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“I got it,” Malakai called back. “I’ll have them call you later.”

As Darien strode over to where he’d parked his car near the back of the lot, he dug around in his pockets until he found his phone. Lightning forked through the rain-bloated clouds, bathing the district of Oldtown in violet. He unlocked his phone and scrolled through his list of contacts until he found Finn’s number.

The detective answered the call on the fourth ring, picking up mid-sentence as he addressed someone else. “No, no,” Solace was saying. “Not yet. I want to look around some more.” There was a crackling sound, and then he mumbled, “Solace.”

“It’s Darien.”

A brief pause. Darien heard grass crunching underfoot. “What’s happening?”

“I have a couple of my father’s former business partners running the route tonight.” He was at his car now. The doors unlocked with a chirp.

“That’s great, but—” Another crackle. “I’m a little busy here.”

“What’s going on?” Darien got in the car. “You sound stressed.”

“No offense, but this doesn’t really concern you.”

“Yeah, no offense, but we’re kind of partners now, so why don’t you give me the gist of what’s going on?”

Another pause, and then Finn relented with a sigh that blew like wind through the speaker. “I’ve got my crew investigating some dead animals. We’ve taped off a zone near the Chalk Door where a bunch of wildlife appear to have died without cause.”

Darien was about to start the car when he froze, key halfway in the ignition. “Wait, wait, wait. The Chalk Door?”

30

“Wow,” Dallas murmured in wonderment as the penthouse in the northeastern end of the Financial District came into view, visible through the smoky glass doors of the elevator. “This place is incredible.”

As that elevator slowed to a smooth stop, she beamed up at Max, whose insides turned all fluttery at the sight of the dimples marking both of her lightly freckled cheeks.

The doors slid open. Dominic was waiting on the other side, hands in the pockets of his jeans, a big grin on his face.

“Well?” The Angel of Death’s husky voice bounced hollowly through the immaculate penthouse. “Is it everything you imagined Death’s Landing would be?”

Dallas was the first to step in, followed closely by Logan, Sabrine, Ivy, and Jack. Max was last, and he found that he couldn’t look away from Dallas’s awed expression as she tipped her head back to gaze up at the high ceiling, the tinted glass allowing tonight’s impressive sunset to flaunt itself. Now that the storm had passed, the sky was vibrant, the city washed with every shade of orange and pink. The black tile floors were struck through with veins of gold, and the walls were covered in black velvet paper with a feathery texture.

Eyes wide, mouth hanging open, Dallas said to Dominic, “It is nothing like I imagined Death’s Landing would be.”

“She was expecting cobwebs, coffins, and skulls,” Max said with a smirk. “Weren’t you, Dal?”

Ivy snickered. “If that’s what she was expecting from Death’s Landing, then I’d hate to know how people imagine Hell’s Gate.”

It was sometimes odd when they remembered their home was tied to such a dangerous reputation. People created the most outrageous scenarios in their heads about Hell’s Gate, a few of those scenarios getting tossed around so much during idle gossip that some people ended up deciding the rumors were fact. It didn’t bother Max or the others though; if it kept the morbidly curious public from wanting to find out the location of Hell’s Gate, and kept them even more afraid of the Darkslayers who lived there, it not only made their lives easier, but also solidified their hard-earned reputations.

Dallas stepped up to a console table. The glass vase that sat on one end acted like a prism in the sunset, its sharp edges separating white light into a spectrum of colors that brought life to the dark walls. “Not exactly,” Dallas said distractedly, addressing Ivy’s statement. The light burnished Dal’s hair, turning it into liquid fire. “I mean…maybe some skulls, yeah. But that’s about it.”

Jack was grinning. “He keeps those in the dungeon.”

“Well, Dom?” Ivy chirped. Eyes bright, she looked around expectantly, hands clasped below her chin. “Where’s your girlfriend?”

A look of horror crossed Dominic’s face. “Shh!” A finger shot to his lips. “She might hear you. She’s getting pretty good at learning our boring language. Pretty soon, she’s going to figure me out.” Beckoning them to follow, he started leading the way through the apartment.

“And what about you?” Ivy asked, keeping pace with Dominic as the rest of the group followed behind them. “Are you getting any better at her language, or have you thrown in the towel?”

“I’m not throwing in any towel. If she’s learning our language, I’m learning hers. It’s only fair.”

Where she was walking at Max’s side, Dallas poked her head between Ivy and Dominic, narrowly avoiding getting smacked in the cheek with one of Dominic’s wings as she said to him, “How’s that colored bird translation coming along?”

Max choked on a laugh.