Page 27

Spring weather in the city was erratic at best. Graves insisted it had been in the fifties when he left, but somehow it was in the high eighties when they landed. Kierse stripped out of her jacket as they exited Graves’s jet into the balmy heat, the sun alighting on her dark hair and pale skin.

“Feck,” Niamh said, holding her long, burgundy hair off her neck. “It’s hot as the devil’s tit.”

Gen covered her mouth. “It’s not normally this hot in May.”

“It’s usually variable,” Kierse said, “but not like this.”

“At least you have air con,” she grumbled.

Graves said nothing, just glanced at Kierse as if she could discern what his stubborn silence meant. Was what happened on the winter solstice responsible for the unseasonable weather? Was that even possible?

A limo pulled onto the tarmac, and George opened the back door. “Sir.”

Niamh held up her patchwork quilted bag in goodbye. “Don’t have too much fun without me. And come to Brooklyn if you need a place to stay.”

Her eyes flitted to Graves and back to the girls.

She’d been adamant that they shouldn’t live with Graves again.

But Kierse wasn’t going to live with the Druids and Gen wanted to stay with Kierse and maybe, just a little bit, wanted to see the inside of Graves’s brownstone when not under threat of death.

Of course, Gen could be playing protector… as she always had.

“We’ll be fine,” Kierse said.

“We’ll miss you not being right next door,” Gen said. “Even if you lied to us.”

Niamh laughed. “Yeah. Sorry about that, babe.”

Gen’s cheeks reddened.

“You don’t have to stay there, either,” Kierse reminded her. She didn’t know the deal with Niamh and Lorcan, but she did know Lorcan and his duplicity. He was every bit as frustrating and just as deadly as Graves.

She waved her hand. “I’ve got it covered. It’s you I worry about.”

“They’ll be taken care of,” Graves said sternly.

“I bet they will,” Niamh teased.

Then she was off and away, and Graves was shuffling them into the back of the limo where another man was already seated within.

George pulled away from the airport, and Graves gestured to the man. “Kierse, Genesis, allow me to introduce you to an associate of mine, Lazarus Kates.”

Laz was everything and nothing like Kierse had imagined him.

Graves had briefed her on the long plane ride over that they would be meeting his elusive treasure hunter who had been away for Passover.

Somehow she’d envisioned a man in ragtag khaki with a wide-brimmed fedora and a perpetual five o’clock shadow.

While he had an actual beard and the khaki wasn’t far off, there was no hat in sight.

Just deep, dark-brown eyes, a swath of curly brown hair trimmed short on the sides, and tan hands and forearms marked with tiny scars, like he’d seen his way around a few knife fights.

“It’s a pleasure.” His eyes found Gen, and he nodded once before turning to Kierse. “You must be the wren.”

“That’s me.”

“Yeah, Boss told me about you,” he said gruffly. He pulled out a folder from a dark brown leather messenger bag and offered it to Graves. “Good to have you back on board.”

“Thanks,” she said hesitantly, her eyes flicking to Graves in question. He’d told someone about her? That didn’t sound like him at all. Graves quirked an eyebrow that said, See? Things have changed.

But then his head was buried in the folder Laz had given him and the moment passed. “Is this right?” Graves finally asked.

“Afraid so.”

“A Midnight Frolic?”

“Yep,” Laz said.

“I saw that they were having it in the Aerial Gardens,” he snarled. “I didn’t realize it’d be a frolic.”

Kierse and Gen looked between the two men. Kierse asked, “What’s a midnight frolic?”

She held her breath. How many times had she asked questions like this of him last time and received veiled, half hearted answers? She never expected Graves to trust her with information. Never.

But he began as if oblivious to her whirling thoughts. “One of the theaters on Broadway has a rooftop theater that was closed during the war.”

“They destroyed it, you mean,” Laz said with distaste. “Fucking vamp-werewolf showdown that nearly toppled the entire theater.”

Graves shrugged. “Before it was destroyed, they held a Midnight Frolic. It was an elite gathering in the aerial gardens with productions that showcased rising talent. If the show did well with the top clientele, they’d move the actors onto Broadway. Sort of a make-or-break moment.”

“Okay,” Kierse said, trying to figure out how this tied into anything. “And this is why they’re putting on Midsummer ?”

“Yes, the first frolic is going to be the night of the auction,” Laz said.

“Is this a problem? Didn’t we already know it was going to be a show?”

Graves tapped the papers absentmindedly. “It’s not just a show. It’s a frolic.”

“Think gentleman’s club meets nightclub,” Laz explained. “Things get rowdy.”

“And if the Midnight Frolic is cover for the auction, then it’s going to be…messy.”

“Oh,” Kierse said, seeing how that could spiral out of control.

“We need a list of people in attendance,” Graves said. “Entrances, exits, staff.”

Laz waved his hand, typing onto a tablet. “Way ahead of you.”

“Bring in Schwartz if you need him.”

Laz grinned devilishly. “Excellent.”

It was the first time that Kierse had been privy to Graves’s inner dealings.

They’d worked together to get the spear.

They’d stared at blueprints and vault codes and ran reconnaissance on Third Floor.

But she hadn’t been there when he’d gotten the blueprints.

There had been no investigation into which vault to open.

He’d already had the information, or he’d left the brownstone to “work.” It was a completely different process watching him collect it.

He’d said he was going to win back her trust. Still, it was surprising to watch it unfold.

Graves retreated into his phone after that, and Laz deep into his work for the auction. And by the time they came out on the other side of the Battery Tunnel, Kierse was captivated by the sight of her city. Her heart thrummed in time with the pace of buildings dashing by.

Tall skyscrapers, storied brownstones, bodegas, restaurants, and theaters.

And most of all, people and monsters alike.

More people out and about on the streets than there had been five months earlier.

As if they’d all finally put the worst of the war behind them for a new, glittering future.

The heart of Manhattan, her home, was alive and well.

Gen put her hand to the window. “It’s beautiful.”

“It really is,” Kierse confirmed, mesmerized by all that she had left behind.

George zipped through the city, and soon enough they were pulling into the underground garage. They exited the vehicle and took the elevator to the first floor. Kierse stepped through and could almost feel the house sigh in welcome. Home .

“Kierse,” Isolde cried, coming around the corner and throwing her arms around her. “I know you hate hugs, but…”

“I know. I know,” Kierse said with a laugh. “God, I missed you.”

Isolde swatted a kitchen towel at her. “Just my cooking.”

“Always your cooking,” Graves agreed.

“I’m glad you brought our girl back,” Isolde told him.

Graves’s eyes were on Kierse, warm and inviting. “As am I.”

“Edgar finished up with the extra bedroom you requested. He should be down any moment,” Isolde said. “Oh, there he is.”

Edgar moved like water down the stairs, his black suit impeccable, his hair threaded through with silver. “Sir, you’re back early.”

“We made good time,” Graves said.

He bowed slightly at the waist. “I’ve made up the third bedroom. I can show our guests to their rooms if you like.”

“As it pleases you,” Graves said.

“Edgar, old man,” Laz said, clapping him on the back. “I think I remember the way.”

“Yes, of course, Mr. Kates,” Edgar said formally. “But as it’s my job…”

“Yes, yes, let’s do it. We might need a fourth room set up anyway,” Laz said as the pair began to climb the stairs together.

Kierse glanced at Gen. “Well, what do you think? Still want to stay here?”

Gen bit her lip, her eyes wide as she surveyed the space.

“I’m sure Colette would have you. Or Nate,” Kierse suggested.

Nathaniel O’Connor was a notorious werewolf alpha who ran Five Points, a nightclub in Chelsea, home to the wolf packs. He was also one of Kierse’s oldest friends. She’d been thieving for him almost as long as she’d known Gen. She needed to make time to see him, now that she was home.

“I can’t go back to the attic,” Gen said with finality. “And while I need to stop in at Five Points, I don’t know that I’d want to stay there without you or Ethan.” Her cheeks were pink again at the mention of Five Points.

“Want to see Ronan?” Kierse teased.

“No!” Gen gasped, then relented. “Maybe.”

Gen had confessed that she’d had a short relationship with Nate’s second, Ronan, a man of few words and many deadly looks. Kierse had been shocked that Gen of all people would be interested in a ruthless killer with a cigarette dangling from his mouth.

“Or just Niamh,” Kierse suggested.

“Oh, please, there’s nothing there.”

“There could be.” And Kierse was certain of that.

She’d had enough relationships with women to know the difference between friendship and flirting, and Niamh had definitely been flirting.

She hoped that Gen explored everything she wanted to explore.

Growing up the daughter to a madame had made her wary in a way that Kierse had never been able to penetrate.

She hoped that learning these new powers also opened Gen up to all of life’s experiences.

Kierse’s eyes left her best friend and settled on Graves heading toward the downstairs study. She was exhausted and should absolutely go upstairs, unpack, and pass out for a few hours. But instead…

Gen cleared her throat. “Well, I should catch up with Edgar.”

“I can show you,” Kierse said quickly.

“I’ll make do.” Then she was hurrying up the stairs after Edgar and Laz. Kierse would have to check in on her before she went to bed.

Right now, she followed Graves into the study.

He was mesmerizing in the dim electric light.

She was so used to the fireplace being lit, but it had been winter when she’d last been in this room.

What she hadn’t expected was to see her case for the spear at his feet.

Though he wasn’t paying the spear any mind.

Instead, he was frowning down at a bouquet of red roses.

“Who are the flowers from?”

Graves plucked the card from the table and passed it to her. He’d clearly already read it.

Heard you were on this side of the pond and didn’t stop by.

Bad form, old friend.

—Kingston

Kierse tensed. “Is this a threat?”

“With Kingston, I’m never sure,” he admitted.

Kingston was Graves’s warlock mentor. They had met when Graves had been bleeding out on the streets of London, and only after Graves had proven he could survive had Kingston brought him on as an apprentice. They were still friends.

Well, she had thought they were.

He took the card back from her and set it amongst the roses. “Warlocks are never particularly friendly. We take offense easily.”

“You don’t say,” Kierse said sarcastically.

He shot her a look. “Kingston and I have been on steady terms for centuries. He wouldn’t challenge me over something this small.”

“But you think he might challenge you sometime?”

“Perhaps. But it’s not a concern for today,” he said easily, turning from the flowers to the case. “This is a problem for today.”

“The spear?”

“Yes. It is too powerful to leave out in the open, as I’m sure you’re aware.”

She glanced at the innocuous case, hating that he was right.

“I wish I could keep it with me,” she said, thinking of how much she preferred to have the thing in her hand than in a box.

“It’s a powerful tool. And we are not the only ones looking for it,” Graves told her. “I’d be wary of its strength. There’s a reason there’s a trail of bodies in its wake.”

“And should I trust you with the spear?”

His smile was quick and vicious. “Definitely not.” He stepped forward, smoothing a lock of her hair. “Not yet, at least. I haven’t proven myself to you.”

She swallowed and took a step back. “Where should we keep it, then?”

“I thought I would give you access to my vault.”

“Your vault?” she asked in surprise.

His eyes lit on her face. “Since I revealed its existence, I’m sure you could break into it at any point.”

“Obviously,” she said with no pretext of humility.

“But I want you to have access to it.” He wasn’t any closer, and somehow she could still feel the heat of him. The pull to him that never quite went away. “You have access to anything you want while you’re here. To me.”

She nodded. “All right.” She picked up the case. “Let’s do it, then.”

Graves guided her back downstairs and reprogrammed the vault, hidden in the depths of his underground garage, to identify her.

It hissed open softly to reveal an empty room where five months earlier the sword had been housed.

With trepidation, she set the spear inside and watched it seal shut with finality.

The end of their first bargain.

Tomorrow would begin anew.