“Did you love her?” he finally asked.
“I barely knew her.” It had become my stock answer. A parry Terric and Dash and most other people who had asked me that very same question would not engage with.
Zay wasn’t most people.
“So you loved her.”
“I thought I did.”
“Did she love you back?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.” Then, since he waited me out, “Yes.”
“You’re going to hunt him down, aren’t you, Shame?”
I inhaled smoke, exhaled. We both knew who he was talking about: Eli.
“Yes,” I said. “You won’t want to get in my way, Zay.”
He shook his head. “Wouldn’t dream of it. But if I can be there to hold him down while you pull his lungs out of his chest, I will be.”
Terric said no one knew me better than him. I thought he might be wrong about that. Zay understood. Understood pain. Understood love. Understood vengeance. Understood me.
“Call me if you need me,” he went on. “Any day, anytime. And I’ll be at your side.” The door opened and Zay finished his cig, tossing it to the ground.
“Thanks,” I said. “But you need to take care of Allie. Of both of them. Of your family.”
“I take care of all my family, Shame,” he said, pushing off the car and walking away with that alpha swagger of his. “My family includes you.”
Terric was walking down the steps. Allie waited for Zay just inside the doorway, the light of their home framing her.
“Zay,” Terric said.
“Don’t let him forget we hate the bastard too,” Zay said.
Terric gave me a quizzical look as Zay passed him.
I just shrugged. “Fatherhood makes him sentimental.”
I heard Zayvion chuckle as he walked up the steps.
Chapter 33
I took Terric to the office because he wanted to talk to Clyde. For a guy who had been fired, he sure spent a lot of his time at his not-job. Dash promised to take him home.
We’d gotten a hit on that syringe Victor had been holding. Turns out there was only one pharmaceutical company that could manufacture the mix of chemicals it contained. And we had hopes that since Eli was using it, we could track the purchase to Eli, or the people keeping him.
More importantly, that we could track it back to where Davy was being held.
I hit a bar at noon, left before one. Ordered a beer, but only took a couple drinks off it. Eleanor sat across the table from me, still and patient, but I was restless. So I walked the streets for a while, wandering. Aimless. Then a while turned into hours, and I found myself at Victor’s place.
I stood there, hands in my pockets, staring at his front door. Imagined him opening it and telling me to come in. Walked up, pulled the key I’d had made years ago without him knowing about it, unlocked the door, and stepped in.
The late-afternoon light fell through windows. His home looked like his home, felt like his home. I walked through every room except the bedroom. Couldn’t bring myself to going back in there.
Thought about stealing one of his books, or knickknacks, or something to keep as my own before whoever was in charge of his estate vultured down on the place.
Found myself at his desk in the corner of the living room. Ran my fingers over the closed rolltop. Opened it. There were two files neatly stacked there, a fountain pen—so very Victor—and his computer.
I was surprised the police hadn’t confiscated all this. Figured Clyde had put the kibosh on that. After all, we didn’t need an investigation. We knew who killed Victor and why. The carvings on his body had been verified as Eli’s signature by several Hounds.
I flipped open the folder. Lost my breath at the picture. Blue eyes that knew you were watching her, looking at her. Red hair, pale skin. And that smile.
Dessa.
I waited until the knife stopped twisting in my heart. Blinked until the text on the page made English again.
He’d had a file on Dessa? Why hadn’t he given it to me? I took it, looked at the file beneath it. That one was on her on her brother, Thomas. I took that too.
Then I closed his desk. Eleanor hovered near a bookshelf.
“Do you want something?” I asked.
She turned to me, startled I’d spoken to her. Wow, how out of it had I been?
“Pick one. We can bring it back tomorrow.”
She nodded, chose a slim poetry volume. I pulled it out and pocketed it. And hell, since I was in a burglarizing mood, I picked up a small frame on his fireplace mantel. It was a picture of Zay, Terric, and me, back when we were lads, laughing, and a much younger Victor laughing right along with us.
Rare, that.
Mine now.
I left, locked the door behind me. Was not about to walk all the way home, so I caught the MAX to the bar where I’d left my car, removed the parking ticket from under my windshield wiper, threw it into the gutter, then drove home.
It was dark by the time I rolled up to the inn, but the place was open, busy. I tried to remember what day of the week it was. No luck. Went inside, ordered whatever the special of the day was, took it up to my room.
The ferret was sleeping in the little hammock strung at the top of the cage. I’d tried to take him down to the animal shelter, but at the last minute found myself setting up his cage in my room, doing research on what to feed him, and getting Eleanor’s promise she’d help me keep an eye on him. He was staying with me for now.
I spent some time eating and reading over the files. When I was done with that, I showered, then brought the book Eleanor had wanted to bed and turned pages for her while I smoked and thought.
I had set the picture of Victor, Terric, Zay, and me on the table by my bed and noticed something wasn’t right about the back of it.
“Hold on a sec,” I said to Eleanor. I placed the book facedown on the bed about where Eleanor’s legs would be if she were solid, and picked up the picture, tipping it to better see the back. There was something glued between the cardboard backing and the photo. I removed the backing. Three microthin flash drives no bigger than my thumbnail were stuck to the cardboard. Written on each was a name: Terric, Zayvion, and Shamus.
I pried mine free and took a closer look. Victor’s handwriting. I pushed out of bed, went into the other room, and pulled my laptop out from underneath the bills I hadn’t been paying. Took that to the couch and plugged in the flash drive.
There were two files on the drive. One labeled LIFE, the other labeled DEATH.
I hesitated, then clicked on LIFE.
The file was full of photos and some videos. I clicked on a slide show view, and lost an hour to pictures of me, my friends, my family, my schoolmates, a few from before my father had died, but most from after. Victor had created a virtual scrapbook of my life, of all the good times, and sure, some of the bad we’d been through together.
When the pictures were done, I wiped my palms over my eyes to clear the tears there. I was going to miss him for the rest of my life.
I closed out that file and clicked on the other labeled DEATH.
I figured it would be friends and family who had passed away, or maybe a will or last message he wanted me to have.
Instead it was filled with photos from surveillance cameras, mug shots, and files. Each photo had a file behind it containing a name, discipline of magic, last-known address and occupation, a list of crimes, and a Closer’s name. The documents were written by Victor, and other high-ranking members of the Authority, and they were all marked CLASSIFIED.
These were people who had raped, murdered, stolen, blackmailed, and betrayed. These were people who had used magic to do those things and more.
It was a hit list.
And Victor had left it in my hands.