I beam. “Thank you. That’s the closest to a compliment any of you have really paid me. I’ll take it,” I say as I slide off the bar and go phantom, fashioning myself a long, understated sexy dress.
Silver high heels offer the black gown a pretty contrast, along with a silvery mask that makes it look like we’re ready for the ball. Even if he is wearing tactical gear with his mask instead of a tux.
I’m actually sick of seeing them in tuxes since the trials. Bad memories are involved with tuxes.
Jude arches an eyebrow as he sweeps his gaze over me. “I can’t even right now,” he says, batting a hand in my direction before reaching through me and siphoning us before I can tell the others goodbye.
However, I don’t complain as we land in a parking lot outside of a condemned shopping mart.
“This is a creepy meeting place,” I tell him, twirling around in my phantom form. “And I think I’m entirely overdressed.”
“Remember this is a very important contact to all of us, and don’t do anything to ruin that relationship,” he says quietly, as though he’s worried someone may be listening.
“Why would I do anything to ruin it?” I ask suspiciously.
He gives me a look.
“Fine,” I grumble, rolling my eyes and deciding not to argue, since I’m supposed to be pretending I don’t care so much. “I promise.”
We stay quiet after that, for a very boringly long time.
No Lake shows up.
A sizzling sound has me zapping myself across the lot to a wall, and Jude is right behind me, both of us staring at the burning words as they appear.
It’s an address in New Orleans. Why is that—
A tingle passes through me when Jude’s hand touches my phantom hip, and suddenly we’re inside a hotel.
My breath catches, and I race behind him, still in phantom form as he walks to the front desk. The guy behind the counter looks up with a bored expression on his face, despite the numerous weapons strapped to Jude’s body like he’s going to war.
The guy never speaks to Jude, and Jude never says a word. A key card is passed over without any other exchange, and Jude walks over to press the elevator buttons.
As soon as the doors open, he boards, and I join him.
“What’s going on?” I ask him warily when we’re all alone on the elevator.
His eyes flick up to the tiny red dot on a panel, and the plaque under it informs us there is indeed a camera watching the elevator. Right. He can’t talk to me in here.
When the doors open, he steps off first, but I’m right behind him, scanning the hallway. I really don’t like this cloak-and-dagger stuff. It’s making me paranoid.
Honest people don’t have their friends sneak around like criminals to meet them, right? Clearly, Lake is not as awesome as I am.
“I don’t think bringing in new people at this point is the best idea. I know my opinion doesn’t matter, but we learned a lot about the Devil’s intentions through the trials,” I state, knowing he can’t argue with me in the hallway.
He holds the key card up to a door, and he pushes through it.
Pulling out a compass-looking contraption that looks oddly familiar, Jude moves to the desk in the room. He opens it, does something to it, and then leaves it open.
As he draws all the curtains completely shut, he pulls off his mask, and I lose mine as well.
“We can speak and not be heard, even if the room is bugged now,” he tells me.
“What if someone is pressed to the wall with a glass to their ear?” I point out.
I love it when he looks exasperated with me. It means I have at least some effect on him. The wrong effect, but I’ll take it.
“That device makes it so that only silence can be heard in this room, unless you’re physically in this room.”
“I’m not physically in this room, but—”
“Just stop talking,” he says, his hands up like he ‘just can’t with me’ right now.
“Why did she send you to this place?” I ask him as he pulls out his phone, but doesn’t do anything. “Shouldn’t you tell the guys where we are?”
He shakes his head. “We never text locations. Phones are too easily traced. My GPS is off, but anyone could be reading our messages. They know Lake is paranoid and would send me to another location to meet,” he tells me.
I poke my head through the outside wall, looking down and noting we’re on Bourbon Street. I know this because the guys come here on occasion when they’re taking a much-needed break from all the reaping.
Pulling back in, I face him as he pours himself a glass of the drink I got shit-faced on last night. I’ll pass today. I need to be level-headed.
“How do you know Lake?” I ask him, sitting down on the bed.
“Are you going to talk the entire time we have to wait?” he groans.
“Does she always keep you waiting so long?” I muse.
He rolls his eyes as he throws back some of the drink and starts removing his straps of weapons with his free hand.
“She’s paranoid. She’ll watch the outside of the hotel for a while. She’ll watch the lobby. Then she’ll gradually move up to her own room and watch the door. Then, when she’s certain I haven’t been followed, she’ll come in.”
“That’s a lot of paranoia,” I agree, as though that’s what he’s saying.
He studies me over the rim of his glass when he sits down—weapon free—and stares at me.
“We met Lake over a century ago. She went into the trials a few decades back, and because of her, we were able to get a lot of information about the process of selection.”
Alarm bells go off inside my head.
“Wait, you thought Manella was in charge,” I remind him. “And he wasn’t. Sounds like she’s feeding you bad information.”
“Or the Devil lied. Which is far more likely, since he made it sound like he had our backs right before he shoved us into the third trial to die,” he points out. “Lucifer is playing with us, and Lake is hesitant to meet with me because she’s worried she’s next. There was a culling in the underworld shortly before the third trial.”
My eyebrows lift.
“He eliminated all his guards—both hell’s throat and royal guards. Lake is an escort, and half of her kind have been replaced because the others were already recycled,” he goes on. “She thinks it has something to do with everything going on with us. Something big is happening, Keyla.”
I wave my hand dismissively. “I’ve decided that name no longer fits me. While I have some sentimental attachment to it, and might keep it as a middle name, I need a new name to define me now. Something badass.”
He blinks at me before muttering something under his breath that I probably wouldn’t like, so I don’t ask him to repeat it.
“Why’d you agree to let me come with you so easily?”
“Because if you’re here, I don’t have to worry about the three of them doing something stupid while I’m not there to reel them back,” he fires back without even having to think about it.
I knew it seemed too easy.
“Why do you think I’ll cause problems for you and this contact?” I ask him, reminding him of what he said in the parking lot.
His lips twitch, but he doesn’t respond immediately. “You gave your word you wouldn’t, so the reason doesn’t matter,” he says evasively.
“Why the culling?” I ask him, going back to the matter at hand.
He shrugs a shoulder. “I have no idea. Unless he felt he couldn’t trust any of them, given the Lamar deal. Which would mean he had no part in what happened to Lamar.”
“Which conflicts with our theory that the Devil has been behind all of it. What if he’s just behind part of it?” I ask him, my eyes not moving from his.
He raps his fingers on the edge of the chair, smirking like he’s already figured that part out and I’m slow to the game.
“This is what you were all discussing last night, isn’t it?”
“When you stormed through for an alcohol run? Yes. Yes, it is,” he states with a bored drawl.
Frowning, I look down at my pretty toenails in my elegant, high-heeled sandals.
“Why didn’t the others tell me?” I ask quietly. They spent the night in my room, after all.
“Don’t look so devastated,” he says bitterly. “They’re too busy trying for the impossible to think straight right now. Your fault, really. The evil pussy is just backfiring a little, it seems.”
This is what we do. Line our insults with snark, never being real with each other. Jude is quite literally never going to stop wanting to hate me, because he sees me as…impossible.
“Despite what you think, there is no jealousy between the three of them. It is possible,” I say on a sigh.
“A few nights does not make the impossible possible, comoara trădătoare. It takes longer for such resentments to fester, and they always do. Just like there will always be a price. Just like there will always be a favorite.”
That last part makes my eyes roll. “My favorite changes based on who has made me happiest at the moment. I’m rather capricious that way.”
He snorts derisively. “Those are superficial favorites. Eventually you’ll become attached to mostly one, seek that one out more and more. And it’s never been more dangerous before than you, because we can have you individually.”
He adjusts himself in his pants like he’s proving a point, and I realize for the first time he’s actually hard. And we’re alone.
“None of us seem immune, and whoever you end up becoming most attached to…I don’t know if they could do as we’ve done in the past when it reached that point and simply walk away,” he says seriously. No bite to his tone. No snark infused to turn it into banter.
Just real, honest disclosure.
“Then the bond would likely sever, and three of us will roam with a missing piece and the inability to ever experience that one pleasure ever again. That is your treacherous step, even though you won’t admit it aloud. All I want you to do is really think about that. Think about what you’ll be destroying.”
I admit I wanted real talk, but now he’s just being boringly obtuse, and I can’t suffer another moment of it.
“If I wanted just one of you, I wouldn’t be here with you right now, worrying to death you’re being tricked or trapped by this girl you trust far more than me. My own jealousy stems to you at the moment, even though you’re certainly not my current favorite and haven’t been since that first night when you opened your mouth to speak and ruined the illusion of the bad boy who might make an exception for me.”
His lips twitch before he takes a sip of the alcohol again.
I’m a little curious what his chosen taste is.
“I don’t even particularly like you at the moment, yet I’d still stop my heart from beating if it meant saving yours from such a fate,” I add, daring him to argue.