Chapter Four
Four
The wall explodes in a shower of dust and glass, but the crow has knocked me behind a couch that mostly shelters me from the debris. For a moment, I’m too dazed to react. The glasses have shielded my eyes, but dust is filling my lungs. I pull the collar of the lab coat over my nose.
The decaying crow hops on my shoulder and caws gratingly several times.
“I know, I know. I’m going.” I grunt as I push myself off the floor and stumble toward the crashed hearse. “Jesus, right in my ear.”
I yank at the passenger-side door so I can slide right in, but a chunk of debris keeps the door from opening wide enough. I try to force it open wider once, twice, but it’s no use.
Across the room, people are coughing.
I give the door a good kick, but it still doesn’t budge.
“Get in the back,” says a voice from within.
“I’m not getting in the back,” I snap.
The hearse revs its engine and starts to back away.
“Okay, sorry, wait! I’ll get in the back!” I scramble for the rear door, even as the car doesn’t slow. I throw myself inside the carpeted interior, slamming the door shut just as we clear the building.
The hearse swivels back, and I’m thrown to the other side. I’ve just gotten my bearings when we shoot forward and I face-plant into one of the rubber things that keeps caskets from sliding around.
We take a corner too fast as I’m scrambling into the front seat. My forehead smacks into the passenger-side window just as a car screeches to a stop inches in front of my face. I don’t even have time for the rush of adrenaline to hit before we’re taking off toward Back Bay.
It’s not until we’re safely in Mass Ave traffic that the driver finally speaks.
“Seat belt” is all they say.
I fumble for the belt. “Well, hello to you too. And what are you doing in Boston?”
They keep their eyes on the road and tighten their jaw, responding with a single grunt. This is
CJ
Empath, designated muscle-slash-wheelman, and eleven-times-great-grandchild of the Titan Melinoe.
And yes, this should mean they’re part of the Phantoms. But they’re not the biggest fan of their family, so they ran away at thirteen, found their way into my parents’ crew by fifteen, and immediately became best friends with my brother.
“New haircut?” I ask.
CJ doesn’t say anything, just grips the wheel tighter.
They look much better than the last time I saw them a few months ago.
There are streaks of blond through their auburn hair, swirled into a single curl at the top of their head, the sides freshly shaved.
They’re wearing a leather jacket with a rainbow Theysbian pin fastened to the lapel.
That’s a good sign. Dante gave it to them, and I haven’t seen them wear it since he died.
“Okay, fine,” I say. “I know I said I wouldn’t do another job by myself, but I’m a compulsive liar. So, really, it’s on you for believing me.”
They only grunt in response.
CJ knows I’ve been running jobs, but they don’t know what for. Or what kind of jobs. If they knew I was staking out syndicates, they would lose it. If they knew I was going into the Afterlife without an alchemist? There’s a chance they would send me there for real.
“Uh…how did you find me?” I ask delicately.
They don’t respond.
I’ve long suspected they’ve got some kind of tracking spell on me, and I’d be angry, except it’s saved my ass a couple of times.
Or maybe they just used Find My Friends.
At any rate, they’re the only member of the crew I’m still in contact with, and I have a hunch it’s because they promised my brother to keep an eye on me.
That and my sparkling personality.
We head down Mass Ave, the Boston skyscrapers growing smaller in the rearview mirror.
The passing streetlights strobe CJ’s tight expression.
Downturned mouth, squinted eyes. That’s normal.
There’s a tic in their jaw, though, that only shows up when they’re trying not to feel other people’s emotions.
As a descendant of Melinoe, CJ has magic in their bones.
Even if they’d never been to the Afterlife, they’d still have their abilities, because like every Titan, Melinoe has passed on her magic to her progeny.
The magic in this case being telepathy, or—like with CJ—telepathic-adjacent abilities, including telempathy.
By rights, they should be able to influence emotion as well as read it, but they never try.
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t irritated.
I’d kill for even the tiniest bit of magic, while here’s CJ, ignoring and resenting their power.
I mentally catalog my current emotions. Excitement. Relief. Nostalgia. That little bit of ever-present guilt I try to ignore.
It’s probably the nostalgia that’s irritating CJ right now. Not that they’re a fan of really any emotion, but they don’t like thinking about the past. They rarely bring up their childhood. Or their time with the crew. Or even Dante.
I sigh and look out the window. “Can’t make much of a getaway in Boston traffic,” I mutter.
They throw me a quick glance. “Hmm.”
I have to admit, they’re right: I’m the reason we’re stuck in traffic in the first place. If I’d been smarter, I would have chosen a moritory in the suburbs.
Dante would have chosen a moritory in the suburbs.
Dante wouldn’t have needed to do this job to begin with.
“Look, it was a quick job. I had it under control—”
CJ doesn’t interrupt me per se, but a skeptical aura of oh, really? is rolling off them in waves.
“Okay, maybe not as under control as it could have been,” I concede.
We’re slowly moving through the streets of Dorchester, taking a tangle of backstreets.
“Everything ended up fine,” I continue. “I got out of there with the information I needed and”—I stop myself before I say something about Pete’s passwords—“aaaand everything turned out alright!”
We drive toward the cemetery, the houses now smaller and closer together. CJ still doesn’t say anything, so I count streetlights until I can’t stand the silence anymore.
“Okay, and yes, I absolutely appreciate you coming to save me. Although it wasn’t necessary, it was impeccable timing.”
CJ’s lips thin as they turn onto a gravel driveway, parking the hearse in an empty lot across from the cemetery.
I sigh. “You didn’t have to do that, you know. I can handle myself.”
They lightly drum on the steering wheel, taking a steadying breath. Finally, they look at me, their eyes tight, jaw tighter. I wonder if they have one of those retainers that keep you from grinding your teeth at night.
“Look,” I say, “I know after Dante’s…death, I kind of lost it.”
(Personally, I think I had an appropriate reaction, but there’s no use arguing with CJ when they get like this.)
“But I’m doing better now.” Lie. “I’m being more realistic.” Lie. “I’ve accepted Dante’s gone.”
Lie.
I don’t feel bad about lying. It’s a necessary part of the job. But I do get a weird feeling in my chest when I lie to CJ. It’ll go away eventually though, so I ignore it.
“I hate disappointing you,” I mutter.
CJ reaches over me to open the passenger door. “I’m not disappointed,” they say. “Just angry.”
I wince and get out.
As soon as I step out of the car, the empty lot around me transforms into a lush patch of land on which sits a small Tudor-style house.
My house.
Well, the house my parents left me.
I mean, I guess they left it to me. They left. And now I have it.
Okay, disappeared is maybe a better word. To be fair, I don’t know if they left on purpose. One day, a dozen demons showed up at the house, and Mom had us hide in the basement. Then two days later, my parents were gone. No note, just gone, leaving Dante and me on our own.
And sure, it might not sound like the smartest idea to stay in a house that’s caught the attention of demons, but it’s not like I have anywhere else to go.
Plus, it’s well protected. Mom paid good money for an illusion that hides the house from everyone except those who know it’s there and mean no harm.
Luckily, the spell doesn’t need any upkeep because I’ve sure been lacking when it comes to maintaining the house. Ivy crawls up the side, and not in a charming way. In a being-reclaimed-by-nature way. The paint is fading, and if CJ looks too closely, they’ll see the east bedroom window smashed out.
That was an accident. Don’t ask.
I don’t invite them in. I can do without the lecture about moving on, and also I don’t want them to see what I’ve done to the place.
That the electricity was cut off. That I’ve sold off anything of monetary value and all that’s left are piles of things I can’t sell and Dante’s belongings locked away in his room.
The engine revs behind me, and I turn to see CJ swerve the hearse around, the force of it shutting the passenger door, and with a screech of acceleration, they take off down the street.
“Well, good night to you too!” I call after them, watching the taillights get smaller until they disappear around a corner.
Somewhere, an owl hoots. Wind rustles the trees.
I pull my arms around myself, shivering.
Fishnets aren’t the most practical option this time of year.
I ditched the lab coat in the car, but at least I still have my leather jacket.
Fortunately, the house is insulated pretty well, or tonight would be tough.
Dried leaves crunch under my boots as I walk up the steps.
I enter my passcode into the smart lock before remembering, oh yeah, no electricity means no security system.
I find the key under a dead potted plant, and once I’ve unlocked the door, I wait for a moment, listening for the sound of wings on the wind.
When I don’t hear it, I push the door in with my shoulder. It’s dark.
I fumble for the candle I left nearby and spark it to life with my lighter.
“Hello, Elle,” a voice says. I whirl around.
My first thought is that the demons have finally come for me. But instead of charred veins and curved horns, standing in the living room is a dark-haired boy in a three-piece suit.
He pulls at the cuffs of his sleeves and straightens his tie. The flicker of the candlelight throws the angles of his face into harsh contrast as he grins wolfishly.
“You’re a hard woman to find.”