Chapter 21
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
C ruising through the desert, I decided which burning questions needed answered first.
“Hit me,” he said before I got the first one out.
My stomach fluttered. Was he reading my thoughts again?
“Sorry, it’ll wear off soon,” he replied, shooting me that one-sided smile.
“Wear off? You mean you could hear everything I thought up to now?” I shouted, silently realizing he was hearing that too. I scrubbed my hands over my face like it would block his thought-reading.
“Since I licked you clean, I’ve heard everything, Tails,” he lingered on clean , which had the effect of a memory of a cat licking my arm. My arms goose-fleshed as my thoughts wandered into the past, spiraling into horrifying territory about being licked. Which he now knew. My cheeks heated.
He smirked.
“You bastard. Well then, read my mind and answer all my questions. I’ll just sit here and listen,” I said, realizing I didn’t even have to ask him that out loud. Nine hells.
He chuckled, and it was equal parts sexy and maddening. “Sure, I suspect Britannia is going to see her brother Devlyn with the family album. I’m not entirely sure why, but I think Britannia has more to do with the police showing up at Agatha’s door than I want to imagine.” His jaw clenched.
I was about to ask if Devlyn was an older brother, but of course…
“Devlyn is my stepbrother. Britannia is his biological half-sister. Britannia is actually not blood related to me. My birth father lives in Norway. Maverick and Victoria unofficially adopted me.”
Well, that explains the underwear , I thought making a huffing sound, unable to get past it.
“It doesn’t explain that, but no, I did not sleep with Britannia.
In one weak moment, we came very close, and I’m not proud of it.
She can be very manipulative and persuasive.
It was also a long time ago. She wears those pink things when she wants to piss me off.
I suspect she packed them for that reason. ”
The lingering silence sent a barrage of cringing silent thoughts and pictures through my head.
His fingers tightened on the steering wheel. “Get over it. She’s not a blood relation, and I’ve regretted it every day since. You’ll have to tell me more about the elevator man and the dumpster sex sometime.” He glanced over with that vexing grin.
I smacked him, knowing full well it wasn’t okay to hit him, but damn, some things should never be said out loud, like dumpster and sex together. I’d never even told anyone else about that or the—Oh fuck me, now he knew that too.
He laughed. The bastard frickin’ laughed. It hadn’t been my fault the police had found my high school ex-boyfriend and I trussed up to the base of a flagpole like naked rutting chickens. This was why I never touched drugs. “Back to the important questions,” I hissed.
He grinned. “The ring will be in the inner plane where Agatha was. Our only hope of retrieving it or repairing it now is Devlyn. Britannia knows that too, which is why I expect she’s on the way there.”
“Hang on, you are sounding like Britannia is an enemy. I mean, sure, she’s my enemy, but when did she become yours?”
“When she killed Agatha.”
The echoing silence was as deep as the horror of that sinking in. Any way I looked at it, it made no sense. “How could she even?” I finally stammered.
“You are missing pieces of the story. Let me go back.”
By the time he’d finished, I had a better idea of how deep in shit I was.
There were miles of stinking piles above my head.
“Okay, so the guys who wish to eradicate your kind are working with Britannia to get the ring. They want the ring because it will allow them to change the first battle outcome, which literally will rewrite the history of your race. Which is friggin’ unbelievable, but I’m going with it.
What I don’t get is why Britannia wants that.
She’s one of you, right? Wouldn’t that end her too? ”
“They’ve made her a promise to keep her ancestor alive, and since she’s half-blood too, she would be empowered by the new timeline.”
“Hang on, how closely related are the Grigores-agent people to your kind?” I dragged a hand through my hair, pulling it back as I contemplated the big picture.
“There is a lot of intermixing in history and the Eim and Grigores do not have mortal rules. They walk very separate paths.” He slid his hand down the wheel, his fingers curling.
“You mean like they’re gods?”
“Created or come from another level of existence to this plane. Whatever way you can satisfy your desire for an explanation.”
“I don’t understand. Why would Britannia want to kill off her current family?”
“Because she is displeased with how Father has treated her. The Grigores are seductive. They seek to change the order of our evolution, and they have promised her immortality, eternal youth, and massive power.”
“So she’s a brat. But they aren’t going to give her any of that, right?”
“I don’t know, possibly, but if Britannia wins, then I won’t know because I’ll no longer be here to find out.
She can be a child at times. It’s not entirely her fault.
Our parents have done everything for us, and when she finally decided to do things herself, she made mistakes.
” He grimaced and dusted his jacket sleeve.
“Like hooking up with Gentry?”
“There have been a string of lovers, but she fell harder for him than the others.”
“And before him?”
“Since she, Devlyn, Caledonia, and I were schooled at home, Britannia didn’t have a lot of exposure to humans growing up. We didn’t even really care much about the outside world until we became teenagers. Then our interests changed, and we grew apart.”
This explained so much. “But if Devlyn is Britannia’s brother, then why would he help you?”
“Because I can give him what he wants most. His boyfriend back.” Wald swallowed like he was dreading something.
“Back?” I asked as time seemed to slow.
“It’s my fault that Sert is in limbo.” Wald swiped at his chin.
“Well, that’s not confusing at all. How about you explain?”
He paused as if considering. “There are more rooms like Agatha’s where she worked on the ring, and Sert is currently in one of them.”
“For how long?”
“Eight years.” He flicked his hair back.
Holy crap. “Years? Why the hell would you do that to someone?”
“Because Sert is a bad influence on Devlyn, and it gave me more control over him. Call it leverage.”
“Wow, I wasn’t expecting you to be…”
“Calculating?”
“An asshole, but we can go with yours if you want to feel better about it.”
“You have no idea who I am, Harlan, or what I can do.” His voice lowered, sending my blood to ice-crystal level. A monster, literally.
He was right, but from the first moment I’d spotted him, I knew he was dangerous. “How about you tell me more about you since I know everything about your family and almost nothing about you. We have time to kill.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Open book, huh? I like it. Okay, let’s go right for the money question. What the hell are you actually afraid of? Because it’s obviously not those agent-things.”
He rubbed his chin. “I won’t say I’m not afraid of the Grigores. But what scares me, as I think that’s what you are looking for, is losing people. But I’m also not fond of clowns.”
He shifted when he said losing people, and I bet he was thinking of Agatha. But according to him she wasn’t dead. “Clowns? Ha. Wouldn’t have called that. But you mean losing people, people dying on you? Because that I get.”
“Going away. I tend to form deep connections when I get to know people.” He glanced at me, and my heart raised pom-poms.
“You do, huh? How deep? Never mind, I’ll get that answer later when you aren’t driving.” My hand twitched as I glanced at his crotch. “Okay, so what about favorite things? Movies? Favorite food? What about those books in your room?”
“Yes, I read.” He chuckled. God, I loved that sound. I pulled my hair back and stretched out my neck. It was amazing how fast I’d healed from the wound at Agatha’s, but I was still creaky.
“I have a passion for the human take on esoteric magic and hermetic philosophy. But I’m also partial to a good thriller or a slow folklore horror.”
“Huh, would not have guessed that.”
“No?”
“Darker than—oh, maybe that does makes sense.” I laughed. “What about movies? Slasher pics? Shoot-outs?”
He chuckled. “It would have to be something by Tarantino. Pick one. Although Del Toro does some nice stuff. I like his aesthetic.”
“You’re into aesthetics?” I once-over his blacks. Definite interest in detail on the jacket, and he’d picked out nice stuff for me. His bedroom had defined choices with beautiful pieces, so this shouldn’t have been a surprise.
“I know what I like. I’d ask you your favorites but well… ”
“You already know.”
“Tell me anyways. I like the sound of your voice.”
“You do?”
He nodded, and my stomach did flip-flops.
“You already know I have a thing for true crime podcasts. For books, it’s a good mystery like Agatha Christie but gritty like Tana French, anything with a femme fatale. For food, a decent grilled cheese and a chocolate malt.”
“That wasn’t all going through your head. Something about bodices ripping, scary men with masks, and cherries with bourbon?”
My cheeks heated. “Yeah, I like those too.” Damn him.
He pulled off onto the ramp just outside Barstow, California.
“Why are we stopping?” I asked, as he maneuvered to a parking spot at a diner.
“I’m hungry. Aren’t you?” he asked, reaching over to me and sending the butterflies into a dither. But instead of touching me, he opened the glove compartment and handed me a burner flip phone.
“Not really.” I sullenly took it and slid down in the seat. I wanted water and something crunchy to allay my sexual frustration, but even though I hadn’t said it out loud, I sure as hell didn’t care if he knew it. “You didn’t tell me your favorite food?” I stared at the phone.
“A succulent lamb curry.”