Chapter Eleven Saylor
Chapter Eleven
Saylor
Some mornings you wake up in a four-poster bed with exquisite sheets and think, “Well, this is my life now.”
Dad would have loved this place. Not the gothic mansion part—he wasn’t really into displays of wealth—but the fact that someone
was finally taking care of me.
Except now Dad’s gone, and for the first time since I was eight years old, I’m actually considering taking his advice. Back
then it was “Let me help you with your math homework, sweetheart.” Now it’s his voice in my head saying, “Stop being so stubborn
and let someone take care of you for once.”
Blue would let me leave—I feel that in my bones. Yeah, he technically kidnapped me, but underneath all the murder and mystery,
he seems like a decent guy trying to keep his promise to a dead friend.
Jesus, toxic thinking much? “He kidnapped me but he’s probably nice” isn’t exactly the foundation for healthy decision-making.
But maybe, just this once, I’m going to listen to what Dad’s telling me from the grave. I heard his final words to Blue. Maybe
it’s time to stop insisting I can handle everything alone. Maybe it’s time to stop running and start fighting back.
I should be furious with my father. How did I not know what he really did for a living? Did he lie to me? Not exactly—I just
assumed all that talk about “consulting” and “helping people with complicated situations” meant finance or something equally
boring. Dad work. The kind of stuff that made my vision glaze over when he’d mention it over Sunday pancakes.
It’s not like I asked a lot of questions. I was a teenager focused on school and friend drama. I figured it was spreadsheets
and meetings, not whatever the hell the Crow are or places like Crowshaven or friends named Blue who do whatever it is Blue
does.
How could I have missed all of this? How did I live twenty-three years thinking my dad was just some middle-aged guy with a nine to five, when apparently he had an entire shadow life I never even suspected existed?
I guess boring dad work was never as boring as I thought.
I’m lurking outside the dining room at 7 a.m., watching Blue through the doorway as he performs what’s clearly a morning ritual.
He’s traded yesterday’s funeral suit for a charcoal sweater that fits like it was made for him, paired with dark slacks that
probably never wrinkle. His hair is damp from a shower, combed back but already starting to curl at the edges, and that blue-tinted
beard frames a mustache with deliberate rockabilly curls at the ends that somehow make him look both vintage and untouchable.
He sits alone at a table built for entertaining, reading his newspaper . . . an actual newspaper. His coffee cup is so delicate
I’m surprised it doesn’t dissolve when he touches it. Even his toast has been cut into perfect triangles and arranged with
a care most people reserve for surgery.
The man makes breakfast look uptight but sexy.
I’m still wearing yesterday’s green dress because putting on the clothes the Crow stole from my apartment feels like surrender.
The emerald fabric clings uncomfortably after a night of restless sleep, my hair has taken on a life of its own, and I’m about
to walk into that dining room and ruin his perfect morning.
I walk through the doorway, my footsteps loud against the marble. “Morning.”
Blue’s newspaper crinkles as he looks up, and for half a second his composure slips. He wasn’t expecting me. Or maybe he wasn’t
expecting me to look like a hot mess. But either way . . . Good.
“Saylor.” He starts to stand, then thinks better of it. “You’re awake early.”
“Funny thing about being kidnapped—it messes with your sleep schedule.” I drop into the chair across from him without waiting
for permission, getting my first real look at the dining room in daylight.
It’s completely different from last night’s candlelit atmosphere.
Morning sun streams through tall windows, illuminating walls lined with oil paintings of stern-faced people who probably owned this place generations ago.
The table for twenty where we had dinner last night looks even more imposing in daylight, its dark wood surface polished to mirror brightness.
Crystal glasses sparkle from an enormous chandelier overhead, and everything feels formal in a way that makes me glad I’m still in my wrinkled green dress instead of trying to live up to this level of elegance.
Wren materializes beside me with coffee and a place setting. The woman must have supernatural hearing. She pours from a silver
service, the coffee so dark it’s almost black and smelling like it could resurrect the dead. When I take my first sip, it
fuels my system like liquid electricity. The coffee hits my bloodstream immediately, which is the first decent thing that’s
happened since I woke up.
“We need to talk,” I say, setting down my cup with more force than necessary.
Blue folds his newspaper deliberately. “About?”
“About you teaching me how to kill people.”
Blue pauses with his coffee cup halfway to his lips. “Before coffee? Really?”
“You said you’d think about it. I want an answer.”
He takes a deliberate sip and sets down his cup. “I did think about it.”
“And?”
“And I think you’re serious about this, which is either impressive or terrifying.”
“Both, hopefully.” I lean forward, excitement building in my chest. “So? Will you teach me?”
Blue runs a hand through his hair, messing up that perfect styling. “You think you want revenge, but you don’t understand
what it actually costs—”
“I understand perfectly.” I point my coffee cup at him. “I understand that the Crow killed my father and got away with it.
I understand that they kidnapped me and were planning to torture me before you showed up. And I understand that you’re the
only person I’ve ever met who might actually be able to help me do something about it.”
Blue goes quiet for a long moment, studying my face like he’s looking for something. “You really think this is what you want?”
“I know it is.”
“And if I say yes? If I agree to this insanity?” He leans back in his chair. “You’ll do everything exactly the way I tell
you to do it. No improvising, no going rogue, no deciding you know better than I do.”
My heart jumps and I feel a Cheshire grin spreading across my face. “You’re actually considering this?”
“I’m considering the fact that you’re going to try to go after them with or without my help, and at least this way I can keep
you alive while you do it.” Blue picks up his coffee cup. “But we do this my way, at my speed. I’m not going to waltz you
into Crowshaven with a knife in your hand and tell you to get at it.”
“Crowshaven?”
“Where the Crow operate. About thirty miles south of here.” His expression hardens. “And before you even think about hunting
down Brutus and his A-team, you need to understand exactly how dangerous they are. Getting to them won’t be easy, but it will
happen. Just not the way you’re probably imagining.”
I can barely contain my excitement. “So you’ll do it? You’ll train me?”
“I’ll teach you how to survive long enough to get your revenge, yes. But first”—he holds up a hand before I can interrupt—“we
start small. Very small. The first thing you need to learn is just how deadly Brutus and his people can be when they’re not
distracted by other business.”
“How small are we talking?”
“I bring them to you. One by one.” His voice takes on an edge I haven’t heard before. “Going after them all at once is suicide.
But individually? That’s manageable. I’ll handle the hunting, the tracking, the logistics of separating them from the pack.
Then I’ll bring them here, like a gift, and teach you what to do next.”
“Good. Then I’ll learn to be better than they are.”
Blue studies me again, and I catch something that might be approval in his expression. “You’re serious about this.”
“Dead serious.” I grin at him. “And let me get this straight—you’re going to hunt down murderers and bring them to me like
some dark suitor offering deadly gifts? How romantic.”
“Most women prefer flowers.”
“Most women haven’t had their fathers killed by a bunch of psychopaths.” I lean back in my chair, practically bouncing with excitement. “So basically, you’ll do all the hard work and I get to be the one who actually kills them?”
“That’s . . . one way to put it.”
“Best. Teacher. Ever.”
“Then we have terms and conditions to discuss.” He folds his hands on the table. “If you’re staying here as my student instead
of my . . . guest . . . we need ground rules.”
“Naturally. Let me guess—no talking to strangers, no going out after dark, no breathing without permission?”
“I don’t like dining alone.” His tone is matter-of-fact. “Meals are more civilized with company.”
I wasn’t expecting that. “You want me to eat with you?”
“Breakfast and dinner, at minimum. Lunch if you’re around.” He spreads jam on his toast with careful attention. “It’s a large
house. Gets quiet.”
I study his face, looking for the catch. “That’s it? You want a dining companion?”
“And the third floor is off-limits.”
There’s a third floor? I think about the mansion’s towering height, the way it seemed to stretch forever when I first saw
it from the gardens. I’ve barely explored the first floor, and only my room on the second floor, and apparently there’s an
entire level above where I’m staying that I didn’t even know existed. Just how big is this place?
“Why?”
“Because it’s mine. Private.” The finality in his statement brooks no argument. “Everything else in this house you’re welcome
to explore.”
“And third?”
“You don’t leave the property without me or security. Not until you’re ready. Not until I’m sure you won’t get yourself killed
the first time you encounter a real threat.”
“For how long?”
“Until I say you’re ready.” Blue pauses and studies me. “Could be weeks. Could be months. Depends how quickly you learn.”
I consider this. The dining thing doesn’t sound terrible, and one restricted floor hardly seems unreasonable. But the confinement . . .
“I need to be able to go into town. Alone sometimes. I can’t be your prisoner while you’re training me.”
“Not until you can handle yourself.”
“Then teach me to handle myself faster.”
Blue’s mouth twitches with what might be amusement. “Eager, aren’t we?”
“I’ve been waiting five years for this chance. I’m not interested in taking it slow.”
“Too bad. Patience is the first lesson.” His voice takes on an instructional tone. “The Crow are still breathing because they’re
careful, methodical, and don’t make mistakes. If you want to beat them, you need to be all of those things and more.”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself. Just because you’re bringing me murder presents doesn’t make you my daddy.” I smirk and tease,
“Unless you want to be my daddy.” I give a playful wink.
The coffee cup halfway to Blue’s lips stops moving. For a second, I think I’ve genuinely shocked him. Then he sets it down
and covers his mouth with his hand, but I can see his shoulders shaking.
“Did I just make the big scary murderer laugh?”
“You have an interesting way of phrasing things,” he manages, still fighting a smile.
“It’s one of my many charms. Along with my stunning morning hair and my ability to make any situation awkward.”
“I’ve noticed.”
Blue stares at me for a long moment, and I can practically see him weighing the pros and cons in his head.
“You understand this isn’t going to be like the movies? No montages, no dramatic moments where everything clicks into place.
It’s going to be ugly, methodical work. And there’s a very good chance it will change you in ways you can’t come back from.”
“I’m counting on it.”
“And you understand that once we start down this path, you’ll never be the same person again?”
“Blue.” I reach across the table and put my hand over his. “I’ve been walking this path since I was eighteen years old. The only difference is now I won’t be walking it alone.”
He looks down at our joined hands, then back up at my face. Something changes in his expression—a decision being made.
I grin at him, feeling lighter than I have in years. “When do we start?”
“Patience. Remember?”
I sigh and realize I shouldn’t push it. I just got the man to agree to something that I in no way thought was possible.
“I’ve been thinking about your offer to show me around town,” I say. “I’d like to go this morning.”
Blue glances at his newspaper—something called The Grimlock Gazette with headlines about harvest festivals. This place even has its own newspaper. “I have an appointment, but . . .”
He stares at me across his perfect breakfast spread. I can practically hear the gears turning in his head.
“Hans will drive you,” he says finally.
“Okay.”
“He stays close.”
“Define close.”
“Close enough to help if you need it. Far enough away that you can pretend he’s not there.” Blue picks up his coffee cup.
“Although Hans isn’t exactly known for his subtlety.”
I think about the giant German man who chloroformed me yesterday. “I noticed.”
“There are parts of town you should avoid—”
“Nope.” I hold up a hand. “If I’m free to explore, then I explore where I want. No banned zones, no helpful suggestions that
aren’t really suggestions.”
Blue looks like I just asked him to juggle live grenades. “Some areas can be unpredictable.”
“So can I.”
We have a staring contest across the table. I win when he sighs and reaches for his pocket watch. A pocket watch . . . but
then again . . . did I expect ordinary with this man?
“How long do you need to get ready?” he asks, checking his watch.
“Thirty minutes.” I stand up, smoothing my wrinkled dress. “I need to shower and change out of this outfit and look like someone who belongs in a small town instead of a crime scene.”
Blue nods, although he still looks like I just asked him to let me go skydiving without a parachute. “Hans will meet you out
front.”
“Perfect.” I head toward the door. “Oh, and Blue?” I pause at the doorway, suddenly feeling the weight of everything he’s
done. “Thank you. For saving me. For helping me save myself. I . . . I appreciate it.”
Something in him changes direction, the careful mask slipping just enough to show surprise. “You don’t need to thank me for
that.”
“Yes, I do.” I meet his eyes directly. “I’ll see you at dinner.”
His smile is small but genuine. “I’ll be here.”
The way he says it makes my stomach flutter, and I’m not going there right now. “Don’t get too excited. I’m terrible company
in fancy situations.”
“I’ll take my chances.”
I’m almost at the doorway when he calls after me. “Saylor?”
I turn back, and for a moment something vulnerable crosses his face.
“Don’t worry, Blue. I promise not to get murdered on my first full day here.”
“That’s not as reassuring as you think it is.”
“Wasn’t meant to be.”