But not for long. Tomorrow, she’d be able to hear his voice again on the telephone. As soon as she could reach Chicago, she’d hold him in her arms.
It was the right thing to do. The only thing.
Wanda sat on a couch, glowering at a drink in her hand. “Sam,” she said, unsurprised to see him. Then: “Everyone else went to bed. Where’s Alistair?”
“We had a fight.”
“Damn him.” She finished off her tumbler, poured straight whiskey in from a bottle at her elbow. “You told him what’s at stake, didn’t you?”
“I did. He…wasn’t happy.”
“Of course he wasn’t,” she muttered. Her clothing was smudged and stained; everything else she owned had gone up in the blaze. “None of us are, but we don’t have any options left.”
“It’s just business, Miss Gatti,” Turner said with a shrug. “You understand that, but not everyone does.”
“Alistair always was a stubborn fool.” She turned her attention back to Sam. “So you walked out. For good?”
“I hope not.” Though once Forrest was back…
It would only make sense for Alistair to choose him over Sam. Forrest was handsome, and from what Sam had gleaned, had been a good man. Would his mind have healed…wherever he was now? Surely whatever came next would offer a surcease of sorrow. Surely he’d be returned hale and whole. The hex was about restoring both body and soul, after all.
“He’s stubborn, but he isn’t stupid,” she said. “You’ll see—he’ll come crawling back once he’s cooled off.”
He didn’t want to talk about it anymore. “Is there somewhere I can sleep, Lenny? If you think Mr. Sullivan will be all right with it, that is.”
“He’ll be happy to have you, I can promise that.” Turner stepped back out the door and gestured. “This way.”
Soon enough, Sam found himself in a comfortable bedroom in the mansion’s guest wing. A maid brought towels, comb, and toothbrush; he thanked her as she left. He brushed his teeth in the small en suite bathroom, stripped down to his underwear, and climbed into bed.
Was Alistair sleeping? Or awake and raiding the liquor cabinet, still mad that Sam was working with Sullivan? Would this crack between them widen into a gulf once Forrest came back?
Sam rolled onto his side and tried not to think about it. The point was, Alistair would be happy. Wanda would be happy. Sullivan would be happy. Dad and Opal would be happy.
And compared to that, what did Sam’s feelings matter?
Alistair stared at the door Sam had departed through, wanting to run after him. But they’d only end up shouting at one another in the streets if he did that. Sam was fucking determined to?—
The phone rang.
Either Wanda was calling from Joel’s place, or it was Opal yet again. Either way, a deserving target for his anger. Stomping to the phone, he snatched it up and snarled, “Yes?”
“Don’t hang up!” Opal yelled into his ear. “You have to tell Sammy?—”
“You and your whole family can go to hell. Call here again, and I’ll report you to the police for harassment.” He slammed down the phone. It was an empty threat, but maybe it would get rid of her once and for all.
A few hours later, he sat at the bar of The Cloven Hoof, a little speakeasy at the north end of the Loop. It was smaller than The Pride had been, and though there was a band playing, it was more of a place to sit and drink than get up and dance. He skulked in one dimly lit corner, working on his second gimlet and listening to Holly sing about a lover done wrong.
He’d been relatively sure she’d seen him come in, though she hadn’t given any sign from the stage. But when her voice released the last tremulous note and she took her bow, she shifted into robin form and flew straight to his table. Easier than walking through the crowd, he supposed.
She switched back to human form, held up a finger to the nearest server, and dropped into the seat across from him. “Alistair. What are you doing here?”
“Getting drunk.”
The server brought a martini for Holly; magic had turned it a luminescent blue. “How many have you had?” she asked, popping an olive in her mouth.
“This is just my second. I’m planning on being here a while longer, though.” He stared at his gimlet. “I don’t have anywhere else to go.”
She winced. “I…I heard about The Pride. But Wanda’s okay, isn’t she? They said none of you were hurt by the fire.”
