Chapter 16 #2
He nodded as they passed under the streetlight and hopped the curb to the path that led through the complex. The faint sound of a car door opening and closing came from somewhere behind them.
“That means you’ll be staying in and studying?” she asked.
“Unless I need to go out and grab something. Why?”
She worried her bottom lip. “I need to do a divining, maybe get a better idea of what we’re up against.”
They turned into the breezeway, and under the outdoor lights, he studied the weary slump of her shoulders and the shadows darkening her face. The circles under her eyes were obvious even through her tinted lenses.
He tried to be diplomatic. “You’re exhausted, Cass. Maybe you should rest first.”
“I’m fine,” she lied with a tight smile. He raised his eyebrows, and her smile turned genuine as she leaned in and bumped shoulders with him. “Okay, not exactly fine, but fine enough. Besides, you’ll be there, so I won’t stay under long.”
Remembering her warning about spiraling out, he waited until they’d climbed the exterior stairs to the second floor and then asked, “And if you cascade?”
Determination wiped out her faint humor. “I won’t go deep.”
They got to his door, where he undid the locks and then the security rune before holding it open for her. “I’m going to hold you to that.”
She moved to pass but stopped in front of him, her hands resting on his chest as she pressed a quick kiss to his jaw. When she pulled back, she held his gaze. “I’ll be fine.”
He brushed the back of his hand over her cheek. “I know.” He would make certain of it.
Cass smiled, and she walked inside, leaving him to follow. “You mind if I take a quick shower?”
“No.” He closed the door and reset his wards to sentry mode as she headed toward the bedroom.
Not that he expected unwanted company, but you never knew who would drop by.
He tossed his keys on the counter and set the books on one of the barstools as she disappeared.
“You hungry?” Grayson called out as he went to the refrigerator and opened it.
“Not really. If you have tea, I’ll take that.”
He closed the fridge and turned to his cupboard. After digging behind a box of cereal, he found what he was looking for. “I’ve got orange spice, Earl Grey, and one called wild raspberry hibiscus.”
“The raspberry works.”
“Got it.” He pulled it out then unearthed an electric teakettle his sister had given him after swearing that microwaving water for tea was uncivilized.
He heard the shower go on as he set the kettle to heat.
Grayson leaned against the counter and pulled out his phone.
He was about to check his notifications when someone knocked on the door.
He straightened, tension coiling through him.
It was late, too late for a casual visitor, and Zane would have given him a heads-up if he was on his way over.
A check of the wards showed a steady, uninterrupted green, not the angry red indicating a threat.
Like many Keys, he understood the value of a security system that was both proactive and reactive.
Wary, he reached for his magic and the invisible weave of spells that protected his home. He got to the door and, with one hand on the handle, pressed his other to the door’s surface. His magic hummed back, steady and quiet.
He checked the Judas hole and jerked back with a hiss. “Are you fucking kidding me?” He undid the locks, yanked the door open, and then kept his body solidly in the opening. “What the hell are you doing here?”
The man on the other side was an older version of him, just a bit wirier and more worn down. There was gray in his hair and a hint of hollowness in his dark eyes. “Hello, son.”
“Why are you here, Dad?”
Dylan Beck took no offense at the less-than-welcoming question. “Because if I called, you wouldn’t pick up.”
Grayson refused to deny or apologize. “I’m busy.”
“So I’ve heard,” Dylan deadpanned.
Grayson narrowed his eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Can I come in?” his father asked.
Grayson folded his arms. “It’s almost eleven.”
“And I’ve been waiting since nine.”
Grayson clenched his teeth, locking down the growl that wanted to escape. His father wasn’t going away. “Fine.” He dropped his arms, stepped back, and waved the man in. As Dylan crossed the threshold, Grayson said, “I’ve got company, so make this quick.”
He closed the door then stalked down the short hall to find his dad standing at the counter bar, his attention shifting from the books on the stool to Grayson.
Grayson fought the urge to snatch up the books.
Instead, he went to his bedroom door, through which he could still hear Cass’s shower, pulled it closed, and retraced his steps.
He stopped a few feet from his dad, who had used a finger to lift the cover on the top book.
Dylan stared down at the pages. “Why are you messing with Cabal spells?”
“I’m a Key. Spells are my business.”
The older man let the cover go and studied him, his expression hard and his eyes dark as a muscle jumped in his clean-shaven jaw.
Years before, that look would have made Grayson flinch. Now he didn’t give the first damn what his dad saw. He just wanted him gone. He stood with his arms folded and waited for the old man to start talking. It didn’t take long.
“I got an unexpected call today.”
Oh, for fuck’s sake. Like I’m a kid or something. Grayson blew out a frustrated breath. “Burton.”
Dylan’s gaze went to the closed door and then came back. “What are you doing working with the Ambroses, boy?” he asked grimly.
Grayson narrowed his eyes as his temper started to churn, but he held it in check. “First, I’m not a damn boy. Second, none of your business.”
“It is my business when it appears my son is following his mother’s footsteps.”
“Fuck you, Dad.”
The words were out before Grayson could stop them—not that he tried.
Oh, hell no. He was too pissed to see straight, and after everything that had happened that day, he was just done.
“You and I both know it was your work that killed Mom, not the other way around.” He ignored his father’s flinch.
“I don’t need you coming in here and shoving your fucked-up guilt in my face. ”
For a moment, his father’s mask slipped, revealing the scar honed by the pitiless claws of regret and heartache. Then he blinked, and it was gone. “That’s not what I’m doing.”
“Isn’t it?” Grayson didn’t give him a chance to respond. He’d heard it all before. Instead, he stuck to the important stuff. “Why the hell is Burton calling you, anyway?”
Dylan rested a hand on the back of the barstool. “He’s a friend. He called—asked if I was in town and wanted to get together for dinner at some point. I agreed, and then he mentioned running into you and where. Imagine my surprise when he shared you were with the oldest Ambrose.”
“Alcmene,” Grayson corrected.
“Excuse me?”
“Cass prefers Alcmene over Ambrose.”
“Cass, is it?” He looked at the bedroom then back at Grayson. “Just how serious is this?”
“Again, none of your business.”
Dylan threw up his hands in frustration. “That’s where you’re wrong. Not only is my son walking into a pit of vipers, but based on this”—he motioned to the books—“you’re sliding back into shady shit, and you think I’m going to ignore it?”
Grayson ignored the whispered echo of guilt that had been birthed years earlier. “It’s what you do best, isn’t it?” he drawled.
Hurt flashed over Dylan’s face, but his spine snapped straight as he pinned his son with a narrow-eyed glare. “Are you serious with that?”
“Yeah, Dad, I am.” Realizing he couldn’t hear the shower anymore, Grayson decided it was time to move the old man along. He dropped his arms, stalked to his father, and lowered his voice. “You shared your opinion, for what it’s worth. Now, leave.”
“No,” Dylan shot back. “Not until—” He broke off as the bedroom door opened, and the unmistakable tension swirling between them leveled up.
Grayson turned his head to see Cass in the doorway, her wet hair in a sloppy bun, wearing one of his shirts and her leggings. She adjusted her glasses and turned her attention to Dylan. Whatever she saw there made her stiffen, drop her hand, and angle her chin warily.
“Is everything okay out here?” she asked.
He shot his father a dark look of warning. Then he went to Cass and set his hands on her hips. “It’s fine.”
“Liar,” she said softly, holding his gaze. “Introduce me?”
He ground his teeth. That was the last damn thing he wanted to do.
Her fingers brushed along his clenched jaw as if willing away the tension. “Please.”
Unable to deny her, he relented with a terse nod. He turned, keeping her close to his side. “Cass, this my father, Dylan Beck.”
“Hi.” Whether it was because Grayson kept his arm around her waist to hold her back or because his dad was glaring at her, Cass didn’t offer her hand but gave a small wave.
“Evening.” At least the old man was polite enough to offer a tight nod. Unfortunately, he couldn’t have been more obvious about the fact that he didn’t welcome Cass’s presence.
“I’ll just grab my tea and leave you two alone,” Cass said uncomfortably.
Grayson felt his temper start to boil over. She started to move to the kitchen, but Grayson tightened his hold in silent demand, and she stilled. He glared at his father. “He was just leaving. Right, Dad?” he said coldly.
A flare of frustration washed through Dylan’s face as he glared right back. “I guess I am, but this conversation isn’t finished.”
Grayson curled his lip, not in a smile but in warning. “Yes, it is.”
For a long moment, the two stared at each, but Grayson knew he wouldn’t blink first. Sure enough, it was Dylan who turned and gave Cass something close to a polite smile. “Apologies on dropping in so late. I’ll leave you two to it and see myself out.” He turned and strode out.