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“Oh, hey. Did you hear? That building downtown burned to the ground last night.”
Damien frowned. “What building?”
“The one where all the body parts were being shipped.”
Damien felt his chest tighten. Yes, he had gone to the top floor. What he’d witnessed was beyond disturbing. MF had been right. The entire trafficking ring had nothing to do with sex.
Supernatural Body Parts was kidnapping human women to conduct trials. Soon, they were going to complete phase one and move on to phase two: men.
Their business?
Grinding up immortal body parts that contained high concentrations of immortal stem cells. With them, they were growing new bodies for their rich, powerful clients. They were selling immortality. Youth. Beauty.
Damien had walked through the entire lab, read some of the files, and looked at the charts. In room twelve, the first two nearly completed female bodies sat submerged in goop, hooked up to dozens of monitors and tubes. He couldn’t see what was missing from the bodies, but the chart had a completion date. One more week.
So that had been the final piece of the puzzle. Sky’s body needed seven more days, when he’d only had two to give her before his clock ran out. He’d had no choice but to take the job and Cimil’s offer of true immortality.
The other realization was that Vincente Newbery hadnot been peddling his fear porn to raise money at that party. He’d been trying to convince the wealthy elite guests to become immortal. To fight fire with fire in some fake impending doom scenario involving the world takeover of evil creatures. Also, bonus. Live forever. The party was to get orders for new bodies. It was all right there in SBP’s business plan.
Meanwhile, the other side of the business was used to kidnap test subjects and round up what was left of the immortals. After the blast, it likely became increasingly difficult to find the creatures they needed, which was why they began holding festivals to lure them in.
Damien left the place sickened. Cimil had said it was part of a bigger plan, to have faith, but there was no way he could let SBP continue. He’d texted Cimil half a dozen times.
Damien:Do you intend to give those bodies to Willa and Sky? Do they know? You cannot allow the SBP to continue.
Cimil’s response had simply been a unicorn emoji, fireball, skull and crossbones.What the fuck does she mean?he’d thought.
That had been over a week ago, and now he understood what the message meant: Minky blew the place up.
Damien set Pet down on the table next to the green dress and picked up his cell to text Cimil one more time. The building was gone. Were Willa and Sky still getting their second chance?
He hoped so. He had given up death and committed to this role in perpetuity for both women. He sent off the text.
“Hey, are you okay?” MF said. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“I am…fine.” Damien swallowed a lump in his throat and went into the store. MF had done a nice job balancing his traditional menswear with the women’s garments. She had even put up a display in the window with male and female mannequins posed as if they were waltzing in formal outfits.
“Oh, a letter came for you yesterday,” MF called out from the workshop. “I didn’t want to open it, so I put it under the register.”
Damien went to open the envelope. Inside was a photo of him with a knife, stabbing Boris in the neck. No note attached.
He drew a sharp breath and released it. The Russian mob was either coming for him, or someone was preparing to blackmail him. “Just what I need.”
The door chimed, and in walked a woman with straight black hair and a pair of pouty lips.
“May I help you?” he said drably.
She stared for a long moment. “Cimil said I could find you here.”
His breath stuck in his lungs. Could it be? His heart pounded wildly in his chest.
“Willa?” It did not look like her, but who else could it be? He walked over to her, trying to breathe right. “Is it really you?”
“There are so many things I want to say.” She dove in with a hug, wrapping her arms around his torso. “I’m so sorry. Cimil told me about the curse and…” Her voice trailed off.
“It is all right.” He held her, stroking her long soft hair, unsure of what else to do. Be angry? Forgive her? Beg for forgiveness for not coming to her aid sooner? Weep for the dead child he never knew? It was too much for a man like him, one who’d denied his emotions for over two centuries, to unravel.
“I love you. I love you so much,” she cried, burying her face in his chest. “I’ll never leave you again. No matter what.”
