Chapter Thirty-One Saylor
Chapter Thirty-One
Saylor
The drive from the Cavern takes us inland, winding through dense forest where the trees grow so thick our headlights barely
penetrate the darkness between their trunks. I watch Blue navigate the narrow road like he could drive it blindfolded.
“So where exactly are we going?” I ask, still tasting Axton’s incredible food in my mind.
“To see an old friend. Someone who knows her way around a body.” Blue takes a sharp turn onto an even narrower road. “Like
Axton, Vespera Nightshade also runs a . . . thorough disposal operation. Plus, she’s got skills you might find useful.”
The road ends at a sprawling Victorian house that someone clearly built during a serious obsession with turrets and gingerbread
trim. Deep burgundy siding contrasts with bone-white shutters, and every window sports elaborate carved frames that probably
took months to complete. A wraparound porch drips with so much decorative woodwork it looks like architectural lace. But it’s
the sign hanging beside the front door that makes me laugh.
Eternal Rest Funeral Home & Cosmetic Services:
Making Your Final Impression Count
“A mortician? Really?”
“Mortician with a side business,” Blue corrects, parking beside a hearse that’s been converted into what appears to be a mobile
makeup studio. “Vespera discovered that the same skills that make someone excellent at preparing bodies for viewings also
make them phenomenal at disguise work. Now she does both.”
As we approach the front door, it swings open before Blue can knock.
The woman who emerges looks exactly like what you’d get if Tim Burton designed a funeral director and then gave her a sense of humor.
Deep brown skin with dramatic dark eye makeup, raven-black hair twisted into an elaborate updo secured with what appear to be tiny silver skulls, wearing a fitted black dress that manages to be both funeral-appropriate and fashion-forward.
But it’s her smile that catches my attention—wide, genuine, and absolutely wicked.
“Blue, you magnificent bastard,” Vespera says in a voice like silk wrapped around steel, pulling Blue into an embrace that
would be inappropriate at an actual funeral. “And this must be the infamous Miss Mitchell. The woman who’s got our boy here
breaking all his retirement rules.”
“Guilty as charged,” I say, shaking her surprisingly warm hand. “Technically, I think he’s the one corrupting me.”
Vespera throws back her head and laughs—a sound like champagne bubbles bursting. “Oh, I like her already. Come in, come in.
I was just finishing up with a client.”
The interior of the house is even more dramatically gothic than the exterior. Deep red wallpaper, antique furniture that looks
like it belongs in a vampire’s parlor, and enough candles to stock a cathedral. But what really catches my attention are the
photographs lining the hallway—before and after shots of Vespera’s work. The befores show people in various states of . . .
well, death. The afters show the same people looking like they’re simply sleeping peacefully.
“Impressive work,” I observe, pausing beside a particularly striking transformation.
“Twenty-three years in the business,” Vespera says proudly. “Working on the living is far more rewarding, I must say. Dead
people never appreciate good contouring.”
Vespera gestures toward a door marked Private in elegant script, then unlocks it with a key hanging from a chain around her
neck. The room beyond is like stepping into a completely different world.
It’s part laboratory, part workshop, and absolutely magnificent. Stainless-steel tables line one wall, equipped with drainage
systems and ventilation that clearly handle messy work. Along the opposite wall, a massive industrial incinerator hums quietly,
its door sealed with locks that look like they could stop a tank.
“Welcome to my sanctuary,” Vespera says, spreading her arms wide. “Where problems disappear and secrets go to die.”
Blue leans against one of the tables, completely at ease in this chamber of horrors. “Vespera handled Julian Crow for us last
night. Had him processed and gone before dawn.”
“Julian Crow?” Vespera perks up with professional interest. “Oh, that was delightful work. Young man, good bone structure.
Shame about the personality, but they can’t all be winners.” She glances at me with something that might be pride. “I heard
you were the one who did the actual honors. How was your first kill?”
The casual way she asks the question should probably disturb me more than it does. “Honestly? Terrible,” I say, feeling heat
creep up my neck. “I mean, he died, so mission accomplished, but I have no idea what I’m doing. I’m basically winging it and
hoping nobody notices I’m a complete amateur.”
“Ah, honesty! How refreshing.” Vespera claps her hands together with genuine delight. “Blue, darling, you’ve brought me a
protégé who actually admits she’s a work in progress. How absolutely wonderful.
“The Crow are an awful bunch,” Vespera continues, her tone shifting to something darker. “They deserve whatever’s coming to
them. Thank goodness Blue finally got some sense into that thick skull of his and left them behind.”
I stop breathing. “Wait. What?”
The room goes quiet except for the hum of the incinerator. I look between Blue and Vespera, suddenly understanding that I’ve
just learned something huge.
“You were one of them?” I ask Blue, my voice barely above a whisper. “You were a Crow?”
Blue runs a hand through his hair, messing up that perfect styling.
“Shit,” Vespera says, covering her mouth too late.
“What do you want to know?” Blue asks, already knowing what I’m going to demand.
“Everything,” I say without hesitation. “I need to know everything.”
Blue is quiet for a long moment, studying my face like he’s looking for something. Finally, he nods. “Blue Crow.”
Vespera busies herself organizing tools on one of the tables, but I can tell she’s listening to every word.
“I was in my early twenties when Brutus recruited me,” Blue continues. “Fresh out of the military, looking for purpose, to
apply the skills I’d picked up. Brutus saw potential in me that I didn’t even know I had. He convinced me I was wasting my
talents in civilian life, that I could be part of something bigger.” Blue’s hands clench into fists at his sides. “He made
it sound like an honor. Like joining the Crow was the most important thing I could ever do.”
“He was your mentor.”
“He was my father figure, my teacher, my god.” The admission comes out bitter. “For eight years, I was Blue Crow. I killed
whoever Brutus pointed me at, however he wanted it done. I thought I was part of something legendary.”
“What changed?”
Blue meets my eyes across the room. “Your father.”
Vespera has gone completely still, her usual theatrical energy replaced by focused attention.
“He said he knew there were people who needed help escaping. Said if I helped him save the innocent ones, he’d help me find
targets who actually deserved to die.”
My heart is pounding so hard I can hear it in my ears. “And you said yes.”
Blue looks at Vespera, who nods encouragingly. “Peter and I spent years working together. He’d identify people who needed
help disappearing, and I’d handle their ‘deaths’ while he got them new identities, new lives.”
“That’s . . . actually beautiful,” Vespera says softly.
“It was perfect,” Blue agrees. “Until Brutus figured out the pattern. Too many of our targets were surviving their ‘murders,’
disappearing without a trace.” His expression darkens. “When he confronted me, I had to choose. Peter or the Crow.”
“You chose Peter.”
“I chose myself,” Blue corrects. “I chose to stop being Blue Crow and just be Blue. But that meant war with Brutus, and Peter . . .”
He trails off, pain flickering across his face.
“Peter paid the price,” I finish quietly.
I’m quiet for a long moment, processing everything he’s told me.
“Blue Crow . . .” I finally say. “Doesn’t sound right.”
“It wasn’t right,” Vespera says.
Blue clears his throat, breaking the heavy weight in the room.
“Enough about the Crow. This is why I wanted to bring you here,” he says, gesturing around the room. “To meet Vespera and see the incinerator. So you’d
know where to come if things go sideways.”
“Consider me your backup plan,” Vespera adds with that wicked smile returning. “If you ever need help making problems disappear,
I’m your girl. And if you ever need a glam squad for an undercover job, well, I do that too.”
Blue pushes off from the table. “We should go. We’ve got dessert waiting at home.” His grin turns predatory. “Two Crow sitting
on ice, and I’d hate for them to spoil.”