Darker Than Night Read online

  I feel a thousand years old as I stand from the armchair. “I’ll take a look.”

  Hope rings painful in James’s eyes. “I knew you wouldn’t leave them there.”

  “Don’t mistake me. I’m not making any goddamn promises. Maybe I’ll join her. Maybe I’ll become her best customer, paying to fuck the women that used to be mine.”

  James looks shocked. How long has he been working for me? He should know better than to hero worship me. Even the women sometimes do it. They believe that I’m better than I am. But I’m really my father’s son, after all. He taught me. I learned from the best.

  James pulls into a shadowed spot in an alley. Front Street is three blocks from here. It’s a warm night, and the humid air seeps into the dark shirt I put on before we left. We follow the alley until James stops at a recessed doorway. He has to shove it open to lead the way into a basement. It’s an office storage building, covered floor to ceiling in file boxes. The stacks hover over my head while we pass by to the stairs. One landing. Two. And then we’re in a disheveled legal aid meeting room, looking over my sister’s stolen kingdom.

  One thing is immediately clear: this is a show, and it’s a show for me. The building she’s chosen has a restaurant on the first floor and a ballroom or meeting space on the second. It has huge windows to let in natural light. A wedding venue of some kind, with a closed-in third floor.

  Demeter is on the second, where the windows are, with the curtains thrown open.

  In the dark, the inner lighting puts everything on display.

  Except that it’s empty.

  “Where—”

  “Wait.” James looks down at his watch. Seconds tick by.

  I’m about to ask him what the fuck we’re waiting for when the doors of the ballroom open and a man walks in, carrying a wooden box. James makes a strangled noise. This is his husband, Cal. In all the years James has worked for me, Cal has never failed to pick him up at the end of the night. Not once. At first, I think he’s all right, but halfway across the room he stops and winces.

  “Broken ribs,” says James. This is his faux dispassionate voice. I use a similar one often.

  “Why—”

  “Wait.”

  All this waiting makes me want to throw myself through the windows of both buildings and end this now.

  Cal goes to the back of the room, where a table waits next to a chair. It’s not as big as the ones I have in the whorehouse—had in the whorehouse—but the symbolism is obvious. He puts the box on the table and takes a spot next to the chair. Hands in his pockets. Trying his best to stay upright.

  Demeter herself is the next person in the procession. She pauses at the door, looking down at something on the floor, and jerks her arm. Something tumbles into view behind her.

  Someone.

  It’s Savannah, and Demeter has her leashed. She’s trying to crawl and failing miserably, but Demeter has no patience for this. She drags her across the floor with all her strength, over to the chair. When they arrive, Savannah crumples against the side and Demeter wraps the leash around her fist.

  “What the fuck,” I hear myself say.

  “I don’t know,” says James. He knows what happened with Savannah. He knows Demeter got to her before. Savannah should be her most treasured pet. “Zeus—”

  Whatever he’s going to say is lost, because the rest of the girls come in. They look right—expensive, beautiful—except for their faces. Their faces, and Savannah’s sprawl on the carpet, makes bile rise into my throat. These are not the expressions of women who are about to negotiate. Who have any choice at all in the matter.

  And then—

  The men.

  Led by Xavier Morris and none other than Brigit’s father. Xavier looks like shit. His eyes are glassy and he casts around, looking over his shoulder, like he’s afraid one of his people might betray him.

  Or like there’s a bigger monster in the room than Demeter.

  Brigit’s father looks like shit, too. His nose still hasn’t healed from when I broke it. I can’t tell if he’s high, like Xavier, or just salivating at the chance to be playing a starring role in the horror show.

  I concentrate on the rest of their faces. Demeter didn’t get all of my previous clients, just quite a few on the police force and the other sick, rich fucks who couldn’t be left to their own devices without a girl getting hurt.

  It’s not real, that voice says into my ear.

  It’s very real. I think Savannah might have at least one broken bone—one of her ankles. That’s not fake.

  All the men line up in front of Demeter’s chair like it’s time for collection at church. Cash comes out of their pockets, one by one, and they stuff it into the box. If I wasn’t so near to being sick in a wastebasket I’d roll my eyes. Such useless theater. James takes one step closer to me. I don’t see why until the men clear out and the next part of Demeter’s entertainment begins.

  She beckons Cal forward and says something, and right in front of me, her face transforms into the very image of my father’s. Her eyes are lit with cruelty. Even her smile—fuck, her smile.

  Cal shakes his head.

  Demeter cocks hers to the side.

  I can’t look away, but I fucking want to. I had to watch my father do his worst to my brothers without flinching, without reacting. It’s harder now. Demeter gives a signal to someone off to the side, and one of the girls gets pushed out into the center of the room. Xavier steps up next to her and spins her in a slow circle. She’s a million miles away. I hope the emptiness in her expression is from a drug that will let her forget. Two other cops hover near Cal, who is still refusing.

  The thing about Cal is that he’s not a fighter. Not like James. So when the beating starts, he doesn’t so much as raise his hands to cover his face.

  I put a hand on James’ shoulder. He’s not moving, hardly breathing, but he won’t close his eyes. Bearing witness is its own special hell.

  It continues.

  Cal is the beginning of the chain. His refusal of the girl in the middle of the floor means she suffers, too. Xavier unzips her dress and forces her out of it. She stumbles to the side and I can see that Demeter is saying something to her. Alicia—her name is Alicia. She shakes her head, the movement slow and uncoordinated. The result is that Alicia goes to a group of cops.

  And Xavier gets Savannah.

  Demeter unwraps the leash from her hand, slowly, slowly, and then she hands it off to Xavier. Savannah has lost all composure now and she tries to stop it from happening. Yes, it’s her ankle that’s broken or badly injured at the very least. This does not stop Xavier from dragging her back out into the center of the room.

  Alicia is hidden behind a wall of blue. One of them moves aside to reveal that she’s tied to a chair now. The rest of the girls are pretending not to notice.

  Xavier circles Savannah, then pulls her roughly to her hands and knees. Demeter claps like she’s at the fucking ballet, full of glee.

  I turn away from the window like a coward and James shoves a metal wastebasket into my hands with only seconds to spare. I see Demeter’s full plan now, see it backlit on her little stage. She has Cal to signal that she knows my people. She’s putting on this nightly scene as an appetizer. Soon, they’ll be dying one by one by the window. It’s a trap, meant for me, and it’s a good one. A tried-and-true hostage situation.

  She knows I can’t leave them there.

  She knows I can’t leave Brigit to save them.

  I spit into the wastebasket and wipe my mouth. Look back through the window. Demeter has lifted her eyes from the scene in front of her.

  If I didn’t know better, I’d think she was looking at me. Accusing me.

  “What are you going to do?” James asks, voice wooden.

  “Exactly what she expects me to do,” I say with a huff of breath. “I’m going to walk into her trap. I fought it for so long. Years, really.”

  James looks at me like I’m crazy, but it’s not only about the wo
men and men being held captive by her. This is a long game. A family affair. It started with dead birds and pasta shells. It started from the moment we were born broken gods.

  “We’ll mount an attack,” I say, my voice hoarse.

  Relief washes over James, but that’s only because he doesn’t understand. He believes we’ll win. He’s never seen what Demeter can do. Through that window? It’s an appetizer. The battle we’re heading toward is the main course. Demeter. My little sister. I love her. I hate her. And only one of us can survive.

  14

  Zeus

  The sky has begun its slow creep toward dawn when James pulls up behind the building. “Three people,” I tell him. “Downstairs. I need—” I need Brigit first. “I’ll be right there.”

  He disappears into the office and I take the stairs at a run. Throw the doors open. At the far end of the hall I see a flash of white—her robe. She hardly makes it into the hall before I’m there. Advancing on her, drinking in her wary, hopeful eyes.

  “Did you see—”

  I cut off this question with a kiss meant to end all kisses. I’m so tired of pretending. I’m so fucking tired of waiting. James still has his job because despite everything he is still capable of pulling together a meeting without handholding and I—

  I need this.

  Brigit climbs up onto me and hitches her legs around my hips, every muscle so taut she’s almost vibrating. She mumbles something incoherent into my mouth while I walk us into the bedroom and I have to pull her back by her hair to hear what she’s saying. “Don’t leave me here again.”

  “Please. I’m leaving you here, sweetheart, where it’s safe.”

  I put her down on the bed and undo her robe, pull down her leggings, strip her off her panties. Rid myself of my own clothes. “No, you’re not.”

  This earns her a bite to the shoulder and at the last moment she turns her head and bites me back.

  It’s an electric pain, sharp and sweet, and it makes a long tense line out of my body and holds on tight. Brigit’s eyes are moonlit and huge and she pulls me down over her, hips bucking to meet mine. “I bit you,” she breathes.

  “You naughty fucking thing.” I maneuver her off her back and over my lap for the sheer thrill of it and arch her back by her throat. My instinct is always to push her, to make neat stripes of pain on her skin, but this time, tonight—

  I sink my fingers into the wet heat of her and fuck her with them like we’re running out of time.

  She digs her toes into the floor, low animal noises escaping her, and Christ, I could do this every night for the rest of my life. Every morning. Every day. A life with her would mean constant attendance to my filthy little whore who is so wet and swollen for me that she’s already on the edge and I am purposely avoiding her clit just to be a bastard.

  It gets her off. Brigit comes over my lap, the way she likes it, and lifts her ass to be spanked. I run a palm over her perfect skin and deny her that, too, turning her to face me so she has to balance on me, on the edge of my bed. I want my own feet on solid ground. My cock is hard and proud between us and I guide her up with both hands and position her over me.

  Her flushed, hot cheeks remind me viscerally of the whorehouse, of sitting in this same position and making her bring herself off in front of the party. She’s remembering it, too. I know it by the way her eyelashes flutter. It’s almost keening, what she’s doing, so full of longing. Brigit likes an audience. She’ll have to make do with me.

  The realization must come to her at the same time I think it, because she opens her eyes and blushes magnificently. I brace myself on the bed with one hand flat on the covers, using the other to guide her hip, to dig my fingers in, to remind her in a thousand ways that she will only ever belong to me.

  Brigit sinks down onto me with exquisite, trembling care, taking the first few inches along with short, shallow breaths.

  “You’re so fucking tight,” I tell her, rubbing a circle on her hip with my thumb. Her own hips mimic the movement. “Look at you. A shameless slut for my cock.” Brigit blushes a deeper color and takes more of me in, and more, until finally I’m as deep inside of her as I’ll ever get. “Such a good girl, taking that cock.” I lean in and teaser her earlobe with my teeth. “Make yourself come and earn your pay."

  Her hand moves quickly between her legs, fingertips seeking out her clit, and I have to catch her from falling backward, she’s working so hard to obey me. She’s been waiting for this, clearly. The fluttering pulses of her pussy are immediate and strong and I can’t stay still for this, have to fuck her. Brigit’s first orgasm sneaks up on her and sends her reeling into me, balanced precariously on the edge of the bed, but she doesn’t stop rocking her hips, fingers working, and it’s her second orgasm that tugs mine out of me and into her body.

  She shudders out all of her pleasure and rests her head against my shoulder, catching her breath. This hurts. Not the act but how fleeting it all is. I could run my hand over her hair for a thousand years.

  I cut myself off after two minutes and use what’s left of this moment to wash her hair in the shower and towel her off. When she’s finished dressing she follows me out into the living room and all the way to the door.

  “Are you tapping your foot at me?”

  She pouts a little, and it very nearly breaks my resolve not to take her back to the bedroom right now. Or—fuck it, the sofa. “I’m waiting for you to open the door for me.”

  “Ah—did you think I was a gentleman?” I guide her in front of me and slip a hand down her shirt to pinch one of her nipples. “Remember, sweetheart, I’m not.”

  Down in the office James has the three people I requested and all of them are talking quickly, in turns. Moving against Demeter is obviously different from the playful way we attacked Hades’ mountain. The mountain is more difficult to access geographically, but it was relatively straightforward—shoot early, shoot often.

  Guns are far too inelegant a proposition for the situation with Demeter. For one thing, we might shoot her. I would rather avoid that, though she would deserve it.

  She’s still my sister.

  “Have you discussed the trains with Hades?” James asks me as I sit down, Brigit standing behind me.

  “No.” But then— “Yes, actually. He’s prepared to house people if necessary.” This is true. He said as much to me during the last conversation we had at the whorehouse. I was drugged at the time but it didn’t impair my memory. It would have been better if it had. I could forget about Reya.

  “I think we need to use that option.” James is quite grim about it, which is unsurprising given what he knows of Hades. He was as shocked as anyone that my bastard brother managed to behave himself while he was my guest. “We could secure a hotel, but it will involve an outside firm and I don’t trust the police.”

  I laugh, because despite his serious expression, this last bit is a joke. “What else?”

  The three of them exchange glances. “Demeter knows all of our faces. We won’t be able to get in without her noticing.”

  We all know that if she does notice, she’ll lash out. “A distraction, then.”

  There are problems with all the various means of distraction, which is that they’ll cause chaos, and chaos will tip Demeter off, too.

  A hand on my shoulder breaks me out of the conversation. “I don’t think that’s the only option,” Brigit says. She steps up close, at my side, and the moment I see her face I know what she has in mind.

  “Absolutely fucking not.” I take her hand and squeeze. “Not for all the whores on the planet.”

  She looks steadily down at me. “If she knows their faces, she knows mine. She’ll know what I am to you.”

  My gut is in knots. “Sweetheart—”

  “Don’t sweetheart me. They would all agree with my plan.”

  “What are you suggesting?” James cuts in. “A bait and switch?”

  “Yes.” Brigit straightens up, and yes, it’s true, I should have tied her to
the bed. “If I go there, and I pretend to beg her for a job, then it’ll buy time to get the other girls out. I would be a valuable hostage.”

  James gets up from the table to take a phone call in the far corner of the office, and I pull Brigit down so far she almost tumbles into my lap. “If you think for one instant that I’m going to let you walk in there alone—”

  “Not alone,” she insists. “You would be close by. You would be so close. Just out of sight. I wonder—” She raises her voice to include the two men left at the table. “Is there anyone we could bring in to help? If things get bad.”

  James returns and drops into his chair like he’s lost the use of his legs.

  His face is ashen.

  “We’re out of time,” he announces into the heavy silence. “She’s started killing them.”

  Brigit gets the question out first. “Who?”

  “Delly.”

  The name means nothing to me, and then her face comes to mind. A redhead. New. She was, coincidentally, the youngest of the girls.

  Or maybe not coincidentally.

  There’s a silence so thick it threatens to cover the planet.

  “There’s one person left,” I tell the room at large, then get up to call my other bastard brother, the crazy motherfucker, the pirate.

  It’s a process, calling Poseidon. The number I have connects me with someone who’s shouting curses in Italian. I have to bribe him substantially to get him to take the phone to my eldest brother, who sounds like he’s in the middle of a flock of bloodthirsty seagulls.

  “I already saved you once,” he shouts into the phone. “I’m not doing it again.”

  “I love your enthusiasm,” I tell him. “But you have the wrong man.”