He met Gideon’s eyes. A sense of understanding and shared hatred passed between them.
Gideon held some pathological need to be the hero. Like his self-worth hinged on his ability to protect others. That day in battle, he had gone back for the injured. He’d dragged corpses halfway to safety before realizing it was too late. Once returned to the mundanity of Unity, Gideon pursued the only career that allowed him to continue to be the hero.
Unlike Devin who had taken a decidedly less altruistic path in life.
Devin was barely sixteen when he enlisted, lying about his age for the access to stable food and shelter. But war was cruel, and it chewed thoroughly before it spit you out. The sight of anguished, murky yellow auras snuffing out one after the other had broken what little was left of his soul. He stumbled back to society emotionally stripped and more resentful than when he went in, but grit, luck, and a resounding performative charisma built his club, which was all he really needed to survive. Survive, but not live. With little to drive him except the festering wounds of society’s treatment and then the emotional scars left by thewar, Devin had poured what was left of his soul into the only worthwhile pursuit he had left. Revenge on Graves. After nearly a year he was the closest he’d ever been to achieving that revenge.
“What about him?” Devin considered telling Gideon about his plans to bring the coward down, but thought better of it. Gideon wanted Graves dead just as much as Devin, but given his career was not as free in his options. He couldn’t go around murdering men he hated and he’d already shared his opinion on citizens taking justice into their own hands.
Devin, however, would end Graves’s life or die trying. He only had to close his eyes to hear the screams again, to feel the hot spray of his comrades’ blood across his face. If not for Graves’s cowardice, the massacre wouldn’t have happened.
Gideon smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He shoved his hands in his pockets, an old habit to keep from fidgeting. “I’m sure you’ve heard of the growing unease in the Night Court?”
Devin shrugged in response, he knew about it but only in the way everyone heard the whispers of hostility, and he wasn’t about to share what he and Miranda had uncovered to a Watchmen, friend or not.
“I think Graves is organizing the Night Fae against parliament. I’m not completely sure what his goals are, and this is more of a gut instinct than anything. Officially, my hands are tied to the bureaucracy run by men who sympathize with Graves. We only know what we’ve picked up from the few patrols we send through the Night Court. Which, is getting increasingly difficult because there are no Night Fae in the Watchmen and no one else is queueing up to take that detail.”
“We both know Graves is lower than the slime of the earth. What does this have to do with me? I don’t know anything.” Devin watched Gideon’s mouth close, a palpable hesitation, andDevin understood. “You think I have news because my mother was from the Night Court?”
“I was thinking of your club, actually. You’re perfectly positioned to gather intel from all manner of race. I’m grasping here, I know, but I also thought it would be an excuse to check in. Make sure you hadn’t drunk yourself to death yet.”
“I’ll keep an ear out for you, but that’s the best I can offer. I won’t disrupt business because you’ve elected to remain on the side of law and order when you could be helping me hunt the bastard down and end this by tomorrow.”
Gideon rubbed at his temple. “While tempting, that decision was based on more than just me. My sister doesn’t make the best choices, and since I promised to always be there for her, I can’t go landing myself in jail. Plus, Rachel would have followed me.” His eyes grew unfocused, distracted.
“Can’t have poor Rachel ending up in jail, can we?” Devin was prodding weakness, he knew it, but that didn’t stop him from voicing it. Gideon’s flinch wasn’t nearly as satisfying as Miranda’s glare.
“You’re an ass,” Gideon said, voice low. “She said not to expect much in coming here. Guess I should have listened. You’ve got your drinks to wallow in, smother all the bad feelings.”
“You should listen to Rachel.” Devin’s lip curled; his teeth bared. “She’s got way more sense than you.”
Gideon approached the desk and Devin wondered if he had pushed too far. He set his hands on the surface, glaring down from his higher vantage. “You’re not—wait.” His neck craned, eyes hardening as he snatched up the invitation Devin had stupidly left in plain sight. “What the fuck is this?”
Devin cursed under his breath then answered, “It’s nothing.”
“Nothing? This is an invitation to Cordelia Wilde’s engagement party. ToGraves.” Gideon’s voice thundered. He was seething and Devin couldn’t blame him. He would be, too.
“When you’re in my position you get invites to things.” Devin shrugged as if the note were inconsequential. “It means nothing.”
Gideon narrowed his eyes. “You’re going?”
“I haven’t decided.”
“So, you’re thinking about going where this weasel will be, not just in attendance, but in his very home? Were you going to mention this when I asked you about Graves?” Gideon leaned over the desk, using his height to stare down at Devin. “What are you planning, Drake?”
“For the record, yes, the plan was for you to remain ignorant. As for the details, it’s best you didn’t know,” Devin replied, pointedly. He let the statement stand. Gideon continued to breathe through his nose, his posture stiff and his hands on the desk. He took the full meaning.
“If you do something stupid, I’ll have to arrest you,” he said quietly, meeting Devin’s eyes. He knew there was only one reason on earth that would prompt Devin to attend a party with Graves in attendance.
Devin smiled. “You’d need evidence and a case to arrest me, Blair. I plan on giving you neither.”
Devin was partially joking. He did not plan to murder Graves at the party. But he wanted to. He wasn’t entirely sure he could resist should he find himself faced with the man himself. For Miranda’s sake, and her sake only, he planned to allow the man to survive the night.
Gideon looked away. “You’re right. It’s best if I don’t know.” He stood up and straightened his uniform. He headed for the door. “Any information from the Night Court you can pass my way would be appreciated. And Drake?”
“Yes?”
“Get in a shot for me.” Gideon left without another word.
