Page 139 of Dead Vengeance

This is really happening. We’re really, genuinely doing this. The boyfriend thing, and also crime.

All the way back to London, he hasn’t said a word that might slow me down. No note of caution, other than to not leave any fingerprints.

I don’t remember a time I had someone in my corner like this. Not since Jem. Not since I was a kid, and he was just a kid too, and life hadn’t come between us.

I’d do anything to go back to that. I guess he would too. I can’t imagine what he’s feeling—what he’s going through. What’s Tezcatlipoca like to him? He was terrifying to me. Is he scary to Jem? Does he interact with him? Or does he just keep him in a dark box until he needs him? How long has he had him? And what happens when he gets his mirror back?

It’s almost dark by the time we pull up at ExorSquad headquarters, even though it’s not five yet. It’s come over stormy and cold, and I’m hoping, the general operation being as shoddy as it is, that Ted and Gerald have knocked off early. Even so, I figure it’s probably reasonably smart to try the front door, just in case someone’s there.

To my enormous disappointment, it’s unlocked.

I offer Archer a shrug, then make my way upstairs, hoping they’ve just gone home and left the whole place unlocked. But as we ascend the stairs, the light from the first floor glows brighter, and my heart sinks.

Archer catches my arm on the landing, tilting his head back down the stairs.

He’s right. We should probably leave. Come back later.

But I’m not making Jem wait a minute longer than I have to.

I stride in the door, even if it takes Archer a reluctant second to follow me, and I find Ted standing behind his desk, phone pressed against his ear, his eyes already burning into me like I’ve personally offended him.

“What do you mean, ‘Gary’s dead?’” he says. “Already? It’s only been a day! And this is the second one we’ve sent!”

A wave of concern hits me. Poor Gary. Whoever the hell Gary is. Hopefully not a friend of Ted’s.

But Ted says, “We do not guarantee any member of crew will survive the length of the haunting, and there is no refund available should the member die on the job.”

He squints his eyes shut, pushing fingers into his temple so hard I’m surprised it doesn’t cave in.

“Do you think we’re made of men? No. No, you forfeit one-hundred percent of the fee if they die on your property. It’s in the fine print.”

There’s a loud noise from the other side of the phone, what sounds like shouting, then he finishes with, “Fuck you too, Helga.”

Finally, he slams the phone down, then offers me a welcoming, “What the fuck do you want?”

I step up to his desk and put on my boldest voice. “I want to talk to Gerald.”

Ted’s head drops sharply to the side. “Can’t help you. Gerald’s not in there.”

“Sure, he’s not.” I step around the desk, expecting Ted to step in my way like he did with the police, but he doesn’t budge. He watches me so placidly that I feel as though I must be the one in the wrong. Like I’m being disrespectful. Like Ted isn’t at all in the habit of protecting Gerald from people trying to nick his stolen goods.

Because of all this, by the time I get to the closed door, I don’t smash it open dramatically like I’d intended to. I only turn the handle slowly, carefully, and step into the darkened room quietly, as keen to get away from Ted’s unerring gaze as I am to get my hands on the mirror.

And it’s not here.

Not where I first saw it, anyway.

I find the light switch, illuminating Gerald’s billion weird objects, wondering for the first time exactly how many of these might have been stolen, and just how many of them might hold some kind of magical occult power.

Archer enters close behind me, dropping a reassuring hand on the small of my back. “I’ll start on this side.”

He probably knows a thousand times as much about these things as I ever could.

“So what is it you’re after?” asks Ted, making me jump with his unnerving proximity.

“I’m after the mirror,” I tell him plainly. “I need Gerald’s mirror.”

Ted’s eyebrows push together, his expression turning quizzical. “What mirror?”