Page 40 of Dead Beat

“I don’t know,” she said. “But he wants me to create a new nexus.”

“He wants you to murder someone?” Dawes squeaked in disbelief.

“You just asked me to kill someone.”

“For good reason!” Dawes sputtered. “Because it was what Theo wanted!”

“I know,” Alex said, tearing her bread into small pieces. “I know. I just feel shitty about it.”

“You shouldn’t,” Darlington said quietly. “You gave him a gift.” By the time Alex had found him in hell, Darlington had long since given up real hope of escape. He had only wanted the pain to stop. He understood the choice Theo had made.

“Does anyone want to fill me in or should I start guessing?” Turner asked.

Darlington did his best, explaining what they’d found in that house by the sea and the fate of the demon that had been Rudolph Kittscher now imprisoned in the puzzle box, tucked safely back into the linen closet. It had felt wrong to abandon Theo’s body in a place where he had endured so much.

“Someone is going to realize that’s not Kittscher’s body,” Turner said.

Alex pushed back from the table. She was still bright with light, her face gleaming, the dark circles beneath her eyes gone. But her grief was just as visible.

“So let them,” she bit out. “Let them wonder what happened to Thomas or Rudy or whatever the fuck he wanted to call himself. Let them figure out that it’s Theo’s body. At least his family will be able to bury him. Why are we still trying to keep secrets for Lethe and the societies? Why are we covering up their bullshit?”

All reasonable questions and the only answer Darlington had was habit. Duty. Tradition. They’d spent years as caretakers and custodians, following a protocol written over a century ago that pretended to noble service but cared more about order and silence than any kind of fairness. It was easy, really, until people started dying.

Turner raised his hands in surrender. “I’m not arguing. I just want to make sure you were careful.”

“We were,” Dawes said firmly.

Alex folded her arms. “No theft, no mess, no signs of foul play.”

Tripp leaned forward. “Do you think,” he whispered dramatically, “that AR is listening in on us?”

“I’m pretty sure if Alban Reed is listening, he won’t be fooled by your clever code.”

Tripp gave Turner an elaborate wave as if to say, Suit yourself.

“I don’t think there’s a magical bug at Il Bastone,” Alex said. “He didn’t know anything about what we’re doing and there’s no way he would have missed the opportunity to threaten all of you and let me know he was even more loaded on leverage. The man is not subtle.”

“Then what do we do?” asked Dawes.

“I stall,” said Alex. “I stall until … I don’t know. Until we find a way to make sure Golgarot stays stuck in hell and I figure out how to scare the shit out of Alban Reed so he leaves me and my mom alone.”

“Why didn’t you tell us he threatened you?” Darlington asked.

Alex shrugged, the movement abrupt, as if she couldn’t control it. “We have enough enemies already. I figured I could handle it.”

“We don’t do this alone,” said Turner. “That’s how we lose.”

Again Alex shrugged. Let us help, Darlington wanted to say. Let me. But Alex had been fighting with no reinforcements for so long, she didn’t know how to ask. Fear was unacceptable to her, but anger might do the trick.

“He’s counting on you to stay quiet,” Darlington said. “Why do you think he had this chat one-on-one?”

Alex’s head snapped up, and she frowned. “Maybe … he thinks you all don’t know what I can do?”

“He thinks you’re the same lonely scholarship kid who walked onto campus two years ago. But you’re not, are you?”

Alex gave a single shake of her head.

“So stop acting like it. We’ve been to hell and back. We’ve seen things Alban Reed never dreamed of.”