Page 94 of Viktor

“Don’t say it. I don’t want to—” Viktor’s lips pressed tight together.

“Mom and Dad are about to have another fight.” Rafe whispered to Waverly.

“I believe this fleam belonged to Baxter or someone who knows of Baxter,” she stated flatly.

“There are other vampires who knew Baxter,” Quintus stated.

“Who in the hell would play this kind of game?” Viktor reflected upon the words he’d spoken. Nothing would have pleased Baxter more than a brief game of cat and mouse before killing them all. A master of manipulation, he knew every button to push, saving his worst torture for the finale.

“The mess they left for Waverly in her apartment sent a message to her. It was sent to scare her. She was shot, yet she’s here. Harmed, but not dead…simply tortured a bit. And this fleam. It leaves you wondering. Is he lurking?” Ilsbeth took a deep breath and straightened her back. “Someone knows. Someone who knows the same agony he put you through. Someone who knew Baxter is helping the humans.”

“Just tell them, already. You know if it’s a witch helping them, they could be working to get Baxter out of hell,” Thorn theorized. “But breaking a blood contract is serious business. It would not be easy to get him out. Let’s face it. Your sire had his chance at Earth. He made choices that are eternal in nature. Once the devil got his soul, he’s not just going to spring him. Once you’re in Hell, paying the terms of the contract…it’s eternal. That’s how it works.”

“What is this hole?” Ilsbeth asked.

“What hole?” Viktor responded. He reached for the fleam and inspected it.

“Do you see it? It’s on the tip. It’s barely visible.”

Viktor homed in on the miniscule pin prick within the inlaid gold.

“Maybe it’s like a door lock,” Waverly suggested. “You know. Like the ones you’d have at home on bedroom doors.”

She was greeted with silence.

“I’m talking about a modern home. For humans. I know a locked door is probably nothing for supernaturals such as yourselves, but us regular old humans have doorknobs with holes in them. You need a small pin to depress the lock.”

Ilsbeth made quick work of removing a stud earring and gave it to Viktor. “Here. See if this works.”

Viktor took a deep breath, ruminating about his sire. There was no way the sick bastard could have survived the fall. No way he escaped Hell.

“Viktor.” Ilsbeth’s voice shook his contemplation, and he refocused.

Without answering the witch, he slid the end of the earring against the gold. As the pin slipped into the hole, an audible click sounded. His heart pounded in his chest as a minute section of the gold inlay popped open, revealing a secret compartment.

He tilted the metal towards the light so he could better see inside it. His stomach dropped as he read the numbers. 22:11 “The fuck not.”

“What is it?” Waverly asked.

Viktor lifted his gaze, his expression flat. He swore that monster wouldn’t ever hurt him again. “Two, two. Eleven.”

“Mother fucker,” Greyson grumbled.

“Fuck him,” Quintus said.

“What is it? What does it mean?” Waverly asked Viktor.

“Revelations,” he stated, his tone cold. “One of Baxter’s favorite quotes. The sick fuck.”

“Let the evildoer still do evil, and the filthy still be filthy, and the righteous still do right, and the holy still be holy,” Greyson recalled.

“Told ya.” Thorn gave a smug smile. “Big Satan energy right there. The owner knows the deal. Yo boy made a deal.”

“Maybe this belonged to him. I don’t know.” Viktor held up the fleam. “But it doesn’t mean he’s out of Hell or raised from the dead. It’s nothing more than a prop.”

“I suggest you keep it in a safe place,” Ilsbeth warned. “I could hold it for you.”

“No fucking way.” Viktor shook his head.