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“Yeah—but he’s surrounded at all times, and the only real way to meet with him is to head out to his place in the bay,” Roman says. “I know you wanted to stay under the radar, but…”
“This meeting would be worth it,” Aisling finishes for him. “Wouldn’t it, Oberon?”
“Feels like we’re stepping onto a chessboard blindfolded,” I say, feeling the edges of the unseen pieces.
“Except in chess, you know who the king is,” Aisling adds. “Here, everyone’s got their eye on the throne…and we might be able to get someone on our side who can help us get rid of one of the major players”
I nod, because it’s true. In this city, you never really know who’s calling the shots until the gun’s pointed at your head. We finish our beers in silence, each lost in thought. Out there, beyond these walls, the city breathes like a living thing, waiting to see who’ll make the next move in a game with no rules.
Chapter eight
Gunnar
At this point, Luka is my only link to my old life…and that’s where I go next.
To an old, rundown church in Celestial Hills, where my whole life changed.
I don’t warn him that I’m coming, but the door is open anyway when I arrive. I enter through the annex and climb the stairs in a walk that used to be so very familiar, and I and Luka sitting on the couch and packing a bowl of Pacific City’s finest flower. He barely even glances up at me as I walk inside.
“Your door was open.”
He grunts. “I know.”
“A little unsafe for this neighborhood, huh?”
“Figured you were coming,” he says. “Just had a feeling. Now sit down and smoke a bowl with me, newbie.”
I sigh as I slump to a seat on the armchair across from him, watching as Luka finishes packing the bowl with practiced precision. He flattens out the fresh ground flowers before passing me the pipe and a lighter, glassy green eyes meeting mine.
“Been a while,” he says. “Thought I may have seen the last of you when I heard you got a pack tat.”
“So you heard about that?”
“It’s not every day a Finch turns their back on the Angels,” Luka snorts. “We all know. Rumors move fast these days.”
“Is Vance pissed?”
“Not that I’m aware of…” Luka responds. “But you never know. I don’t think you have any reason to worry, for what it’s worth.”
“You’re the only psychic I know, so it’s worth a lot.”
I’m only half-joking.
I take a long drag on the pipe, then pass it back to Luka, who does the same. He hums to himself as he exhales, a low and resonant sound that almost sounds like a chant. Smoke billows around him in bright technicolor from the stained glass window, his hair and beard longer than usual.
“You look a little rough, if you don’t mind me saying so,” I murmur. “You good, dude?”
“I’m…” he trails off, rubbing his jaw. “Huh. Hard question to answer.”
“Try me.”
“Vibes are off in the city,” he shrugs.
“It’s more than just that.”
“Fair enough,” he goes on. “Yeah…the thing is, Vance has me tracking down that cult. It’s more taxing than I expected.”
“The dealers?”
