Page 5 of Saint (Demons of Foxglove Grove #3)

“He invited the whole godsdamn club.” Yejun held the champagne flute in his hand and scowled at the crowded first level of the manor. He was standing at the balcony railing that overlooked the stairwell, dressed in the tuxedo he hadn’t worn since their high school graduation. It was a little tight, but not the worst.

Unlike this party.

Lake was at his side, his usual icy mask in place. It’d be hard for others to tell, but Yejun knew the guy was every bit as pissed off right now as he was.

This was meant to be a small get together, a way for them to introduce Nix with the least amount of drama and pomp and circumstance. Instead, they were greeted by a bacchanalian affair.

All of the light orbs had been set to their dimmest setting, casting the entire place in a golden hue with shadows lurking in every possible crevice. Round tables were laid out with burgundy tablecloths and towers of alcoholic beverages, some already partially emptied. Servants moved about with golden trays of fancy hors d’oeuvres, all morsels Yejun had known the names of since he was five.

The dress code was black tie affair, yet many had also come wearing masquerade masks, as if that would do anything to help conceal their identities. Still, traditions hardly ever contained any real logic. It was all just pomp and circumstance.

“This is the Night of the Nightshade,” Yejun decided.

“Yes,” Lake agreed. “I’ve already sent a message to Juri. He’s on his way now.”

Right, because if this was the ceremony, they needed their sacrifice. Of course Lake had already concluded what was going on and planned accordingly.

Yejun thought he caught sight of his mother drifting between the dining room and the drawing-room, and he spun around to avoid being seen.

Only to come face to face with Demitrious.

“Boys,” he beamed at them like he was truly the loving father figure he liked to pretend he was, “you made it!”

“It’s not exactly the event we thought we were attending,” Lake stated, voice devoid of emotion as he turned, settling his hands in his front pockets in a mockery of casualness no one was buying. He gave a pointed glance at their surroundings. “Night of the Nightshade isn’t supposed to be for another two days.”

“Yes, well, when I found out you’d completed your mission and uprooted the hacker, the Order and I agreed it was only right to fast track things. The longer the throne sits cold, the worse it is for us all, wouldn’t you say?”

“Considering one has nothing to do with the other,” Yejun chimed in, unable to help himself, “not really.”

Demitrious frowned at him, no doubt caught off guard by the haughty disposition. He had a right to be. Especially this close to achieving everything they’d all been working for. Yejun should be on his best behavior in front of an Order member, but he couldn’t control his irritation.

They hadn’t been ready for this.

Nix hadn’t been ready.

“In another one of your moods, I see,” Demitrious ended up giving him an out, probably not wanting to fight with such a large audience around them. He turned to Lake and winked. “Artists. I was trying to have a conversation with his father earlier and I swear he spaced out several times.”

Yejun would stand up for his dad except…that sounded about right. He couldn’t even recall the last time he’d had a talk with his dad that had lasted longer than five minutes. Unless, of course, the lectures about how he’s wasting his potential and embarrassing the family counted. Those could drag on for near an hour if he wasn’t rescued by either West or Lake early enough.

“We’ve contacted our sacrifice,” Lake said, getting them back on track. “He’ll be here as soon as he’s able. Since we didn’t have any notice, it didn’t occur to us to bring them along.”

“Pardon?” Demitrious’s brow furrowed. “I thought you said Phoenix Monroe would be accompanying you?”

“He did. But he isn’t our sacrifice.”

He blinked at them, completely caught off guard.

Yejun almost smirked. See how he liked it. Prick. Instead, he sipped at his beverage to hide his partial smile, catching sight of a group of three younger teens eyeing him from the entranceway to the library a little over thirty feet away.

“What are they doing here?” he blurted, giving them a once over to be sure he’d clocked their age accurately. The Night of the Nightshade was not the type of event to bring minors to. It was early, and people hadn’t drunk nearly enough yet, but after the initiation ceremony, the orgy portion would no doubt begin and… “They look like high schoolers.”

“They’re of age,” Demetrious corrected. “They’re attending Foxglove this year as freshmen. You haven’t seen any of them around campus? What about at the Club House?”

“We don’t pay attention to people who don’t matter,” Lake replied cooly before Yejun could think of something more tactful to say. “Which is why this isn’t exactly how I’d hoped to spend my birthday, surrounded by people I couldn’t care less about.”

“I apologize, son.” Demetrious slapped a hand on Lake’s shoulder and left it there. “This seemed like the best gift, speeding up the process so you could become a full-fledged member. I was thinking the sooner it was done, the less of a chance there would be for those who are still speaking against you to have their way.”

“Oh?” Lake feigned indifference, but this was actually a topic they were all invested in.

“It’s nothing to concern yourself with,” Demitrious pulled away, “especially not now that you’ve completed your mission and we’re about to name your sacrifice. But I would be lying if I didn’t inform you that Hendrix has continued causing a stir amongst the Order. He still insists you’re too young for the throne. Fortunately, everyone is smart enough to see his true intentions, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have followers.”

Hendrix had enough coin that even filthy rich bastards like some of the Order members could be swayed if offered the right amount.

Speeding up the Night of the Nightshade wouldn’t change the date for Demon’s Passing, so, again, it didn’t really matter and wouldn’t magically stop Hendrix from being a threat. However, Yejun supposed it could help slow down his progress if he was still attempting to recruit, which he must be, considering they hadn’t been called to the Club House and told Lake had been voted out of the line of succession.

Legally, Club Essential didn’t have the authority to make that call.

But since they owned all authority on planet…

Becoming Emperor was the only way out from under their thumb. The only way the three of them could be free from their fucking families and their even more fucked up expectations.

Four of them, Yejun mentally corrected. Nix was a part of this too, even if his relationship to his parents seemed to be healthier than his and West’s.

“What’s this about a change in sacrifice,” Demitrious didn’t sound pleased. “I thought you had it all planned out.”

“That was before he became my mate,” Lake said.

“Yes, about that—”

Lake held up a palm, clearly not interested in whatever argument West’s father was about to start. His multi-slate happened to ding right after, and he checked the message. “Our sacrifice has arrived. I’ll go retrieve him.” He turned to Yejun. “Wait here for the others.”

“Yes, where is my son?” Demitrious asked, still with that same disdainful tone. It was obvious he didn’t like being shut out by Lake, but he knew better than to argue openly.

“Getting Nix a change of clothes,” Yejun replied as Lake slipped away. “We were underdressed thanks to your surprise.”

His eyes narrowed. “Is there something going on with you? You know you can always talk to me, don’t you? I think of you as one of my own, just like I do Lake and West.”

Yejun swallowed the retort, forcing an easygoing smile onto his face instead.

Demitrious wasn’t the only one who understood causing a scene in present company wasn’t wise. If he misbehaved, that would reflect poorly on the Demons as a whole, and he wouldn’t jeopardize Lake’s claim to the crown that way.

“Ah,” the older man added before Yejun could settle on what he could say. “I heard about what happened at the gallery showing. No wonder you’re in a bad mood.” He reached over and patted him on the back in a similar fashion to how he’d just touched Lake. “Cheer up. At least the bastard was caught and, from the sounds of it, he’s paid the price for messing with one of the Demons. Your parents and I are very proud of you boys for handling this case so quickly.”

He was calculating how quickly he could make it to his studio on campus after this when an even more unpleasant figure than the one before him came into view.

Great.

“Uncle Bardin.” Uncle his ass. Yejun greeted him with a saccharine sweetness, the same as he always did, ever since the old man had told him and West they should call him uncle along with Lake.

Not that he was even Lake’s uncle either. The guy was technically a cousin, through marriage, but because of his age and standing in the Order, Lake had grown up calling him uncle to be respectful. If there was one thing Hendrix had never been able to tolerate, it was disrespect.

Lake hated the fact the two of them were related, even considering there was no blood between them. The last thing any of them wanted was to go around speaking to him familiarly. And yet, here they were, doing as they were told and falling in line because disobeying the Order was social suicide.

That had him thinking about Dew and Iris, and Yejun’s mood soured even more.

“Hendrix,” Demitrious didn’t pretend to be fond of the man joining him nearly as much as Yejun had bothered to. “I wasn’t aware you’d already arrived. And your son?”

“Beck is making his rounds,” Hendrix informed, turning to Yejun with a partial smirk devoid of any sort of friendliness.

Hendrix Bardin was in his mid-sixties, with salt and pepper hair, fuchsia eyes, and alabaster skin—that was no doubt as icy to the touch. He held himself rigidly poised at all times, constantly looking down his nose at those around him, and spoke in an elegant, if underhanded, matter. On the surface, he appeared to be just another old money jackass who believed himself too good for everyone else.

On the inside, he was like that too, but a little more insidious.

Yejun was convinced Hendrix was the culprit behind the poisonings; they just needed to find proof, a task that was next to impossible given their relationship with the older man. They didn’t trust him, but he didn’t trust them any more or less either.

The hope had been that West could work his magic and discover a link between the two online, but he’d been unable to find any sort of digital trail, and then Nix had come along and complicated things…Not that that was a bad thing, since he’d also helped them root out Hendrix’s accomplice. Though, admittedly, Yejun wasn’t entirely sure how Hendrix had managed to get a hold of Dew…

Then there was also the issue of Iris supposedly having been in love with the puppet master pulling her strings…

Yejun discretely gave Hendrix a once over. Sure, he was posh in his charcoal, form-fitting suit and still in perfect shape for a man his age, but he definitely seemed far too old for someone like Iris to fall for.

Everything he’d thought he knew about her had been false, he silently reminded himself. What did he know about her tastes? Perhaps she had a daddy kink. Or maybe Hendrix had promised her something—her and Dew—to get them to side with him and be his minions. There were infinite possibilities, really, and while he needed to find answers, now, at this party, wasn’t the time or the place.

Unfortunately.

They were running out of time, even if they’d checked one obstacle off the list and “found” the “hacker”.

“I’m curious,” Hendrix said then, “how did you three manage to discover the hacker? It seems rather convenient that a dead boy ended up being the criminal you were tasked with finding.”

“What exactly are you implying?” Demitrious came to their defense before Yejun had a chance to reply. “Don’t be a sore loser, Hendrix. The rest of us on the Order didn’t even agree with your asinine test in the first place, yet now that they’ve passed it you still want to cause a stink?”

Yejun covered his chuckle by turning toward one of the waiters as they passed, setting down his empty flute and selecting a new one. West’s father was doing nothing to hide his disdain, even going so far as to raise his voice so that those around him undoubtedly overhead.

Best to leave the old geezers to it.

“Gentlemen,” Yejun lifted his glass, “if you’ll excuse me. I’m going to go check on the others.” He didn’t wait to be dismissed, taking his chance to escape by quickly slipping between a small group of members passing by.

He passed through them and then kept going, turning to head for the archway leading into the library, mostly to escape the gazes of Demitrious and Hendrix as soon as possible.

There were few people milling about the library, mostly members who didn’t want to wait until after the sacrifice ceremony to…get to the good stuff, so to speak. Yejun passed by a couple older than the men he’d just left making out in a corner, and then turned to encounter a young couple sprawled out on the thin red carpet between two stacks of dark wooden bookshelves.

He didn’t disturb them, moving further, heading to the back where there was a large window seat he used to escape to whenever he’d been forced to attend a formal event here as a child. Even then, Yejun had never gone anywhere without his sketchbook and a few tools, so he’d slip away at his earliest convenience and escape here to the quiet and comforting smell of faded paper and burned ashes from the fireplace. Typically, he’d sketch until West or Lake—or both—came for him.

Irritation was coiling in his gut, and he was already planning all the ways he could remove someone if he found they were in his seat once he got there, beginning with the polite approach and ending in violence. Fortunately, when he turned the final corner, he found the window seat empty.

The seat was grand, set into the wall with built-in shelves on either side. The top was curved, though the window within it didn’t follow the same pattern and was rectangular. Yejun settled onto the thick crimson cushion and debated whether or not he wanted to lie down, opting instead to stretch out his legs and lean back. The cool touch of the glass against the width of his shoulders had him sighing, eyes drifting shut.

He could hear the soft crackling of the fireplace even though it was four rows away to the far left. Mixed with it was the occasional moan and gasp, but that didn’t bother him much. Soon, they’d slip into their winter season, and he could already feel the chill from outside seep through. It surrounded him almost tenderly, coaxing all of those tumultuous emotions out.

Typically, Yejun poured his feelings into his art. That was how he processed things, expelled his issues, and kept his carefree disposition in front of the rest of society. If this were the party they’d thought they were attending, he could at least breathe easy knowing he’d have to remain for an hour, two at most, before they finished dinner and could go.

Getting away from the Night of the Nightshade wasn’t as simple.

Unlike Demon’s Passing, which was also coming up, the Night of the Nightshade was an event exclusive to the Essentials but teased to the members of Enigma. Taking place once every year, it was meant as a recruitment of sorts and an excuse for public displays of debauchery.

Members on the Enigma app were told about the event and offered a chance to attend. It was pitched as the grandest Enigma party, a celebration no one wanted to miss out on, but that most usually did. Only those who’d made it to the King tier were sent an actual invitation, a job usually West took care of personally. Yejun made a mental note to ask him about whether or not he’d been contacted about the King’s list in advance.

No one could access West’s files without his permission, so either Demitrious had bypassed the King tier this year—which wouldn’t go over well for any of the Bishops who’d managed to make it in—or he’d gotten names from an unsuspecting West.

Either way, West was no doubt fuming himself right now. He hated when his things were messed with in general, but more so when his father was the one behind it.

Demons Passing and Night of the Nightshade were typically intertwined. It was the event that kicked off the official season. The beginning of the end, so to speak. For them, that was a good thing. The end they were after included Lake on the throne and the four of them freed from having to look over their shoulders or bow their heads to pricks like Demitrious and Hendrix.

But it also meant painting targets on their backs, maybe even bigger ones than they had now if they weren’t careful.

They had to handle the real issue beforehand. Find the poisoner and stop them before they had the chance to try their luck a second time. Or, third time, as it were, since they’d been successful with the late Emperor and her Royal Consort.

“Can we join you?” a soft feminine voice broke through Yejun’s peaceful state and he scowled before opening his eyes on the interruption. Two of the girls from earlier, the ones he’d deemed too young to be there, were standing less than a foot away from him, their shins practically pressed to his knees.

“No.” He wasn’t in the mood. In the past, he would have flirted a bit, maybe doublechecked they really were of age and then made a move or two. Perhaps he’d even fool around with one or both of them—he wouldn’t sleep with them, not here, and definitely not on the Night of the Nightshade though.

Everyone else partook on this night, but Lake, West, and he had long since agreed they would never. It would leave them too vulnerable. Too open to blackmail and attack. Photography and filming were strictly forbidden at this event, and the repercussions if caught were banishment from the Club and removal of all assets given or gained from its membership. Hefty punishment, but there was a keyword that they hadn’t missed.

Caught.

A person could only be punished if they were caught, and with a friend like West, they all knew better. They knew how easy it could be for someone to upload a video of them partaking in sexual acts and hide their identity. Or even for someone else—like Hendrix, for example—to convince a lower-level member to take the fall in his place.

Not worth the risk.

Sex was power here. Everyone knew that.

That was why these girls were in front of him now, breathing in his personal space, hoping they could go around bragging they’d bagged a Demon.

“Why not?” the one who’d spoken already asked, pouting out her lips. She was around five-four, petite, with pink hair. Her friend was a bit chubbier, cute, with freckles and sharp golden eyes that clearly held some intellect behind them. Their masks dangled from their fingers, making it obvious they’d removed them in the hopes he’d fall for their faces.

They were attractive.

But they were no Nix Monroe.

“We’re good listeners,” the golden-eyed one chimed in, boldly reaching out to place a delicate hand on his left knee. “You seem troubled. We can keep you company.”

Had Yejun just thought she was smart?

Yeah. No.

“You can confide in us,” the pink-haired one jumped in and nodded.

Yejun opened his mouth to tell them both to get lost before he broke their fingers, but then movement behind them caught his attention and he ended up sucking in a breath instead. He straightened, lifting off the window and shoving both girls to the side quickly.

Only to realize too late how that made it look.

Like he was guilty of something he wasn’t.

“Nix.” Yejun wet his lips, explanation dying on his tongue when the Firebird’s expression remained enigmatic. Like he didn’t care at all that he might have walked in on Yejun fooling around with other people.

When he’d made statements like that before, Yejun had admittedly been hurt by them. At first, he didn’t understand why. Sleeping around and not being tied down had been what he’d wanted—or, what he’d thought he’d wanted. Hearing straight from the source that there was no jealousy, that Nix didn’t feel even the slightest bit possessive of him, had sucked.

He’d spent weeks tormented, not understanding his own feelings, only to then discover Nix’s betrayal. Pinning him down, hurting him…it hadn’t just been about Iris or Nix’s relationship to her.

Yejun had been punishing him for making him feel confusion and need. For making him want the attention of a single person badly enough he considered giving up sexual relations with others.

Had given up, actually.

“It’s not what it looks like,” he finally managed to blurt, getting to his feet, though he didn’t dare approach.

Nix was dressed in one of West’s old suits, a rose gold tux with a crisp white shirt. Flowers done in the same pink shade decorated the jacket. They might have looked ridiculous on someone else—had the one and only time West had tried the garment on and refused to wear it—but Nix pulled it off.

Especially when he tucked his hands into his front pockets, lifted his chin ever so slightly, and said in an emotionless tone, “We’ve discussed this before. Fuck whoever you want. I don’t care.”

The two girls gasped and shied away when Nix set that icy look their way.

Was he taking pointers from Lake?

Damn. Yejun would be impressed if not for the fact the whole chameleon act was being used against him .

“Are you dumb?” West, who was standing directly behind Nix, said to the girls. “Get lost.”

Yejun didn’t glance at them as they practically ran off, hoping that might earn him points and prove he’d never been interested in the first place.

Judging by the still unwavering expression on Nix’s face, it didn’t.