31. Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-One
The morning started with a text to Wesley Lake, full of exhaustion-induced typos the first time, until I went back and revised it.
I hope you are safe after the incident last night.
Wesley: I am. Thank you for checking in. Is there much damage at Avalon?
Nothing my men can’t clean up in a day.
Wesley: Good. There’s another Council meeting coming up. I’d like to invite you to attend. Graves and I will be talking about his counter legislation to combat the killings.
I’ll be there.
The killings. I scoffed as I reread his text message. I supposed speaking about them in front of an audience made fewer people realize he was the one committing them. He seemed more than willing to murder his way into a position on the Council; I was sure of it now.
At noon, another email from Owen appeared in my inbox.
The accelerant at the gala was methanol. It was mixed with copper chloride, which was what made the flames so blue. Someone was going for drama.
Of course he was. He wanted me to notice him. I cursed the involuntary shudder that licked my spine. I would not be made to fear Wesley. He’d killed Gray, and he would soon learn just how fearless I was.
No text message came from Rook. I checked my phone a hundred times to make sure I hadn’t missed it, and considered texting him first half that many.
Last night he’d toasted to surprises, which I was certain meant me—meant us—and now he was avoiding me.
Perhaps what I’d told him in his bedroom had less luster without the buzz of champagne.
Love was a distraction for those with no ambition.
Perhaps he had more ambition than I thought.
***
At lunchtime, I forced myself to eat a salad because I knew Gray would want me to. Every bite hit my stomach like it carried the full weight of my regret.
I finally texted Rook about the Council meeting, which he agreed to with one word—‘yes’—and sent nothing more.
My thumb hesitated over the buttons. I typed half a message. Deleted it. Started again.
Chess tonight?
Rook: I’ve beaten you multiple times.
I’m waiting for my moment. Afraid?
Rook: Not afraid of you.
I watched the pulse thump in my wrist and realized it was fear thrumming in my blood that had it pounding like that. He hadn’t texted me all day. It had been weeks since I hadn’t heard from him every day.
How could I bait him? How could I make him smile enough to want to see me?
How had I fucked this up so badly?
I’m this close to calling the petting zoo, Rook. I’m sending pigs instead of llamas. They’re harder to catch.
Please text me back. Please send me some scathing words to steady my heart.
Rook: I need space, Austin.
My heart crushed instead.
Is it about what I said?
Rook: It’s about the fact that you have bigger things going on. Finish what you started with Death. Then we’ll talk. You’ll see me at the Council meeting.
I spent the rest of the day pouring myself into work, like it was the only thing keeping me from collapsing.
I scouted out potential new warehouses to move what was left of my inventory.
I rearranged people on my security team to make up for Gray’s absence.
I ignored the Prague collection. I had what I needed, and I didn’t want to sit in silence, alone, without Rook’s bored chatter to fill the hours.
The day ended with my shoulders heavy with exhaustion and doubt, but there was one more thing I needed to do before I tried to sleep. I had messaged veilknight in the morning asking to chat late that night. I had a question, a thorn in my side since Gray’s death.
veilknight has joined the chat
j-aust13: Something happened to me.
veilknight: You’ll have to be more specific.
j-aust13: I predicted someone’s death.
veilknight: Was it the first time?
j-aust13: Yes. You said you’re an expert. Why the fuck is this happening to me?
veilknight: If you spend enough time looking for death, you’ll find it. Maybe you should turn your attention elsewhere before it happens again.
I hadn’t considered that it might not be a onetime phenomenon. I stretched my frigid fingers against the keys.
j-aust13: I can’t. I’m too close. I have the grimoire and the knife.
veilknight: You have the grimoire with you?
I glanced at it sitting on my bedside table, a reminder that my work was almost finished.
j-aust13: Yes, and the weapon to kill her.
veilknight: I thought you were storing the book in your warehouse.
j-aust13: I keep the important things close.
veilknight: You’re sure it’s the right ritual.
j-aust13: I translated the Italian. I’m positive.
veilknight: Who had the grimoire before you?
j-aust13: That’s confidential information. Why do you care? You’re the one who told me how to kill her.
veilknight: Because I thought you were full of shit.
j-aust13: Then you don’t know much about me.
veilknight: I know you were given a gift and you’re wasting it. If you want my advice, burn the book and get on with your lives. Before something worse happens. Death is not your enemy.
A cold sense of dread tickled the back of my neck, and I looked around my room to make sure I wasn’t being watched, even though the notion was absurd. No one but the spirits lurked around here.
j-aust13: How do you know about me?
veilknight: It’s my job to know about people who have had encounters with Death. Leave her alone.
The cold intensified. I shivered with it, staring at her words on the screen.
Leave her alone. Burn the book. Your warehouse.
I thought back to the night Gray died, to all the details of the fire I’d only picked up in passing as I’d tried to wake him.
The flames hadn’t been blue or dramatic.
They’d been orange and raging and fueled by magic, not an accelerant.
j-aust13: You burned down my warehouse.
veilknight: You were getting too close.
j-aust13: When I find out who you are, I’m going to kill you.
A final message came through before the chat ended.
veilknight: You already know who I am. Stop looking for me, Austin.