.
“Will you keep trying to call Wallace too? Or- or Roman? Dimitri? They might be with him. Michael- Michael probably would-”
Morgan smacks my boob with the back of her hand.
“Ow! What the hell, Morgan!”
“I didn’t want to have to do that,” she says defensively. “Take a breath. Are you no longer losing your shit?”
“I’m good, I am.” I’m half laughing and half crying and it’s very disconcerting.
“Well, go then,” she snaps. “You have a medical miracle to witness!”
“Scarlett, please slow down!” Gio’s hustling behind me as I multitask by racing for the armored Range Rover we use as I dial Wallace’s number again.
We waste more time waiting for the extra four guards to climb into the second car. Finally, finally we’re speeding though Surrey, heading for The Clinic. I text Wallace again.
It’s huge, the big gray truck tearing through the intersection and the last thing I see is the armored silver grille before it hits us.