What did I do to help any of them? Not a damn thing. Some parlor tricks with Alistair to compel the captive auction guests into compliance. I was so proud when we combined our magic to subdue them. Now though... I know it was worthless... just like me.
The roaring in my ears is loud.
Everyone takes a portal back to the compound. I should go. Mom. Callum. The funeral.
My hands start to shake. It’s embarrassing, a childish sign of fear. Is this grief? Have I ever felt grief before? Would I recognize it if I did?
Fingers link with mine, warm and strong. Mine stop shaking.
I breathe desperately. If I can get enough oxygen to my brain, I’ll be able to think again. Think around this, find the positives—the funny parts. A strangled noise leaves my throat. It sounds nothing like laughter. Dad will never laugh again.
I yank my hand free from whoever is holding me back, step into the swirling lights, and let the portal carry me away.
THIRTY-EIGHT
Unspoken rule of the Fringes #20:
Sometimes you’re wrong.
ALISTAIR
Ciprian stumbles through the portal and doesn’t look back, his shoulders sagging beneath the weight of his pain.
My heart twists, and for one heart-stopping second, I almost follow him.
Tonight went nothing like I had hoped. I now carry a burden I never asked for: the knowledge of how Ciprian looks while broken. His face crumpling as he dropped the mask, consumed by terror for his brother, worry about Sheena, then anguish when he learned of his father’s death.
I couldn’t stop those things from happening, I know that, but if I had kept my intel secret, would his father still be alive?
I hated Dimitri Casanell, but Ciprian loved him. And now he’s broken. I saw it happen, felt his fingers tremble against mine... I won’t be able to go back to the way things were.
Turning my back on the fading lavender sparks, I study thecrowd in the makeshift cell. Ciprian and I combined our magic to make them comply. Thanks in part to my compulsion, dozens of the worst supernaturals in the world are sleeping like babies as enclave personnel collect them for transportation to the compound in Colorado.
One of the demons processing the prisoners glances at me with suspicion. With Ciprian gone, I don’t belong here anymore, and he knows it. I melt into the shadows and duck out the back before he can decide to confront me.
Outside the venue, the hot summer night rolls over me.
My skin is too tight. Prickly. But it’s not the heat. Someone is watching.
Ordering myself to remain calm, I study my surroundings. It’s bitterly dark. This part of town has more bankrupt event venues than streetlights. Ambitious humans once hoped to turn this block into a gold mine, but they cut costs, and it shows. The leftover buildings—most abandoned—are like shiny coins made of plastic and spray-painted gold. Scrape them with your fingernail and it won’t take long to uncover the shit beneath the surface.
A flash of red catches my eye. My heart flips. I step closer—it looks like Celine’s hair—then grind to a stop.
This redhead isn’t Celine; it’s a man, and there’s enough moonlight shining on him to show me he’s huge.
The stranger grins and winks at me before wiping something from his cheek.
A gust of wind kicks up, and I smell blood. His or someone else’s? Gods, what am I thinking? The stairs of the venue are slick with blood, and I’m certain I’ve never seen this guy before. He can’t be familiar; I’m imagining things. I’m rattled by what happened with Ciprian.
We’re in the Fringes, though. I can’t let anyone get away with staring at me this way.
I advance on the stranger. He retreats into the dark alley as myphone vibrates. Sighing, I stop and pull it from my pocket. There are a handful of missed calls from Luca and a confusing text telling me not to trust my eyes. With one final glance at the empty alley, I shake my head and leave the strange man to the shadows.
I drive to Celine’s place on autopilot, my mind a mess of thoughts and memories I’d rather not have. The despair on Ciprian’s face... I wouldn’t blame him if he decided to leave Vegas behind forever. He’s an enclave heir, for fuck’s sake... and with his father dead, there will be a power vacuum to fill.
He doesn’t belong here anyway.
I may never see him again.
