And then she fucking blocked us out.
In the second hour, Baelfire finally woke up. Except it wasn’t actuallyhim, just the beast living inside him. If I ever thought his inner dragon was a pain in the ass before, it had nothing on this. Silas had to stun the big oaf with magic twice in a row to keep him from shifting in a blind, snarling rage.
Whatever that fucking wraith did to him, it took a while before Baelfire was able to come to the phone, metaphorically speaking. Then we were a healing, cussing, pissed-off trio on the verge of killing each other—especially because we still couldn’t reach Maven. Or Crypt, for that matter.
Until finally, I drew the damn line.
So, Maven decided to leave us here to go do shit by herself? I don’t blame her. How useless are we to her that we get in a fight ofthatproportion, followed by a visit from my new definition of hell personified, and yet she had to patch us up all alone and shoulder on? She’s probably exhausted, pushing herself too hard to meet the deadline the Entity gave her so she can save people she cares about.
And here we are, whining like a bunch of fucking toddlers.
But not anymore—there is no way I’m sitting around on my ass while she is out there doing gods-know-what. We’re going to be useful to our keeper if it’s the last godsdamned thing we do.
When I went off on Silas and Baelfire to say all of that, it shut their squabbling right up.
The last thirty minutes have been spent far more productively. By all three of us.
Working and planning together.
Dear gods, it really must be the end of times.
I lean back from the small suite dining table, babying my injured shoulder from the wolf shifter who bit me back in Alaska. Silas can’t use more blood magic for healing until he feeds from Maven, not to mention he’s in shitty shape himself. We all are.
“All right,” I mutter. “I’ll make the call. I’ll need to use your phone, Dragon Breath.”
Baelfire practically throws it at my face before he stalks to the bathroom to shower off the remaining blood he’s coated in. Just because we’ve been productive doesn’t mean we aren’t still pissed the fuck off about everything that happened today.
I wander into one of the suite’s bedrooms as the cell phone rings. I’m almost sure he won’t pick up when there is a click and a long sigh.
“Can’t you let me fake my death in peace, Evie?”
“I’ve told you a million times not to call me that,” I point out, staring out the window at the sunlit little Nebraska town. Snowis piled up on the sides of the street, and humans chatter happily as they stroll here or there. Such normal lives, taking it easy during the holidays.
I envy them. I’d give fucking anything to spend the holidays with Maven just spoiling her and not on the run.
My contact huffs over the phone. “Yeah? Well, I’ve told you a million times not to call me, period. Yet somehow I know that when some unknown number calls my fresh start number at an absolutely ungodly hour?—”
“It’s ten in the morning where you are,” I point out.
“You know what? It’s always an ungodly time for you to call me because, like I said, I’m pretending to bedead. So who’s the asshole here?”
“Probably me,” I admit.
“Damn straight.”
“I need your expertise, Ian.”
The vampire grumbles, and I hear something knocked around on the other end like he’s rummaging in a fridge. “This is supposed to be my retirement, you know.”
“Twenty-five is a little young for retirement.”
“Not with a bank account as big as mine,” Ian crows, laughing. Then he sighs. “Damn it, that really doesn’t land with you, huh? It’s like comparing a hill to a fucking diamond mine. By the way, I noticed that all the real estate you bought a few years ago keeps increasing in value, despite what everyone said—including me. You’re annoyingly good at business, you know that? Shrewd as your old man.”
I grimace. I’ve gotten that so-called compliment plenty of times. As if it’s not enough to look like the councilman, I also have to naturally take after him in so many ways that people can’t help comparing me to him. Even Ian, who knows how much I dislike my parents.
Especially now that I know they’ve been bullshitting me about my curse for my entire fucking life.
Anger wells up again at the thought of that fake prophecy translation and how much it has screwed with me. I pinch the bridge of my nose.
