Page 61

“How the hell are you?”

“Surviving.”

“You sound like me.” He cracked a grin that showed off the tiny diamond embedded in his eyetooth. His gray eyes scanned the courtyard. “Sheesh, it’s still pissing out here.” He shivered. “I hate winter. Come inside, I’ll show you around.”

“Wait!” Paxton shouted, hurrying forward to wedge himself between Darien and Kylar. “I want to show him the clubhouse.”

Eugene hissed, “The secret clubhouse, Pax?”

“This is Eugene,” Kylar sighed. “My paranoid, geeky brother.”

Eugene scowled.

“This your house or Roman’s?” Darien asked. The kid didn’t pick up on the jest.

“He wishes it was his,” Kylar said. “Come on in, it’s cold as balls out here.”

Kylar led the way into the house—the really fucking impressive house—and gave him a quick but thorough tour. Roman had everything from a gym, training rooms built to withstand magic, a theater, multiple panic rooms, an indoor swimming pool, a shooting range, a wine cellar, and a rec room with a bar that had enough liquor on the shelves to last two lifetimes.

This place could easily feel like home. It reminded Darien of Hell’s Gate, but with extras bells and whistles that made Darien want to renovate. He knew exactly why Roman had decided to keep this place to himself—a spot to call his own, unsoiled by the greedy hands of his dad.

“The bedrooms are all on the second and third floors,” Kylar said, voice echoing as they strolled through the humid pool room. “That’s a sauna.” He pointed at a wooden door. “And that one’s a steam room.” He pointed again.

Darien snorted. “A sauna and a steam room? Un-fucking-real.”

“Roman’s nothing if not ostentatious.”

They rounded the swimming pool, passing a bubbling hot tub, a rushing waterfall that kept the water in the pool moving, and a line of stone rain-showers.

Darien whistled. “Impressive.”

“Now can I show you the clubhouse?” Pax said as they neared the frosted glass doors that led into the house.

“Now you can show me the clubhouse,” Darien said. “Get going.”

Paxton hurried ahead with a skip in his step. Out the pool room doors, up the stairs, past the spacious living room and kitchen, all the way to a split staircase by the front doors—another feature that reminded Darien of home. They went up to the third floor and down the hallway, where Paxton stopped underneath a latch in the ceiling.

“I’m too short,” Paxton said, gazing up at the latch. “I usually use a chair.” He eyed Darien. “But you’ll do.”

Darien reached up and opened the latch; even at his height, he could barely reach it. “You said you use a chair or three?”

Paxton laughed.

A folding ladder swung down, and Paxton climbed it into the attic with wet socks. Eugene followed, muttering to Paxton again about how the clubhouse was supposed to be top secret.

Darien gave Kylar an amused look. “This is hilarious.”

Kylar smirked. “You’re telling me. I wish my childhood was half as cool.” Neither of them would mention that Paxton and Eugene’s childhood managed to be this cool because they had older siblings who shielded them from their asshole fathers.

They followed the kids into the attic—the clubhouse. Rows of arched windows kept the place from feeling dark and claustrophobic, and there was a television mounted under a peak in the ceiling, a collection of worn furniture spread around it. There were racks filled with movies and board games, and a big round table with a chess set shoved to one corner. Cryptic Crypts was set up mid-game, tiny figurines and cards spread across the board. All the kids were playing that one nowadays.

“Well?” Paxton grinned. “What d’you think?”

“I think I’m going to have to move in,” Darien said.

Paxton pointed at the larger sofa. “That one’s a pull-out.”

“I don’t pull out.”