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That answer meshes much too perfectly with the dismal honesty I unveil for her.
“I was a wretch to Mother,” I confess in a dismal mumble. “Some things…a lotof things…that probably shouldn’t have been said.”
“I know.” She gently tick-tocks her head. “Your vibes were a touch aromatic. But it’s not like she wasn’t pushing you toward the ledge.”
Jaden moves up during her allegation, ready with a concurring nod. “She’s not clueless about how all three of us feel about Gentry,” he offers with a twist of his lips. “That d-bag is worse than a mosquito bite. The harder you fight, the worse the rash.”
“A fact we’re all used to by now,” I volley. “Which makes my detonation more disastrous.”
Kell pushes up a hand. “She was right about one thing. The melodrama doesnotwork. Take a breath. She’ll figure it out and pull herself together, okay?” But when she takes in my reaction, a pointed look toward a non-distinct side entrance to the theater, she blanches. “Holy shit.”
Even Jaden freezes in bewilderment. “Is she going inside with the mob?”
Ironically, the term is a Veronica original, which intensifies our shared shock at watching her shiny updo in the throng of “regular” people making their way inside the theater. Even after she disappears into the building, the three of us refuse to move.
At last Kell mutters, “Okay. What the freakdidyou say to her?”
Before I can gather enough breath for a reply, there’s a new frenzy of activity in the area where we’ve taken cover.
The raucous is so sudden and loud, coming from the narrow access between two catering trucks, that I spin around and prepare to see half a dozen people. But only two figures emerge, engaged in a walk-shuffle-struggle gait. They’re both swearing, though not in English.
I’m unsure how to react—and am saved from the decision as soon as Maximus rushes forward. “Reg?”
And even more so as Jaden scuffles backward—once we all focus on the person she’s dragging by a pair of handcuffs.
No. Not a person. At least not the way we see it.
A recognition that doesn’t astound me as much as my brother’s voice, pushing from him despite the petrified glint in his eyes.
“Rerek?”
His bravery inspires me to reach for my own. “Oh…wow.”
Kell emits a sardonic huff. “And I thought the craziest sight of the night would be Maximus’s and your double tonsillectomy.”
Clearly—and thankfully—she’s not expecting obligatory laughs. I zoom my attention away from the demon, focusing on Reg.
“What’s going on? Where’d you find him?”
And why does he look that way?
My logic, as well as another glance at my brother’s stressed glower, orders me to keep that part under wraps. I’m not sure Jaden is ready to hear—or see—it. Not yet.
But the difference in Rerek now…it’s so distinct that I can’tunsee it. It’s another fresh irony, coming from the one who’s always strived to ignore the arrogant jerk as much as possible, but it’s undeniable. If I had to describe him in a word at this moment, it’d bedesperate. Even…needy.
“Jaden.”
The demon justifies both my descriptors as soon as the haggard syllables tumble from his shaking lips. The breaths beneath are haggard. His posture is dragged by defeat. It’s so blatant, I can’t help but continue my stare. Is this the same urbane blade who channeled Bowie, Jagger,andStyles just a week ago? Right now, he’s more like a gorgeous-but-sad street rat.
“Jaden,” he repeats with twice the destitution. “Please. I came here—”
“We see that,” my brother spits.
“Why?” I direct the interjection straight to Reg, again following my instinct. Something tells me her answer is different—and probably more accurate—than the demon’s take. “Whyis he here? What’s he doing anywherenearhere?”
“I reckoned the same thing,” the soldier returns. “Which shouldn’t have puzzled me as much as it did, I suppose. This one always did love jabbing in business where he didn’t belong.”
“Oh, dagger me twice.” The groan is threaded with enough of Rerek’s impudence that it’s an actual comfort. “NowI remember you. Veronica’s little secretary. You used to chase me out of her office with a family crest paperweight.”
