Chapter Eighteen #2
“What was I supposed to think?” Grandad says. “That you three had some ridiculously complicated plan? That Zacharov was in on it too?”
I grin in the mirror. “We’re not in on anything. I forged Barron’s notebooks. Barron believes everything in those books. He has to, what with his memory loss.”
That’s what I did that last day and a half.
What I stayed up all night doing. Rewriting pages and pages of notes in handwriting easy to forge because I already knew it so well.
I constructed an entirely different life for Barron; the kind of life where he’d want to save the head of a crime family because Zacharov is Lila’s dad.
The kind of life where my brothers and I worked together for noble purposes.
The easiest lies to tell are the ones you want to be true.
Grandad frowns, and then understanding smoothes his features out into shock. “You mean he never met with Zacharov?”
I shake my head. “Nope. He just thinks he did.”
“Did you meet with Zacharov?”
“Lila wanted us to take care of things ourselves,” I say. “So, also no.”
He groans. “This is trouble heaped on top of trouble.”
I give Anton’s body a last look. Something glitters in the light. Zacharov’s diamond tie tack near Anton’s left hand. He must have taken it from his pocket.
I lean down and pick up the pin.
Zacharov is leaning against the doorway when I stand. I didn’t hear him come in. “Cassel Sharpe.” He sounds tired. “My daughter tells me that this was her idea.”
I nod my head. “It would have worked better with a real gun.”
He snorts. “Since it was her idea, I am not going to cut off your hand for touching my skin. Just tell me one thing—how long have you known you are a transformation worker?”
For a moment I open my mouth to protest. I didn’t work him; how can he be sure that I wasn’t faking? Then I remember the blowback, and me twisting on the tile floor. “Not long,” I say.
“And you knew?” Zacharov turns to Grandad.
“His mother wanted to keep it a secret until he was old enough. She was going to tell him after her release.” Grandad looks over at me. “Cassel, what you can do is very valuable to some people. I’m not saying your mother was right, but she’s a smart lady and—”
I cut him off. “I know, Grandad.”
Zacharov is watching us, like he’s weighing something in his mind. “I want to make this clear: I never agreed to let your brothers live. Either of them.”
I nod, because I can hear that he’s not done talking.
“Your grandfather’s right. You’re valuable. And now you’re mine. So long as you keep working for me, your brothers stay alive. Understand?”
I nod again.
I should tell him I don’t care. That it doesn’t matter to me if they’re dead. But I don’t. I guess it’s true; no one will ever love you like your family.
“We’re settled here,” he says. “For now. Go into the kitchen and see if someone can scare you up a clean shirt.”
Grandad pulls back on his right-hand glove. Now one of its fingers hangs as floppily as those on his left hand.
“Oh. I found—,” I say to Zacharov, holding out the Resurrection Diamond before I notice something strange. A corner of the huge rock is chipped.
Zacharov takes it from me with a tight smile. “Thank you once more, Cassel.”
I nod, trying not to let it show that I know the Resurrection Diamond can’t protect anyone. It’s worthless. It’s made of glass.
Outside the bathroom the party is still going full swing.
The noise crashes over me like a surreal wave, music and laughing and speeches loud enough to cover gunshots.
None of what’s happened—definitely not Anton being dead—seems real in the dancing light of the chandeliers or reflected in thousands of champagne bubbles.
“Cassel!” Daneca yells, running up to me. “Are you all right?”
“We were worried,” Sam says. “You were in there for too long.”
“I’m fine,” I say. “Don’t I seem fine?”
“You’re covered in blood standing in the middle of a party,” Sam says. “No, you don’t seem fine.”
“This way,” Zacharov says, pointing toward the kitchens.
“We’re coming with you,” says Daneca.
I feel drained, and my cheek is throbbing. My ribs still hurt. And I don’t see Lila anywhere.
“Yeah,” I say. “Okay.”
People nearly trip over themselves getting out of my way as I walk. I guess I really do look bad.
The kitchen looks smaller with people running around in it, carrying out trays of blini slathered in caviar, golden pastries leaking garlic butter, and tiny cakes topped with crystallized lemon.
My stomach growls, surprising me. I shouldn’t be hungry after watching another person be killed, but I’m starving.
Philip is standing in the back flanked by two burly men who appear to be restraining him. I don’t know if Lila brought him to the party or if Zacharov sent to have him escorted over from wherever she was keeping him.
When he sees me, his eyes narrow.
“You took everything from me,” he shouts. “Maura. My son. My future. My friend. You took everything.”
I guess I did.
I could tell him that I didn’t mean for it to happen.
“Sucks, doesn’t it?” I say.
He struggles against the bodyguards holding him. I’m not worried. I let Daneca steer me to the area by the pantry and sinks.
“I’m going to make you regret the day you were born,” Philip shouts to my back. I ignore him.
Lila is waiting with a bottle of vodka in one hand and a rag in the other. “Get up on the counter,” she says.
I do, pushing aside a bowl of flour and a spatula. Philip’s still yelling, but his voice seems to come from far away. I smile. “Lila, this is Daneca. I think you met Sam. They’re my friends from school.”
“Did he actually admit we’re his friends?” Sam asks, and Daneca laughs.
Lila pours some vodka onto the napkin.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the rest of my plan,” I say to Lila. “About Barron.”
“The notebooks, right? You fixed them somehow.”
When I look surprised, she smiles. “I lived with him for years, remember? I saw the notebooks. Clever.” She presses the cloth against my cheek, and I hiss. It stings like crazy.
“Ow,” I say. “You ever think you’re kind of a bully?”
Her smile goes wide. If it could, I think it would curl up at the corners. She leans close to me. “Oh, I know I am. And I know you like it.”
Sam snickers. I don’t care.
I do like it.