Chapter 33
THIRTY-THREE
Silence often speaks loudest. Don’t forget to listen.
ALISTAIR
I glance at the passenger seat from the corner of my eye as my fingers squeeze the life out of my steering wheel. Luca’s blood lingers on my tongue, spicy and electric, but the uncomfortable silence in the car suffocates my lingering pleasure.
Casanell is angry. It’s clear from the tight angle of his jaw and the focused way he watches the neighborhood careen past his window.
This part of town is nothing special, just brick and mortar in various states of decay.
Since I’ve experienced what he’s capable of creating with his own imagination and magic, I know these buildings have nothing new to offer him.
His silence doesn’t sit right with me. It’s out of place, belonging to someone far less . . . everything than Ciprian Casanell. His anger with me feels wrong too.
“Pushing you down was uncalled for,” I say, forcing the words through clenched teeth.
Ciprian scoffs. “I’m not mad about that, asshole.”
I consider that uncomfortable statement and decide to ignore it and change the subject instead. “The dossier is coming along,” I tell him. “I’ve compiled more than a thousand pages of data so far.”
A grunt is the only response I get.
He’s refusing to play along. From a consummate pretender, it’s especially annoying.
To punish him or myself or the bloody both of us at once, I slow the car to a crawl. Fifteen miles per hour. Twelve. Eight. How slowly can I go before he mentions it?
I drum my fingers against the wheel, my agitation growing.
Ciprian talks to everyone else, making jokes and saying any number of things he doesn’t mean. He’ll say anything to smooth a conversation along, yet ten minutes in the car with me isn’t worth the effort it takes to be civil?
He reaches for the handle. “I can fucking walk.”
Hissing, I lock the doors, punch the gas, and take the next left. Unfortunately for Ciprian, it’s in the opposite direction of where he left his car.
Turning his head slowly, he looks at me. “What is this, Alistair?”
I open my mouth only to close it again, because I don’t know why I’m fucking doing this. It’s pointless and petty, but I can’t stop. “I’ve gathered a lot of information for Sheena—”
“Shut up,” Ciprian snarls. “You don’t get to talk about her. Sheena nearly died for that stupid tan you’re sporting. She may consider you a friend now, but I haven’t forgotten that you were willing to use her safety as a bargaining chip. I won’t. Not ever.”
There it is—the loyalty I once suspected he didn’t have. A curious craving stirs in me, the same way it did when I first observed Luca and Celine’s obvious care for one another. Why can’t I have it? Is it cursed fate or my own missteps?
I clear my throat, the burn I lived with for weeks nonexistent after my Luca-flavored cocktails. “I did that for Celine,” I bite back. “But I never would have hurt Sheena.”
“You wouldn’t hurt her yourself, that would be too honest.” Ciprian laughs. Like pellets of ice bombarding my skin, there’s no humor in it. “You would just out her as a djinn to someone who would do the job for you. You never have to get your hands dirty that way . . . right, Ali?”
Ciprian’s slumped form floods my mind, his face swollen beyond recognition from the beating he took. A beating I saved him from. “Are we talking about Sheena or you?”
Instead of falling for the bait, he looks out the window again. I might think he didn’t care if it wasn’t for the bone-white gleam of his knuckles against the handle of the passenger door.
“This may be a foreign concept to you, Alistair, but one day you’ll have people whose pain hurts you more than your own.”
I’d rather he punch me in the face. Of all the sanctimonious, hypocritical things he could say to me . . . Wrenching the steering wheel to the right, I head toward the Mouth of Hell, fed up with his bullshit.
“You’re in love with Sheena. Admit it,” I hiss.
Ciprian glances at me and scoffs. “I pity you, honestly.”
“Don’t,” I snarl, incensed—why does it feel like I’m the one losing this argument?
“Have you ever had a real friend?” he demands. “Or would that be a waste of your valuable time?”
The scent of him. His blood pumping through his veins . . . Even well-fed, I’m teetering on the edge of my control. How could I add Ciprian to my blood circle? Why would the gods be so cruel? We aren’t compatible by any definition of the word.
I slam on the brakes and breathe through my mouth, the sleek lines of his expensive SUV glowing yellow from my headlights. Gritting my teeth, I unlock the doors, wishing he were miles away.
He won’t stay. Why did he bother coming back at all?
Ciprian climbs angrily from my car, his fingers curled around the metal edge of the door as he braces to slam it in my face. Like two pieces of flint colliding, our eyes lock, creating a spark that burns bright, then falls forgotten to the cracked pavement.
It’s pointless. There’s nothing left to burn. Our bridge is ash beneath our feet.
“I have friends, Casanell,” I say softly. “You’re just not one of them.”
He closes the door carefully—as if we didn’t say terrible things to each other.
My hands shake.
I got the last word and claimed the moral high ground, so why does it feel like I lost something I couldn’t afford to lose?
It’s funny how life doesn’t stop moving when nothing makes sense.
Weeks pass. I bury myself in research. Without the sun to hold me back, I’m limitless. My mind runs thousands of simulations and hypotheticals, but I’m strangely disconnected from it all.
I drink from Celine and Luca regularly. Their blood fuels me, even while I hide the reality of the blood circle from them.
Every time I try to come clean, something holds me back.
I’m at their mercy, and it’s bad enough that I know it.
If they know it too . . . I couldn’t bear to drink from them if pity fueled the exchange.
After encountering Ciprian at the club twice, I stop going. Every time I see his smiling face, I hear the mazzikin’s voice whispering in my ear and wonder if I made a mistake. My mind refuses to rest.
It gets worse every time I meet with Sheena. She’s nothing like I expected. With no experience in our worlds—enclave or Fringes—she sees everything as new.
As I show her the realities of the Fringes—playing a bleeding-heart Robin Hood archetype I’ve never aspired to be—I feel hope.
Na?ve, embarrassingly so, but she gave me the sun.
Is it far-fetched to believe she could mend the cracks of our society that many supernaturals spend their entire lives crushed between?
I understand why Ciprian protects her.
Only a monster would have leveraged her safety against him. As the damned, blood-sucking, creature of darkness that I am, I fit the mold perfectly.
Damn me, I want to help her. Beyond the original scope of our deal. So I dig, researching night and day, deploying all my existing contacts, developing new ones, and lurking in the shadows of every seedy room within a hundred miles.
Until I find it. A smoking gun in the form of an invitation.
My chance to pay Sheena back for lifting my sun curse.
If I deliver this intel, maybe I can forget what I destroyed to secure this deal.
Except Sheena doesn’t answer her phone. My palms prickle as I dial again. No answer. Sunlight illuminates the motes of dust in the air as I glance at my open window. This can’t wait. Groaning in my empty apartment, I scroll to Ciprian’s contact.
Alistair
Where are you?
He reacts to my message with a question mark, not bothering to reply.
Pacing, I type so quickly my fingers blur. This is no time to let pride get in the way.
Alistair
Lysander is coming. To Vegas. I can’t get in touch with Sheena.
My phone rings a second later, Ciprian’s name dominating the screen. I swipe to answer. At least he’s able to overlook his grudge for long enough to have a conversation.
“Are you sure?” he demands, all business.
“I am.” I explain the invitation, nearly stumbling over my words in my hurry to get them out. An auction here in Vegas, with the worst of the worst in attendance. The product for sale? Supernatural women abducted by Lysander’s gang.
He’s going to use this event to fund his war on the enclave and gain allies while he’s at it. But if Sheena shows up and takes him down while he’s exposed, no one in this territory will have to worry about his predatory schemes ever again. And my deal with the enclave will be done.
“I’m on my way to your place,” Ciprian says. A door slams in the background, and I frown. I can’t have him here in my personal space, not after everything that’s happened.
“I’ll meet you,” I say. “Where are you?”
There’s a pause. A heavy breath. “I’m at the Fang.” Then Ciprian hangs up.
I run the two miles to the club.
Ciprian is sitting at the bar, the stage lights painting purple highlights in his blond hair. His head snaps up as soon as I come in. “She’s in an enclave meeting, that’s why she’s not answering the phone. My brother won’t pick up either.”
I grunt, watching as he calls Sheena repeatedly—like a complete lunatic—until she answers. His face twists, and he grabs me by the wrist and tows me into the storage room to get away from the club noise.
After that, it’s deceptively simple. Ciprian explains the urgent timing—tonight, while I respond to the invitation and secure a table for Sheena.
Trepidation ripples through me as I see some of the names on the attendance list. Dangerous supernaturals—the most powerful players in the world—all coming to Vegas.
I don’t want Celine or Luca anywhere near this.
Absently, I hear Ciprian end the call.
He looks at me, black eyes sharp. “I’m your plus one.”
I frown. “That wasn’t part of the plan—”
“Fuck that,” Ciprian snaps. “I’m your plus one, and if you try to fight me on this, Ali, I swear to the gods . . .” His use of my nickname takes me off guard.
I find myself nodding like an idiot. “As backup only,” I insist. “This isn’t our fight.”
A muscle in his cheek twitches. He disagrees. I brace to throw down. I can provide dozens of facts to support my argument. If he would listen to me for five minutes and stifle his urge to be a reckless—
The door opens.
Luca tosses us a friendly smile, whistling as he rifles through the crates of liquor. He pulls a bottle out, reads the label, then puts it back. Strolling to another box, he repeats the process. The silence stretches, made worse by his tuneless whistling, as Ciprian and I wait for him to leave.
“Fuck, dude,” Ciprian finally blurts. “Can I help you find it?”
The whistling cuts off, and Luca raises his eyebrows. “Am I in your way? I’m sorry about that, it’s just—oh yeah, this is my workplace. How could I be in your way?”
“You aren’t,” I say dryly. “You have, however, already checked that crate.”
Luca slaps his thighs, mischief all over his face. “Now that you mention it, I think I have what I need behind the bar. Silly me.”
“Nosy ass,” Ciprian mutters even as his lips twitch into a reluctant smile. “I can’t come to Celine’s fight tonight. Will you tell her I’m sorry?”
“Why don’t you tell me yourself?” Celine walks in and shuts the door behind her with a determined thud. “Do you have a date?”
“Unfortunately, I do.” Ciprian grabs her hand and kisses her knuckles as he looks her up and down. “But you are infinitely hotter.”
Celine frowns, then wipes the expression from her face.
“Anyone I know?” She does her best to sound bored, but lukewarm feelings aren’t her strength.
Fiery anger and chilling sadness? She’s got those down.
But pretending she doesn’t give a damn who Casanell is seeing tonight? Yeah, no one’s buying that.
“It’s Alistair,” Ciprian says, shrugging as he kisses her cheek. “The stubborn bastard finally wore me down.” Oh, for fuck’s sake.
Celine smirks and shoots Luca a triumphant look. “Pay up.”
He shakes his head. “This doesn’t count, baby. They’re hiding something.”
“Not well enough,” I say. “Our secrets are being uncovered much more easily than the elusive bottle of liquor you’re hunting.” I do my best to sound aloof, but my heart is racing. “We will meet up with you after the fight, angel.”
Celine nods, but her eyes are narrow as she searches my face.
“Where’s Malach?” Ciprian asks. “I haven’t seen him here all afternoon.”
“Someone on his team reported movement near the gateway, so he’s out hunting assassins,” Celine says, her brow furrowing. “It’s been oddly quiet since the last attack.”
A prickle of unease curls in my gut and spreads.
If there’s movement by the gateway to the celestial realm .
. . I don’t like the idea of leaving her side.
But I promised Ciprian. Torn, I look at Luca, and he nods, yellow briefly consuming the hazel of his eyes.
I can’t be in two places at once, but Luca will do whatever it takes to keep her safe.
For tonight, that will have to be enough.
A voice in my head whispers that I could lose them all.
I tell it to shut the fuck up.
Celine eyes me and sighs. “I know it’s not my business. I didn’t pry about the sun curse, and I’ve kept my mouth shut about your frantic research. You two can obviously do whatever you want—you don’t need my permission—but I feel sick right now.”
She wraps one arm around her stomach. “Can you at least tell me that you plan to be careful? I need you both to be okay. I-I won’t be able to fight tonight unless I’m sure.”
My teeth grind. Her uncertainty—I hate it. If it was up to me, I would tell her everything. I’m tired of the secrets and lies. They’re wrapped around me like a damn noose.
“Alistair is helping my best friend,” Ciprian says softly. “The one I told you about. She’s the one who lifted his sun curse. Sheena’s been in trouble for a long time, but if tonight goes as planned, she’ll be safe again and his deal with the enclave will be done.”
Celine raises her eyebrows. “But will you two be safe?”
“We won’t be on the front lines,” Ciprian says. “I’m Sheena’s backup while she acts as bait, and Alistair is her ticket in the door.”
“It doesn’t sound as simple as you’re making it out to be,” Luca says.
“Come on, have a little faith in us!” Ciprian smiles, but it’s missing his usual charm. “It will be a piece of cake.”
My stomach flips.
I wish I felt that confident. Unfortunately, I’m out of wishes.