Chapter Thirty-Four
Darius
Gravel crunches beneath the tires of the black SUV as it halts before Cole's. I tell the driver to wait. My jacket straightens beneath my hands as I step out and walk toward the door.
The place is crowded, the lot filled with cars. The sign outside bears the words of commemoration, Winston Cole's photograph gazing back at me.
I did not know him. We spoke perhaps a single sentence, no more. But Ruaidhrí's reports mark him as a pillar of this town. A pillar now broken.
I don't mourn him. Mortals, immortals—it makes no difference. The wheel turns, lives end.
But Winston Cole was important to Sage. And he died because one of mine disobeyed. That wrong is for me to correct.
Ruaidhrí also mentioned the nephew—Jace Cole. I see him the moment I enter. Dark suit. Mourner's posture. A young man who once rose bright on Wall Street, only to fall, stripped of his place. The world is cruel for no reason. It has always been so.
As I advance, the crowd parts. A few low growls ripple, a flicker of yellow in hostile eyes, but no one steps forward. None dare.
Jace breaks from a conversation. His grief sharpens to a scowl the moment his gaze lands on me.
"This is a private event," he snaps without courtesy.
"I am here to offer my condolences," I answer, calm and unshaken. His hostility is expected.
"Your condolences are not welcome," he fires back.
"I understand your anger, Jace Cole." My voice remains level, heavy with certainty. "What was done was not by my order. Yet the responsibility is mine to bear."
He scoffs, bitter. "Responsibility? Should we walk into the sheriff's office so you can repeat that?"
I don't dignify the jab. Instead, I extend my offer. "I know the trajectory you once aimed for," I say. "I can place you within Hawthorn Industries. Or restore you to Wall Street, if that's your wish. Everything you lost, returned—and more."
The young coyote startles, eyes widening before he leans back and lets out a humorless chuckle.
I wait. The weight of every gaze presses in, but the room holds its silence.
"Uncle was right about this, too. Like making a deal with the devil. The devil always talks sweetest before he asks for your soul," Jace says, shaking his head, disgust cutting through his grief.
"There are no clauses. No small print. The offer is genuine," I answer, my tone even. "But I won't extend it again. Your view is adamant, even against your own benefit. Emotions like that do not go far on Wall Street." It's not a rebuke, only an assessment of character.
He scoffs, though the remark lands—I see it in the flicker of his eyes.
"Will you allow me to cover the expenses of the funeral?" I ask, measuring him.
"What do you think, Hawthorn?" Jace crosses his arms, his voice sharpening. "And if you're done making your offers, it's time for you to leave."
I incline my head, curt. "I wish you wiser decisions in the future."
I turn on my heel, the phone already vibrating in my pocket as I step out into the cool evening air.
"Ruaidhrí," I say into the receiver. "Talk to me."
"We had an attack," the púca reports. "Looks like a vampire."
"Vampire?" I stop beside the car. "I thought we had wards placed."
"We did. Should've held. Didn't. No idea how, but somebody failed."
"The attacker?" I ask.
"Whoever it was, the vampire escaped. I'm on my way to check the security footage, but I wanted to let you know, because…" He hesitates.
The pause is a warning.
"Ru?" I press.
"Darlene. She's dead, Darius. Drained dry. I'm… I'm sorry."
Darlene. The thought feels improbable.
"Keep me updated," is all I say before ending the call.
I slide into the back seat. "Darrows' house. Fast," I tell the driver.
We arrive within minutes. As I step out, the driver starts to speak.
"I'll go alone," I tell him, preempting the offer.
My strength rises and wanes with sun and moon, each cycle amplifying or softening me in rhythm with the world. I'm not at my height tonight as I was the first night I burned them, but two vampires are still within my power.
The ward is the only obstacle. Yet as I approach, there is no shimmer, no pulse of druidic magic. It has been broken.
I step through the gap and walk straight to the front door.