Page 23

Calisto

Cade had never shouted at me before, never mind work himself up into such an apoplexy that he went red in the face. If you’d asked me previously how I might have reacted to my boss showing his ire toward me in such an unrestrained manner, I probably would have claimed I’d be apologetic to the nth degree and would do anything to douse the fire. Today, though, I wasn’t doing much except enduring it and waiting for him to run out of steam.

Why was I suddenly so brave? I had a feeling that was largely due to the man who’d positioned himself at my back—me sitting, him standing—close enough his hipbone pressed into my shoulder in a constant reminder that I wasn’t alone, that he was there for me. I made an effort to stop thinking about Asher and to at least pretend Cade’s words were having some effect on me.

“…trying our absolute best to keep you safe and out of O’Reilly’s clutches. But you don’t seem willing to cooperate. First, with all the secrets… relevant secrets to what’s going on, I might add. And then by taking yourself out of that safe place and demanding you come here. A building you already know isn’t safe. What if the cab driver had been working for O’Reilly? He could have driven you straight to her. You and Asher. It’s one thing to put yourself in danger, and quite another to put someone else in it. All you had to do was stay put. But, oh no, you couldn’t do that because you were bored.”

I opened my mouth to deny that accusation. At no point had I said I was bored. There was a world of difference between bored and stir crazy, and I felt the distinction was important. I didn’t have time to argue before Cade rounded on Asher.

“And as for you…”

“What about me?” Asher said calmly. It was obvious this was nothing new for him, that he’d seen Cade work himself up into a frenzy on previous occasions. I made a mental note to ask him about it once we were on our own. Baxter, meanwhile, had positioned himself by the window, amused by the whole thing; he even chuckled at something Cade said.

Cade shook his head. “I can’t believe you let him come here. If it’d been anyone else in the world, you would have put your foot down.”

Asher laughed. “’Let him? Put my foot down?’ Short of tying him up, there wasn’t a lot I could do to stop him.”

“He tried to talk me out of it,” I said. “But I told him either I was coming here with him, or on my own. He decided the first option was the best one, and I appreciated the support.”

Baxter strutted across the room to perch on the edge of the desk next to Cade. He smirked as Cade’s gaze flitted from me to Asher and then back again, his expression considering. “I know, right,” Baxter said to Cade. “I can’t decide if it’s sweet or nauseating.”

“So you’re a thing now, are you?” Cade asked. “Because a few days ago you weren’t.”

“We’re a thing,” I said. “Just don’t ask me to quantify exactly what that thing is.”

Cade let out a breath so laden in frustration that it made Baxter laugh again. “Look what you’re doing to the poor man. You’re going to make him go prematurely gray.”

“If you don’t like me being here,” I ventured. “Maybe we could get on with the discussion you wanted to have. And then you can tuck me back into that nice, safe hole you’re determined to keep me in.”

“’Hole,’” Baxter echoed with a smirk. “Nice choice of words.” He raised his hand. “High five!”

I didn’t even glance his way, never mind raise my hand for a high five that couldn’t happen, keeping my gaze focused on Cade. “So, if you have questions.”

Cade gave another weary shake of his head. “You used to be the easy one to manage, the one who never gave me any trouble. What happened?”

I shrugged. “Guess I grew some balls.”

It turned out Cade had a lot of questions, Asher taking a seat next to me as I repeated the information for my boss that I’d already told Asher. In a weird turnabout of events, Cade took notes himself rather than getting Asher to do it.

“Is Baxter here now?” Cade asked during a pause in writing.

I nodded. “Yeah, he is. He’s sitting on the corner of your desk.”

Cade reached out a hand, Baxter frowning as it disappeared into his chest. “Rude,” he said. “I’m sure there are rules against this sort of thing. You know, touching your employees when they don’t want to be touched.”

“You don’t work here,” I pointed out. To Cade, I said, “You’re touching him.”

Cade snatched his hand back and stared at his fingers like he expected to find them covered in ectoplasm.

“I kind of do.” Baxter said. “You do, and I’m a weird extension of you.”

“You’re not an extension of me.”

“Wherever you go, I go. How else would you phrase it?”

“Not like that.”

“They argue,” Asher said with fondness in his voice.

“We don’t argue,” Baxter and I said at the same time.

Cade cleared his throat. “Tell me about him.”

I frowned. “Why?”

“Because I’m interested.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Full name, date of birth, how long ago he died, whatever else you can tell me about him?” He laughed. “Which, I guess, is everything because he’s here, so you can just ask him.”

At least it proved Cade believed me, a knot loosening in my chest. Logic dictated that of course he’d believe me when he employed a building full of people who could do the extraordinary, but logic and emotion weren’t always great bed partners.

We spent the best part of twenty minutes discussing Baxter, my friend virtually preening at all the attention. There were a few times where Baxter had to provide the information so I could pass it on, some of it surprising me, such as the fact that he’d already been dead for three years before finding himself in my life. I couldn’t imagine what those three years must have been like for him, stuck in that place of nothingness with no one to talk to. No wonder hanging out with a child had been preferable, even if he had a lot of uncomplimentary things to say about my penchant for Lego at that time.

The meeting had petered to a natural end when Cade’s phone rang. Asher tugged me to my feet as Cade took the call, fishing his phone out of his pocket. “I’ll book a cab,” he said, “and we’ll go out the same way we came in. We’ll be home in no time.”

I curbed the temptation to point out once more that it was his home, not mine, Asher’s earlier offer for me to move in with him something I needed to give serious thought to before I responded to it. Could I live there? With him? A few days ago, the idea would have been ludicrous. Now, though…

We’d almost reached the door when Cade called for us to wait. I turned to find an expression on his face I didn’t much like the look of—one best described as a mash-up of anger and fear. “What? Has something happened?”

A million horrific scenarios flashed through my mind, most of them involving members of my family. Had the police cocked up and not done their job properly? Had someone back at Asher’s house decided that if I could go out, they could, too? Maybe it wasn’t my family. Maybe it was John or Bellamy. Had they returned home as planned, only to find O’Reilly lying in wait for them?

Cade hung up the phone and gestured to the pair of chairs Asher and I had recently vacated. A reluctance to sit warred with my legs feeling like jelly. In the end, the latter won out, and I sank into the chair, my gaze fixed on Cade’s face. “My family?” I asked, the words sounding like I’d squeezed them through a cheese grater.

“Your family is fine,” Cade said.

I heaved out a breath. “Jesus! Don’t scare me like that.”

“Then what?” Asher asked. “Who was on the phone?” He was his usual calm self, but there was a definite edge to his voice.

“It was the police.”

I frowned. “And?”

Cade grimaced. “They found a body. A man aged somewhere between twenty and thirty.”

“Who?”

“They don’t know.”

“Okay…” A glance Asher’s way revealed him no more enlightened than I was.

“Whatever you’ve got to say, just spit it out. Because it can’t be any worse than what my imagination is coming up with. How is a body relevant to what’s going on?”

“Because it came with a message,” Cade said. He pulled his notepad in front of him. “I wrote it down so I could tell you exactly what it said rather than paraphrasing.” He fell silent, and I had to resist the urge to get up and shake him. It was a pity John wasn’t here; he would have been less restrained than me.

Baxter moved behind Cade so he could read for himself as Cade started talking. “This is a message for Calisto Dominguez.” He paused there, as if he wanted to provide time for the words to sink in.

Nausea bubbled in my gut. “Go on.”

Cade dropped his gaze to the words scribbled on his notepad again, his handwriting nowhere as neat as it usually was. “You can’t hide forever, and when you come out of hiding, I’ll be waiting.”

“That’s it?” I asked when Cade paused again.

He grimaced. “No, unfortunately not. There’s more. It gets worse, so brace yourself.”

I couldn't believe it could get worse than dead bodies with messages directly addressed to me. When Asher reached out and squeezed my hand, I squeezed back, glad of the support.

“For every day, I wait,” Cade continued, “another will die. If you want me to stop, you know what you need to do.” He shoved his notepad away in an angry gesture. “She didn’t sign her name, but it’s obvious who it’s from.”

The nausea exploded into bile, determined to force its way up my throat.

Asher’s hand tightened on mine. “Breathe,” he said. “It’s not your fault.”

I took five breaths, forcing myself to slow with each one until the nausea subsided and I could think more clearly. “I can bring the victim back,” I said. “Like Griffin did with the Satanic Romeo victims. We can get him to implicate her. The police can’t keep saying they’ve got nothing to pin on her if someone can link her to the murder.”

“You can’t,” Cade said, his tone weary.

“I can!” I argued. “Don’t give me all that staying safe crap. The police can give me an escort or something. Or…” I cast about for an alternative option, inspiration striking within seconds. “Griffin can do it. He’s already worked with them. They know him.” I waved a hand at Cade’s phone. “Call him and ask him.”

Cade shook his head. “Neither of you can bring him back.” He held up a hand when I opened my mouth to refute what he’d said. “You and Griffin are talented necromancers, but bringing someone back without a head is beyond the scope of either of your talents. I would assume even Baxter can’t help you with that.“

Of course, O’Reilly had thought of that. She wasn’t stupid. You didn’t send a message to a necromancer and leave them with the ability to question the victim. My ears filled with white noise. Asher was saying something, but the words made little sense, the noise growing louder.