Chapter 4
Grayson
Grayson followed a quiet Cass into the funeral home, where the air of somber elegance surrounded them.
He couldn’t help but note the runes subtly placed throughout.
The bulk of them were Divine sigils that ranged from offering solace for mourners to providing eternal rest for those who were gone.
But he picked out a couple of necromancer runes in the warding patterns.
That was to be expected, considering the clientele.
Cass left him to follow the funeral home director into a privacy room where she could say goodbye to her grandmother.
When she reemerged, whatever respite the brief nap in the car from Boulder City had granted her was long gone, replaced by drawn paleness.
Grayson went to her side, noting the careful way she held herself and the reddened eyes behind her glasses.
He didn’t think she’d welcome his touch, though it was hard not to offer comfort.
She remained stiff during the conversation with the director until he reassured her that the logistics were being taken care of as instructed by her grandmother’s will, not her parents.
Only then did her shoulders ease, and she inched a little closer to his side.
He didn’t hesitate to curl an arm around her waist and take her weight.
Somber goodbyes were exchanged, and he led her back out into the bright morning light.
Without removing his arm, he walked with her across the parking lot.
He dug the car remote out of his pocket and clicked it, releasing the locks with a soft beep.
They stopped at the passenger side, and he gently tugged her out of the way as he opened the door.
Before he could usher her in, she turned fully into him and dropped her forehead to his chest. He tugged off her glasses then tightened his arms and bent his head over hers, holding her close as she buried her face against him.
Her grief was a quiet storm of tears dampening his shirt as her frame was wracked by the occasional shudder.
It left him battered at the edges, but he gave what he could—a safe harbor for her pain.
The feeling was old and familiar, but he turned away from the memories and concentrated on the here and now.
Eventually, the tears and tremors stopped, but she didn’t pull away, so he didn’t let go. Instead, he waited, letting her dictate the next step. He wasn’t surprised when it didn’t take long for her to regather her composure and lift her head, her attention aimed at the car, not him.
“Sorry,” she mumbled as she swiped fingers under her eyes.
“Nothing to be sorry for.” Grayson handed over her glasses, and she took them with a sigh and pulled away. He let her go so he could open the door. “Did you get a chance to let Isa and Des know you made it to Vegas?”
“I sent them a text earlier.” Cass, glasses back in place, pulled her phone out as she settled into the passenger seat and snapped the seat belt in place. “I also sent one to my parents, letting them know we were coming.”
Not that it was his place, but… “You sure you want to head over now?”
“Better to get it over with.”
“All right.” It was her choice.
He made a motion to close the door, but she put her hand out and stopped him. Then she waited until their gazes met. “You sure you want to stick around?” The tone of her question was teasing, but it couldn’t hide the worried shadows in her eyes.
He scrounged up a reassuring smile. “I’m good, Cass.”
She studied him for a long moment before she dropped her hand. “Okay. Just remember, you promised to let me know if that changes.”
Since he figured that wasn’t going to happen, he simply said, “Put in your parents’ address.”
Grayson wasn’t expecting the GPS to lead them away from the tourist trap of the Las Vegas strip and west toward Spanish Elms, one of the ritzier neighborhoods and home to a variety of high-profile people, including one of Vegas’s leading Arcane Families.
The million-dollar custom homes populating the eleven neighborhoods ranged from ostentatious to intimidating, and the manicured golf course and multiple green spaces that spread across six hundred forty acres were a far cry from the xeriscape neighborhoods surrounding it.
His surprise must have shown on his face, because Cass asked, “What?”
He dared a glance at her before going back to driving. “You don’t strike me as the Spanish Elms type.”
“I’m not,” she said with a hint of defensiveness. “My parents moved in right before I left home.”
A quick mental calculation told him they’d lived there for at least twelve years. “Where were you all before that?”
“With my yaya in Summerlin. My parents wanted something bigger and closer to their business clients, so we moved.” Her even tone held a sliver of resentment.
“You were in high school, right?”
She fiddled with her seat belt. “Incoming freshman when we switched over.”
Which meant she’d most likely lost her circle of friends and had to start all over with a new crowd. “Sounds rough.”
Cass looked out the passenger window. “It was.”
Her two-word agreement held an unspoken warning, so he backed off. “I’m curious—what is your family’s business?”
There was a long pause. “Ever heard of Pythia Strategies?”
The name tickled but didn’t find purchase. “No. What do they do?”
“Strategic business forecasting.”
“Sounds…” Grayson wasn’t sure how to finish that sentence.
“Boring? Uptight? Pretentious?” she supplied wryly.
Although he agreed, he still raised his eyebrows at her word choice. “How about I go with expensive?”
She gave a cute huff. “They can definitely be that.” She was quiet a moment.
“My grandparents started the company. They kept it small, picking and choosing which businesses to partner with, but after my grandfather passed, Yaya turned it over to my parents. Since demand was high, it didn’t take much for them to expand the company. ”
“I’m guessing they wanted you to be part of it.”
“I can’t remember a time when I didn’t know that was the expectation.
As the oldest, and as someone naturally inclined to the work, I was supposed to eventually take the helm.
Problem was, that wasn’t what I wanted. My mom and I would get into these arguments, and no matter how much I tried to explain, she’d shut me down.
It didn’t help that I had no clue about what I actually wanted, just that I wanted nothing to do with Pythia. ”
He could picture a younger Cass facing down a demanding mother. “It couldn’t have been easy standing up to her like that.”
“No, it was far from easy, but it was necessary,” she said. “And if I hadn’t left, I wouldn’t have Isa, Des, or Wonderland.”
He tagged along with her shift in conversation. “And that would be a real shame, because your bar is the shit.”
That earned him a surprised laugh. “Thank you?”
“Just sharing the truth.”
He kept the conversation light until they turned off Tropicana and drove along the curved turnout to the gate guarding the neighborhood. As Grayson slowed to a stop next to the brick facade of the guardhouse, a man stepped out.
Grayson powered down his window and heard Cass undo her seat belt. Placing a hand on his thigh for balance, she leaned over. “Hi, Luca.”
The guard bent down to see inside, and his expression went from blank to warm. “Good morning, Ms. Alcmene.”
“Cass,” she corrected with a familiar ease. “How’s the family?”
“Good.” He put his hand on the roof of the car. “Amelia’s starting kindergarten this year.”
“I bet Caro’s happy to get some alone time.”
He shook his head, and wry amusement filled his face. “She switches between happy and sad, depending on the day.”
“It’s hard to watch little ones grow up. Tell them both hi from me and give Amelia a big hug.”
“Will do. I’m so sorry to hear about your grandmother,” he said, his tone softening.
Cass’s smile dimmed, and the hand on Grayson’s thigh tightened, but her warm tone didn’t waver. “Thank you, Luca. I appreciate it.”
“Share my condolences with your parents, please.” When she nodded, Luca swept his gaze over Grayson, gave the roof a pat, then stepped back. “You take care of yourself, Cass.”
“You too,” she said.
As Luca disappeared inside the guardhouse, she sat back.
Grayson powered up the window as the warmth of her touch faded.
Once the gate opened, he pulled through and followed the GPS directions along the tree-lined streets.
He’d been here once before for a job, one that involved a wealthy client who had pissed off the wrong woman and, by extension, had earned the guy a very nasty curse.
It wasn’t officially recorded anywhere, since his services could be obtained discreetly for the right price.
And that price was pretty steep for a man who didn’t want the reasons behind his inability to sexually perform made public, especially to his wife.
With each passing moment, he could feel the tension emanating from the woman sitting next to him.
Her hands were knotted together in her lap, her gaze focused straight ahead, and her breathing modulated.
If he hadn’t been clued in that things were rough with her family, this mental and emotional donning of armor would have been a clear indication that whatever lay in wait would not be good.