78. Anson
SEVENTY-EIGHT
ANSON
T hree days.
She’d been gone for three whole fucking days. Not a word from her. There was no news on the streets. Nothing coming from the underground.
Everything had gone radio silent.
I’d barely slept. All I did was roam the streets.
I’d even called Matteo. I hadn’t reached him.
Instead, I’d gotten Klaus, who said Matteo was working and he’d call me back.
He still hadn’t, but that had to be my answer that he didn’t have her either.
I was certain Klaus would have said something anyway if they had Rosalie.
Instead, he hung up, leaving me even more frustrated.
I rubbed my eyes from the front seat of my Challenger, out of ideas.
I knew the horsemen were losing their minds.
I couldn’t even look at them because I felt like this was all my fault.
Cole and I wouldn’t have gotten into it if I had just called her instead of rushing over to her. She’d still be here.
I let out a soft cry as I wiped my eyes.
Fuck, I was terrified. If something happened to her, I’d die too.
It was bad enough that I was scared out of my goddamn head, but I knew Ethan was struggling even harder.
They’d been knocking him out nearly every time he woke because he’d been losing his shit.
Fox said he’d destroyed the living room and kitchen in a rage and panic.
It took all three of them and two of Enzo’s men to bring him down the last time.
And Fox. He was barely holding it together. We continued to keep in touch, but it was hard to hear him breaking apart.
I was at a loss, a first for me. Enzo wouldn’t speak to me. Not that I expected him to. His hatred for me was usually well-kept, but the look in his eyes told me if something happened to her, I’d be the next to go because I knew he blamed me, too.
I wiped my eyes again. I’d been crying like a bitch since she left.
It didn’t help that now I had the burden of carrying out Fox’s other plan.
That wasn’t how I wanted her. I knew it would break her to give in to me.
It would be a nasty storm of events afterward because she’d tell the guys.
I’d have to face that music head-on and hope I didn’t die in the process because Cole Scott was looking for a reason.
This would definitely be the reason.
My phone buzzed, and I picked it up.
“Hello?”
“Anything?” Fox’s voice came over the line.
“Nothing,” I whispered. “Dead ends. No one has seen her. It’s like she’s a ghost.”
Fox was quiet for so long that I had to check to ensure the call was still connected.
“I’m sorry,” I choked out. “This is my fault?—”
“It’s not,” Fox said. “Don’t, man. We’re dealing with E right now. He’s so fucking wasted that he doesn’t know up from down. We’ve barely slept. I know he’s trying to keep it together, but he’s so fucking high that he’s irrational. I don’t need to talk you down, too.”
I inhaled deeply. He was right.
“I’m going to see Everett Church,” I said thickly. “Today. I’ll kill him if he doesn’t give me the right answers.”
“Do you want me to go with you?—”
“No,” I said quickly. “It’s not a good place. I can handle it. I don’t need shit happening to you. Keep looking for Rosalie and watch Ethan. I’ll call you as soon as I get out.”
“If I don’t hear from you within the hour, I’ll come get you,” Fox said fiercely.
“It won’t come to that. I own the Underground,” I said softly. “Everett Church bows to me, not the other way around.”
“Be safe. Brother. ”
My throat tightened at his term of endearment. I nodded even though he couldn’t see me.
“I will.”
“Archangel. To what do I owe the pleasure ?” Everett asked as I stormed into his office in the Underground.
My guts twisted at his implications. I’d done all I could to tear the memory of his cock buried inside me out of my head, all in the name of saving the girl I loved. The past had a sick way of returning.
“Come to… come ?” He raised his brows at me. “Maybe on my cock?”
“Fuck you,” I snarled, wrapping my hand around his throat. “Where’s Rosalie?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he rasped.
I tightened my hold on his throat, knowing I could crush his windpipe if I held on any harder.
His face darkened to an ugly shade of red before purple.
I released him, and he stumbled back, choking wildly as he tried to rake in air.
“I don’t have her,” he snarled at me. “If I did, we’d be in a very different situation.”
I glared at him. He was right. If he had her, we’d know about it. He was a narcissistic prick who would sing like a canary to know he was getting under someone’s skin. In this case, the horsemen.
“Perhaps you need help?” he asked, finally righting himself. “I could offer assistance. For a price.”
“I swear I’ll fucking gut you and then hang you by your entrails,” I snapped at him.
“All I’m saying, Archangel, is that you need help, and I have help. Do you not want your sweet songbird back?” He stared back at me, a wicked look in his eyes.
Fuck, I hated this man to the very depths of my soul. I was sure there were special places in Hell for monsters like him.
But I wanted my LeeLee back.
“What do you want?” I demanded.
His grin grew. “I want free rein here for a week of my choosing. I get to collect more souls. None that you’re interested in,” he added quickly. “Just a few who have done me wrong or my associates wrong. In exchange, I will let you have Sylar.”
I stared him down. Sylar would be helpful.
He knew plenty of things no one else knew.
The guy was a special case of nuts and fucked up.
I figured he was psychic. Or psycho. It depended on how one viewed a man who could hear voices, see the future, get into people’s heads, and murder people without batting an eyelash.
While I hated giving Everett free rein for a week, I wanted Rosalie.
Sylar would be a good start.
“Fine,” I agreed softly.
Everett went to his phone and made a brief call.
“My office. Now.”
He hung up and smiled at me. “How have you been, Archangel? I’ve heard you’re close with the horsemen. Do they invite you into their bed to fuck their whore?”
I lunged at him without a second thought, my fist cracking him hard across his face. He stumbled back against the wall, and I pressed my forearm against his throat.
“I could kill you with a twist of my arm. Dead. Fucking gone,” I snarled at him. “Is that what you want? Huh? Is that how you want to die? Never fucking talk about her or the horsemen like that again. Understand?”
He choked out a garbled answer as I continued to glare at him.
Why I didn’t just end him was beyond me.
I was sure it had something to do with his son.
Dante Church would be a fucking force to be reckoned with if he took over the Underground.
There would be no negotiating with him. I was positive Dante only ran on hatred and violence.
Everyone in the Underground feared Dante Church.
He’d most likely want to avenge his father.
Then again, I didn’t know shit about their relationship except they were related, and Dante was more fucked up than Everett was.
It wasn’t a can of worms I wanted to open. At least, not yet.
“Archangel. We thought we saw you,” Sylar’s deep voice boomed out as he entered the room.
I released Everett and stepped back, knowing Sylar was also a force to be reckoned with. He, however, was more on my side than Everett’s; at least, he was the last time we’d seen one another.
We’d murdered Alice together, after all. If that didn’t say best fucking friends, I didn’t know what did.
Bonded in blood in the underground and all that.
“I need your help,” I said, turning to him.
“I know,” he answered. “I’m at your service.”
I nodded and stepped past him. I stopped at the door before looking over my shoulder at Everett.
“If you fuck anything up even close to my life, I’ll come for you and tear your guts through your dick hole. Understand?”
“Perfectly.” Everett gave me a tight smile.
Satisfied with that answer, I pulled the door open and stepped into the hall. Sylar walked with me, and neither spoke until we were in my car.
“Get in,” I said, opening my door.
Wordlessly, he followed my orders and slid onto the leather passenger seat. I started the car, left the Underground, and didn’t speak until we were far enough away that I felt relief.
“What have you seen?” I asked.
“Mm, I saw a skunk on my way in today. Nasty little stinker. Had me afraid I’d end up smelling like its ass?—”
“Sylar,” I snapped, glaring at him. “I’m in a bit of a situation here. My girl is missing.”
“Not your girl,” he murmured. “We killed your girl. I distinctly remember the way her blood smelled on my hands.”
“Alice was never my girl.”
“She was in her mind,” he answered, stretching his neck from side to side, his black face mask in place.
He had vibrant blue eyes and a mess of dark hair.
He rivaled me in size and was in and out of the Chapel Crest psych facility in Northern Michigan all the damn time.
The guy was a complete headcase, but he knew his shit.
“Please, man. Help me,” I said, pulling off to the side of the street. “I’m worried about her. If something happened?—”
“Shh.” He waved me off and stared out the window.
I frowned and followed his gaze. Quickly, he undid his seatbelt and got out.
“What the fuck,” I muttered, following him.
He strode to Twisty Cone and went inside. Irritated, I followed him to find him at the counter, placing an order.
“Seriously? Fucking ice cream?” I demanded.
He cast me a brief look. “Get him something with chocolate. I think he’s PMS’ing.”
“I don’t fucking want chocolate!” I snapped at him.
He sighed as the girl behind the counter looked a little scared.
“Fine. Cookies and Cream. Put it in a cone. He’s just going to throw it away anyway.”
I ground my teeth in frustration as he paid for the order, took his soft serve mint chocolate chip and cookies and cream cones, and walked out.
I followed him, and he was quick to hand me my cone.
“Sylar. Fucking hell. I need your help.” I took the cone and threw it at a group of pigeons. He stopped and raised his brows at me.
“I knew you were going to do that.”
I tugged at my hair in frustration.
“Easy, big guy. Come. I just needed to refuel. Everett tried to make me eat some guy’s testicles today. I don’t know about you, but I’ve always enjoyed pussy over testicles. I needed something to cleanse my palette.”
“You ate human testicles today?” I frowned as we walked back to my car.
“Active listening, Archangel. I said he tried.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of what were definitely poached fucking testicles.
“I put them in my pocket. I used to do that with my Aunt Glenda’s nasty fucking oatmeal raisin cookies.
Shit was so hard you could build a house with them. ”
I watched as he threw the testicles baseball pitcher style at the group of pigeons, sending the birds squawking and scattering.
“So. Rosalie. Bishop.” He popped the P on her name as he licked his cone, a faraway look in his blue eyes. He’d tugged his mask up enough to reveal his lips briefly.
“She’s missing?—”
“Mm, to some,” he murmured. He cocked his head to the left and smiled.
“ She’s hiding in plain sight, not far, not wide.
With fire-kissed hair, she will not hide.
A home he passed, a door untried, Where love and roots have long applied.
He searched the world through highs and lows but missed the place where true heart grows.
She’s not lost, just softly kissed—By the warmth of a home he has always missed. ”
I frowned at his words.
He turned to me. “I get to go with you when you pick her up. I want to meet her.”
I studied him, confused. “I don’t know where she’s at…” I widened my eyes at him. “She’s with my father.”
“Yahtzee, motherfucker. Shotgun.” He strode to my car, but not before taking his cone and smashing it onto someone’s windshield without a second glance.
I got behind the wheel and looked at him, wondering why my father had her and why he hadn’t told me. Anger raced through my veins before something else.
“It’s called hurt, but don’t be so down about it,” Sylar commented as I started the car. “He didn’t kill her. Only tried.”
And with those words, we roared back onto the street, tires screeching.