Page 115 of The Devil

He doesn’t even make a sound. He just opens his mouth like he can’t believe what just happened as warm blood trickles over my hand and I watch him die. I watch and I know it will never be enough. I watch and I know I will never know who my father is and maybe that’s a blessing in disguise.

Hell, maybe I’ll even believe that one day.

Jet wraps his arms around me, lifting me to stand. There’s a sucking noise as I draw the knife out. Jet takes it from my hand and lets it drop. It clangs loudly as I turn my face into his chest and sob and let him hold me for a long, long time.

42

JET

Ihold her until her sobs quiet. I hold her until I feel her steeling her spine.

She draws back, wipes the last of her tears. Cotton is at her side pressing the top of her head against her thigh. She feels it too, Amal’s despair.

“I’ll tell you everything,” says Jameson from the other side of the room. “If you’ll let me walk away. I’ll disappear. There’s nothing for me here anyway. I can tell you everything.”

We turn to look at him. “Tell me then,” Amal says, her tone strangely flat.

“You promise it? You will let me walk away with my life?”

“I will let you live,” she says. I hear what she doesn’t say.

He nods, that arrogance of earlier creeping into his face as he begins. “What he said when the ceremony started about your ancestor⁠—”

“Ancestor?” she asks.

“Jeremiah Fairbairn. His daughter was… mistreated at the hands of one of the Sovereign Sons.” I know Amal doesn’t know what a Sovereign Son is but she doesn’t ask, doesn’t interrupt. Just lets him continue. “Jeremiah changed the trust. The wealth of the Scottish chapter of The Society is controlled by one or two families. Not more. The Fairbairn inheritance is what sustains us. Has been sustaining us for years. Until recently.”

“They’re bankrupt,” Severin says to the room. “From what I saw at least.”

“Correct,” Jameson says, pushing himself to stand, cradling his arm where he took a bullet in his shoulder. “So, Fairbairn thought to excommunicate himself and his family and protect his fortune but he was killed before he could finalize what he needed finalized. The way the trust was written, as long as we kept control of the descendants, all was well.”

“All was well?” Amal says, taking a step toward him, Cotton at her side growling at Jameson. “What about my mother?”

“Your mother… participated in the ceremony.”

“She participated?”

He clears his throat, drags his gaze from the dog to her. “Obviously I was not in favor of any of it. I am not a part of the twelve, as you saw for yourself tonight.”

“But she got away.”

He nods. “She managed it somehow and she managed to hide your existence. Those who helped her were punished and when that watch turned up and we saw the footage from the antique dealer, well, we were quite certain of your heritage, but the DNA test proved it.”

“I’ve heard enough,” Amal says. “And just to be clear, you’re just as guilty as the rest of them.”

I step forward, pick up a gun from the hand of a fallen soldier.

“Wait a minute. You said I’d walk away. You promised!” Jameson says to Amal.

“Oh shit. You’re right,” I say to him in place of Amal. “Amal, sweetheart, do you allow him to walk away with his life?”

“I did promise him that,” she says.

“Sweet of you, considering,” I say, then turn to Jameson. “But sadly for you, I promised no such thing and I don’t allow it.” I raise the gun and don’t bother to wait for the sniveling to begin. Instead, I put a bullet in his gut and watch him drop, screaming in agony. I step toward him, press the toe of my boot into his stomach as he writhes. It’s a terrible way to die.

“Oh God…”

“You’ve got a little…” I point. “Piss.” He’s wetting his pants.