Chapter 13
GRIFFIN
By some miracle, Julian actually managed to find a parking spot not too far from Bradley’s apartment.
Fair enough that farther away could have been better—what if Williams’s people had followed us?
What if they found us? But I was willing to let Julian’s rust heap take its chances.
Probably for the best to take it off the road, anyway. Safer that way.
“Why are we hiding out in this decrepit shithole?” Brigette hissed. “Wasn’t there anywhere else?”
I chuckled nervously as I ushered her down the sidewalk and through the entrance. “Be nice now, Brigette. It’s not decrepit. It’s vintage. Or heritage. Something.”
“Hey,” Bradley said meekly. “We’ve all had a rough day. Do you have to poke fun at my place?”
“Beggars can’t be choosers, Brigette,” Elaine said crisply. “I know that fight took a lot out of us, but there’s no need to be uncivil about my brother’s lodgings, even if they do look liable to collapse at any moment.”
The elevator dinged. Bradley rolled his eyes as he rummaged through his pockets for his keys. “Listen, I know this has been a traumatic experience for everyone, but—”
His words caught in his throat as he pushed his apartment door open. Huh. Speaking of traumatic experiences.
Julian frowned at the chaos. “I mean this in the nicest way possible. What the fuck happened while we were gone?”
Bradley’s apartment had been ransacked.
“Oh my god.” Bradley clutched at his hair like he was going to rip it out, his glasses almost flying off his face. “My apartment! My research! My work!”
I followed him as he stormed into the apartment, intending to tell him to calm down, fully aware that doing so generally had the opposite effect. Instead I stood in the middle of the living room as Hurricane Bradley whirled around me, leaving the apartment in greater devastation than before.
Fucking JA Williams had sent his goons to practically turn the place inside out. I couldn’t decide whether this was meant to intimidate us or to retrieve the manuscript we’d stolen from the Vault. Probably both.
I scratched irritably at the back of my neck. As much of a pain in my ass as Nicoletta could be, she was absolutely right. Our actions had consequences. Wealthy men didn’t like it when people took their things.
“Listen, we can help you look,” I said limply, too soft for Bradley to hear, not at all convinced we’d find anything.
The confidence had drained out through the soles of my feet.
Whatever Williams’s goons had come for… considering the state of the apartment, they’d definitely found what they wanted.
Kicking over Bradley’s stuff was just a fun bonus.
Brigette had found her way to the sofa, sitting on the edge of it with a blank, exhausted look on her face.
The clatter of cupboards in the kitchen meant that Julian was looking for something hard to drink.
I didn’t blame the guy. Elaine, however, was spinning in a slow circle as she dug through her pockets.
Deep. Like, way too deep. So deep that she was definitely coming close to ripping something open. I frowned.
“What in the world are you doing?” I tilted my head toward Bradley. “Say something to your brother. He’s freaking out.”
“You say something,” she said, frowning back. “I’m busy with—ah, there it is!”
The triumph in Elaine’s voice almost threw me off from the fact that she was now elbow deep in her jacket pocket. I blinked hard, wondering where the rest of her arm had gone.
“Don’t just stand there. Help me out. Here. Hold this end.”
Shaking my head in disbelief, I grabbed onto the edge of her jacket and held tight. Very tempting to look under it so I could figure out the secret behind her bizarre impromptu magic show. But with one final tug, she pulled her arm out of her jacket pocket—and with it, the missing manuscript.
“Tada,” she sang, waving the sheaf of ancient papers like she’d just pulled a rabbit out of a hat.
Bradley’s legs went to jelly. I rushed to hold him up as he sank to his knees, exhaling in frustration, despair, relief.
“Elaine Merryweather Brooks!” he shouted. “What is wrong with you? You couldn’t have told me you had that thing stashed in a pocket dimension from the start? Also, you’re bleeding!”
She shrugged. “I thought you might enjoy the surprise. And don’t worry, I’m fine. I’ll find a bandage before I bleed all over your pristine… oh, right. Never mind.”
Bradley sputtered. His fingers bent into a claw, his hand twisting jerkily at the wrist, like he couldn’t decide between clutching at his chest or throttling his sister.
I carefully prised the manuscript out of Elaine’s grasp, then handed it to Bradley, who accepted it and hugged it to his torso like a teddy bear.
I helped him to the couch, resting him against Brigette for balance, then patted him on the head.
“I’ll just go and fix you a… cup of tea?” I took a guess at what would be most reassuring, relieved when Bradley nodded.
Hopefully I could find at least one unbroken mug.
“Make me one, too,” Brigette grumbled, pulling out her own sheaf of moldering paper. “No, make it a coffee. It’s going to be a long night.”
Two mugs it was, then. But what was that stack of parchment in her hand? And why did Bradley suddenly look so excited to see it?
“What is that?” I asked, nodding meaningfully at the paper.
Brigette smirked. “There was something else in Kane Smith’s safe. We didn’t exactly walk out empty-handed.”
“These are incredible,” Bradley said, looking over the documents with all the reverence of an archaeologist. “These are—Brigette. We need to translate these. Now.”
Brigette sniffed, somehow looking down her nose at me while sitting down. “Uh, Griffin? Maybe you could get started on that coffee I asked for? There’s a good man.”
I grumbled under my breath but joined Julian dutifully in the kitchen.
It was time for the brains to do some braining, and if it meant stopping the Hive and JA Williams—if it meant never having to look at crime scene photos of mutilated innocents again—then I could swallow my pride and make up a pot of terrible coffee. It was what Brigette deserved.
I stepped over a toppled appliance—some sort of blender thing for smoothies—making a mental note to pick it up later. Julian was grumbling under his breath too, loud enough for me to hear now.
“Doesn’t this kid keep anything to drink around here? What does he do to unwind?”
“Read a book, probably. I don’t think he’s much for drinking. I know he’s okay with wine at dinner, but I’m not sure he keeps any at home.”
I instinctively reached for the drawer where Bradley kept his tea, its contents mostly unmolested by some miracle. I stopped in the middle of reaching for the kettle when I realized Julian was staring at me.
“What?” I growled. That look on his face. I could tell something was coming.
“You’re awfully familiar with the kid and where he keeps his preferred nerdy beverages. Getting pretty close to a client, are we, Griffin Gallows?”
“Keep it down,” I hissed. “And this isn’t about me being too familiar. I’m just, you know, good at paying attention to my clients’ needs and preferences. That’s a good quality to have.”
“Right,” Julian said, pulling the fridge open, his bright teeth gleaming even whiter in its crisp, cool glow. “I’m sure you’d know all about his preferences. And I’m sure you’re quite excellent at, ah, filling all his needs. Sorry, I meant fulfilling. Slip of the tongue.”
He licked his lips. I could have punched Julian right in his smug mug, but I had other mugs to attend to. Coffee and tea for the bookworms. I wagged a finger in Julian’s face.
“Not a word about this to anybody. Not that you even know what the fuck you’re talking about.”
He leered straight into my face as he triumphantly pulled out a brown glass bottle.
In one smooth motion, he somehow snapped the bottle cap off with the pommel of his sheathed sword.
It would have been cool if he wasn’t being such a prick about everything.
Julian took one long pull of his ill-gotten reward, then made a face.
“Ugh. This is root beer.”
“Serves you right.” I turned to put the kettle on, then decided to throw in one last dig. “Ass.”
The coffee might have just been an excuse to dismiss me so that the grown-ups could actually talk about the occult.
By the time I came back with two steaming mugs, Brigette and Bradley were already engaged in lively and animated conversation, as if we hadn’t just dragged ourselves through an exhausting fight.
They still accepted their drinks, though. Brigette nodded as she set hers aside. Bradley cupped his hands around his tea as if the mere act of holding the mug brought him warmth. I didn’t miss how he took the time to give me the tiniest smile of gratitude. Something in my chest made a somersault.
Bradley was never more alive than when he was so immersed in his work.
Finally, an opportunity for his studies to be taken seriously, and here he was conducting a whole lecture for someone who was supposed to be his rival.
It must have been so satisfying, earning the respect and academic attention he deserved.
“This right here,” Brigette said, jabbing a finger at the documents she’d retrieved from Kane’s shop. “These glyphs. Do you see how that matches up with the manuscript?”
Bradley nodded so quickly I thought the glasses might fly off his face yet again.
“I knew I recognized those symbols. I think if we match up enough of these runes, we’ll be able to translate more of the manuscript.
” He turned to me, eyes as huge as saucers, sparkling with excitement.
“It’s like a key, Griffin. A cipher. I think we might have cracked the code. ”