Page 122 of Shrapnel

“No.” Noah tossed the empty bottle into the depths of his room. “I’m going with you.”

Elijah gripped his phone angrily. “Owen found something. Jamie wants us to meet him at the bank.”

Noah stood on wobbly legs, grateful Elijah had changed his clothes. The room wasn’t spinning too badly now. “All right, but we’re stopping for coffee on the way.”

Noah sipped his coffee. It was more sugar and milk than coffee at this point, but the effect was the same. Elijah was grumbling, fingers on the wheel as he muttered under his breath.

“He promised me no more boneheaded moves. No more going off on his own.”

It was easier to let Elijah bitch now than when he got to Jamie. According to Elijah, the service had been spotty and Jamie was talking like the phone was far away. Which wasn’t unusual for him. He had a nasty habit of leaving the phone on speaker and just walking out of the room.

“Leashes. Leashes for you both.”

Noah wasn’t sure why he was incorporated in that statement but then he looked down at his mismatched socks and thought Elijah was probably right. Could be fun.

“All he had to do was stay with Owen. That’s it. Just stay in Weaver Syndicate until I figured something out.” Elijah was getting louder, and Noah smirked behind his cup. Maybe he had a daddy kink, but there was something about Elijah’s complaining about his wayward friend that did something to him. He could picture him now, kneeling on their future lawn with a ruler to make sure all the shafts of grass were cut at the right height. Maybe if he was lucky, he’d get to see him change his oil.

“Hey, do you own any white sneakers?” Noah asked as Elijah parked the car.

Elijah furrowed his brows. “What?”

“Never mind.” Noah would buy him some.

His mood had improved considerably. That was Elijah’s power. He could just breeze into Noah’s life, and everything was ok. Jamie had once called them soulmates. He’s not sure if that’s true, but he felt like if it was at all possible, Elijah was his soulmate.

Sucking down the rest of his coffee, he tossed the empty cup into the floorboards and got out of the car. The night pressed down on them. Only the automatic streetlights were flaring to life. In the garish glare of their halogen bulbs, Elijah looked tired. Really tired. Noah felt guilty. Here he was feeling better when Elijah probably hadn’t slept in forty-eight hours. He hadn’t even asked him where he had disappeared to.

“Let’s go,” Elijah grated out, shoving into the dilapidated bank.

Noah had been there once before, but Elijah hadn’t. It took a moment for their eyes to adjust to the darkness.

“Hey, asshole!” Noah yelled, listening to his voice echo around the space.

They were standing in what was probably a waiting area. In the dark, the place smelled worse. Wet and old. Harvey had insisted on removing the dead body behind the teller’s desk, to where Noah didn’t know. He should have asked. Grant would have asked.

Before that thought could take root, he moved forward. The main bulk of their evidence had been in the vault. They stepped into the room to find that it had been cleared out. Nothing but streaks in the dust was left behind. Was this what Jamie wanted to show him?

He moved around the room, kicking at some of the wrappers. “I don’t get it.”

Elijah pulled his phone out, typing in the passcode.

A low chuckle rumbled through the room. Deep and throaty, it made the hairs on the back of Noah’s neck stand up.

A man was perched on the ledge leading into the room. Actually, Noah wasn’t positive it was a man at all. In the dark, he looked more like a gargoyle, hunched into a shape his mind couldn’t place.

The figure shifted. Teeth flashed in the dark.

“Hello, Noah.” a voice materialized from the darkness. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

Shifting shadows revealed the man. Mateo Hudson. He unfolded from his perch, slithering down the wall until he was on his feet. His lips were pulled back into a facsimile of a smile that didn’t reach his manic eyes. The whites were as bright as his teeth. He had a gas mask hanging around his neck.

Elijah grabbed a knife, but Mateo moved faster. He pointed a canister at them both.

“Not so fast pretty boy.” He flicked a cap off the end. It looked like one of those bug bombs. The kind you could buy at a hardware store. Willow had used one once. About the size of a shaving cream can, you flick the cap off and then set it up, gas released from the top and blanketed the room.

This one was different. It had been rigged almost like a weapon.

Elijah froze. “Hellfire.”