Revenge & Rapture E-Book

Deborah Wilde

• Herausgeber: Te Da Media
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2020

Beschreibung

Enjoy this urban fantasy by best-selling author Deborah Wilde. Featuring an enemies-to-lovers romance and a savvy female P.I., this giddy sexy detective series will keep you up all night. 

Ash is tightening the noose on her enemies…
...and praying the rope holds.

Ash’s revenge plans for Chariot and Isaac Montefiore take a surreal turn when Isaac’s wife hires Ash to find an item that Isaac is obsessed with. Ash takes the job, but this quest throws her back into Levi’s path and puts Rafael in grave peril. 

Meanwhile, Ash’s search for a rare type of magic once again pits her against the Queen of Hearts. A little knowledge is a dangerous thing, but too much might prove fatal. 

To top it all off, Ash’s mother is being blackmailed by someone threatening to expose Ash as a Rogue unless Talia resigns from her political career for good. Talk about putting the “fun” in family dysfunction.

Secrets, vengeance, and magic collide in Revenge & Rapture. With love, family, and her enemy’s immortality on the line, a con set in motion fifteen years ago comes to an explosive conclusion, and Ash only has one chance to come out alive.

This snarky paranormal mystery is perfect for fans of Hidden Legacy, Lizzie Grace, Blood Vice, Mist Riders, and the Sam Quinn series.

Binge this complete series now!

Leseprobe

REVENGE & RAPTURE

A Snarky Urban Fantasy Detective Series

DEBORAH WILDE

Contents

Be Part of the Magic—Join Us Now!

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Sneak Peek of Howl at the Moon

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Be Part of the Magic—Join Us Now!

Bestselling author Deborah Wilde presents a razor-sharp urban fantasy packed with:

• A fiercely clever private investigator whose snark could cut diamonds.

• A richly woven world of hidden magic, danger, and secrets waiting to unravel.

• Twists, mysteries, and the kind of laugh-out-loud humor that that keeps you hooked.

REVENGE & RAPTURE is the fourth book in The Jezebel Files series.

Deborah has a chatty newsletter where she shares what’s warming her cold, dead heart, gives sneak peeks and insider information, and holds giveaways.

Join the Wilde Ones today!

Chapter1

Vancouver was burning.

Glass broke outside my office window, followed by a wailing alarm and angry voices yelling ugly taunts. The simmering tension of the past couple months between Nefesh and Mundanes had exploded on this June night.

Police and ambulance sirens shrieked in the distance and the smell of smoke drifted in through my locked window. Every cop in the city must have been on patrol.

Inside, all was still, the air sharpened to a point. I rolled my chair back and forth in front of the wall that I’d turned into a link chart. At the top were photos of the four scrolls of the Sefer Raziel HaMalakh held by Team Jezebel. Small cards pinned underneath detailed the place of their capture and the nature of the encounters with Chariot in obtaining them, with pieces of string running between connected information. I’d rejigged the chart numerous times, but had yet to find either the one piece of the Sefer still held by Chariot or any more of the Ten’s identities.

My phone buzzed and I distractedly stabbed the answer button. “Stop waiting up for me, Pri.”

“They’ve closed the bridges in and out of downtown,” my best friend and roommate said in a tense voice. “And I don’t know how much longer Hastings Street will be open. It’s almost midnight, so if you don’t come home now you might be stuck there.”

“I’ll sleep in my chair. I spoke with the company who bought the party warehouse where the golem was patrolling. Totally legit local developers are turning it into condos.” I fired a dart into a photo of Isaac Montefiore’s head, half-turned away from the camera. “Another dead end.”

“Cut yourself some slack. Jezebels have been fighting this for four hundred years. You’ve barely been on it four months. And right now, you need to sleep.”

“Saving the world comes first,” I said.

“Is it about saving the world or is it more about beating your enemies?”

“Does it matter so long as they’re stopped?” I said.

The noble cause of dispensing justice warred with my desire to destroy Isaac Montefiore so comprehensively that his life would be a smoking ruin, my signature writ large in the ashes like a painter signing their masterpiece. Work goals were important.

“It matters a lot,” Priya said gently. “Your dad was murdered. Don’t you think you should get help? This isn’t healthy.”

“I had enough of talking out my feelings when I was thirteen. Taking Isaac down is the only therapy I need,” I snapped.

Mrs. Hudson, my pug, lifted her head from her doggie bed in the corner and whined softly. She hated when her mommies fought.

“That’s exactly what I mean.” Priya gave an aggrieved sigh. “This isn’t about Chariot anymore for you. It’s all about Isaac. He’s cost you both men you loved and⁠—”

I hung up on her and rubbed my eyes, nearly blinding myself when a boom rocked the building. After a second boom—someone ramming the front security door downstairs—came the joyous cries of emboldened rioters about to pilfer.

Not on my watch.

“Stay,” I told Mrs. Hudson and crept down the two flights of stairs to the lobby.

The looters shattered one of the office doors.

I cornered a man carrying a stack of laptops out of the small game design company owned by two Nefesh women. They’d recently moved in after working out of their apartment for years and struggling to get a toehold in a male-dominated industry. I’d learned this while waiting in line with them at the café at the end of the block.

“Put them back,” I said.

The looter’s eyes narrowed. A short man in need of a haircut, he stank of stale beer and sour hatred. “You one of them fucking Nefesh?”

I crossed my arms. “If I was?”

His eyes darted left for a fraction of a second.

I spun, my spiky blood armor in place, and blocked the strike with my forearm. The baseball bat my attacker had used cracked down the center. My armor held up fine. Wrenching the bat away from him, I swung. It cut through the air with a whistle, embedding in the plaster inches shy of his head.

The stench of urine filled the air and he bolted.

“Now.” I turned to the other man, my armor gone, and a cold smile on my face. “You’re going to put the computers back, tidy up the office, and then you and your friends are going to stand guard here the rest of the night and ensure no one else tries the same thing.”

With a scoff, he marched past me, still cradling the computers. I grabbed his arms and yanked sharply downward, dislocating both his shoulders.

His scream was a thin, high cry that sounded rather kitten-like. The laptops hit the ground, his arms dangling uselessly at his sides.

I made a note to check with the owners on how many computers would require replacing. “Do we have a deal?”

He whimpered, his gaze unfocused and his breaths coming in quick rasps.

“You big baby.” I popped his joints back in one at a time, using a technique I’d learned from Miles during a training session, when he’d dislocated my shoulder during a sparring round. He showed no mercy when we trained. As a result, he’d taken my fighting abilities to a new level, but every time I staggered out of the gym looking like a piece of tenderized steak I hated Levi for abandoning me on that front.

“Deal or no deal?” I said to the looter.

He hugged his shoulders. “Crazy bitch.”

Wrenching the baseball bat free with a shower of white dust, I tapped it against my palm. “I have magic and a baseball bat. You have about two hundred and six comically fragile bones. What’s it to be? Insult me or conclude our business transaction?”

“We’ll keep guard.” His sneer was blown by his flinch as I hoisted the bat to rest it on my shoulder.

I raised an eyebrow. “Run along, then.”

He fled back into the office, issuing instructions to his friends.

Satisfied that my building would be protected until these riots ran out of steam, I headed upstairs to retrieve Mrs. Hudson. With the fractured bat stowed next to my corner safe, I grabbed my leather jacket with a soft whistle.

The puppy knew the deal since we had the same routine several times a week. She stood still, allowing me to clip the leash to her collar, then we made our way down the stairs and into the night. The intruders, busy cleaning up the office, didn’t notice our departure. I appreciated a man who followed orders.

Outside was pandemonium. Store windows had been smashed in, people using any excuse to ransack buildings. Someone ran past me brandishing a box of tacky Canada T-shirts like it was the Olympic Torch. Hopefully their own stupidity would weed them out of the gene pool sooner rather than later.

I picked Mrs. Hudson up to spare her paws from the glass that made the cobblestones glitter like diamond dust. As we walked through the chaos, a distant part of me insisted I should give a damn. After all, my mother had written the proposed anti-Nefesh bill that had stirred this particular powder keg of hatred and fear.

We passed an old heritage building that was on fire. The roof had caved in and firefighters battled the flames furiously, using long jets of water to save the exterior art deco façade.

A couple of months ago, the Queen of Hedon had given House Pacifica intel that one of the original founders of the Untainted Party had laundered money through the magic black market. That was bad enough, but it was for a business venture that Jackson Wu, the current head of the provincial party, had a stake in.

I gave a chin nod to an enterprising youth with a duffle bag full of spray paint cans who was doing a brisk business—mostly to Mundanes with Untainted Party shared values, if the slogans freshly graffitied on nearby walls were any indication. Capitalism at its finest.

For reasons I couldn't fathom, Levi was sitting on that information about Jackson. The bill loomed large in news reports, and the daily coverage of Mundanes angry and Nefesh worried about its potential impact stoked public anxiety. Why did Levi put everyone through this emotional rollercoaster when he could just end it?

A cop on horseback trotted past me and blew his whistle at some people rocking a car. The industrious group whooped at the young man who stood on the hood stomping out the windshield.

As the days grew longer and warmer, tensions between the two communities had grown, until a simple altercation between a Nefesh and a Mundane sports fan over Stanley Cup tickets earlier today had blown up into a city-wide riot that was now ten hours strong with no sign of abating.

I chuckled and stepped out of the path of a wildly veering pick-up truck with actual lightning crackling above it. Hockey tickets. How Canadian.

The young woman powering the electricity screamed, “Die, Mundanes!” as the truck careened past me.

Mrs. Hudson and I made it to my car, Moriarty, without incident. Even though my gray Toyota was the lone vehicle on this level of the parking garage, and as such should have been easy pickings, it was untouched.

At least this particular nemesis was never going to leave my life.

Once Mrs. Hudson had settled herself in the back, I eased the Toyota out onto Water Street. Between the packs of people roaming the city, police street closures, and general debris, making my way out of downtown was slow going.

The radio played messages from both the mayor and Levi calling for calm and for people to stay home. Levi was especially insistent that violence would not be tolerated. The chaos and hatred had to be killing him.

With the bridges out of commission and the streets a disaster, I was forced to zigzag my way through downtown until I cleared the on-ramp for the Cambie Street Bridge, and veered west once more.

In comparison to downtown, the rest of Vancouver was far too quiet. It was barely 1AM in early June and there should have been traffic from people heading to bars and spilling out of restaurants, but Moriarty was the only car on the road. We passed block after block of dim storefronts and boarded-up doors.

An empty bus passed by like a skeleton ship in the night, its neon destination sign eerily proclaiming “No Service” in urgent capitals. The billboard on its side depicted happy people partaking in an upcoming tournament to benefit Vancouver General Hospital. Golf. Ugh. The only reason to look that cheerful holding a five iron was because you’d just gotten away with murder.

My city’s desolate atmosphere would have been disquieting had I not been gripped by the sense of predatory anticipation that always took hold when I headed down these roads to one particular destination.

I pulled up to the curb down the block from Isaac’s mansion in Dunbar and cut the engine, staring into the darkness that enveloped his stately home. Wind whispered in the press of trees to my back at the edge of Pacific Spirit Regional Park, a vast forest with hiking trails that was larger than Golden Gate Park in San Francisco.

I drummed my fingers on the wheel, scanning for any movement through Isaac’s windows.

He was the only one of the Chariot Ten whose identity we’d unearthed, but tailing him had yielded nothing. All his meetings were legitimately connected to his security company and his socializing included his wife, who hated her husband and certainly wasn’t part of that group. That meant that anything Chariot-related was conducted via calls or texts.

If possible, we would have bugged every device he had in hopes of catching a break, but the man specialized in cybersecurity and data encryption. He knew how to hide his digital profile, including encrypting his internet history through a VPN, a virtual private network, and not syncing his phone to his car.

He seemed untouchable.

A familiar Tesla pulled up at the end of the block and my heart twisted. Sleep had eluded me most nights since I’d discovered Isaac’s ties to Chariot back in April. I’d started these night-time hauntings figuring that I might as well put my insomnia to good use and case the Montefiore property. Their alarm system protected the front and back doors and all the ground floor windows, though there were no cameras. As someone very publicly anti-magic, Isaac didn’t use wards.

Once in a while, the Tesla showed up. It was the Chocolate Factory of electric vehicles: no one got in or out. It was always parked too far away to see into and I never approached it.

I didn’t need to; Levi’s features were burned into my brain. It was too easy to picture him, his long elegant fingers draped over the steering wheel. After the insanity of today, he’d have loosened his tie and unbuttoned his top button, allowing himself a modicum of unwinding, but he’d be on alert, attuned to the slightest thing out of place. Had he raked his hands through his midnight-black strands, tufting them up into cowlicks, the skin underneath his eyes the faintest purple with exhaustion?

He would never have left riot control central if he wasn’t assured that police and firefighters had things in hand and his presence constituted a distraction. Even then, I’d bet my meagre savings that Miles had been instructed to call him if there was the slightest change in the situation.

He must be exhausted, but why come here? Did he know I was here? Had he realized what I was doing?

I white-knuckled the steering wheel.

During the day Levi and I took great pains to ignore each other. As House Head, he was still my boss, though I stayed away from HQ as much as possible, and on the rare occasion that our paths crossed, we kept up our pretense of being enemies.

Was it a pretense anymore? I no longer knew.

Mrs. Hudson’s tail thumped against the seat, her sandy-colored paws resting on the dashboard. She’d only ridden in Levi’s Tesla a few times, but somehow she always recognized her beloved’s car.

I took a swig of the heavily sweetened coffee that I’d bought at a drive-through, but no amount of sugar could clear the bitter taste from my mouth.

“No, girl. We don’t—” For fifteen years, Levi and I had waged a war of taunts and one-upmanship that was almost as fun as our verbal sparring as friends. We’d shared our scars, he’d fed me biscotti, and then he’d gifted me with a perfect brief happiness. “Levi isn’t for us anymore.”

Usually the pug ignored me to continue straining at the window, but tonight, she gave up. She huffed a little doggie sigh and sank onto the passenger seat, her head on her paws in a gesture of defeat.

Blood pounded in my ears, a tightness surging up through my ribcage. He’d broken my puppy. And that was just too much; I put my hand on the car door and pushed it open. Maybe this was stupid or too rash. I didn’t care.

I eased out of the car, tucked my dark wavy hair up under a black knit cap, and slid thin gloves on my hands. I left my familiar leather jacket in the car, shivering slightly against the cool breeze. Resolutely ignoring the Tesla and what its occupant might be thinking, I made my way into Isaac’s backyard.

A couple weeks ago, I’d mapped out a route onto the garage roof and along a decorative ledge that ran right under a bathroom window. In my experience, the majority of people didn’t lock bathroom windows on the upper floors. If Isaac did? No harm, no foul.

If not? One quick search of his study and then I’d go.

Thanks to my enhanced strength, I hoisted myself up with relatively little difficulty. My right thigh with the years-old injury throbbed in a token protest, but I compensated by relying more on my upper body. Flattening myself against the side of the house I inched along the ledge, impressed at the garden, which shimmered silver with night-blooming plants, and counted off windows until I’d reached the fourth one.

The sash was sticky and the angle from which I attempted to ease it open was awkward, so I took it slow, careful not to make any noise or break the glass.

There was the faintest squeak of the gate hinge and a figure slipped silently into the backyard. Moonlight illuminated Levi’s face as if it were broad daylight.

My chest grew tight. No amount of wishing turned Levi’s eyes from this cold wintry blue, his expression schooled into an unreadable mask, to that mesmerizing deep navy right before he would kiss me, back when I was the center of his universe.

I swayed. My foot slipped and I crashed to the ledge on my knee, clinging to the windowsill by the tips of my fingers.

Levi took a step forward, then stopped. There had been a brief period of time when I could have fallen, secure that he’d catch me.

A muscle twitched in my jaw. I pulled myself up and adjusted my hold on the window frame, sliding it up to allow me entrance. Hauling myself into the bathroom, I admonished myself that I wouldn’t look back. Again.

He was gone.

Chapter2

Leaving my boots under the clawfoot bathtub, I snuck down the hallway to Isaac’s study, knowing its location from a previous visit here. The night everything had gone to hell.

But I’d climbed out of hell before, hadn’t I? I could do it again. And this time I had a war to win.

Slipping inside his office, I flicked on a penlight, half-covering the beam to mute the light. The room smelled faintly of a peppery spice. Search as I might, there were no architectural oddities concealing a hidden space. I shook out every one of the dozen or so books on the shelves and rummaged through the contents of the unlocked drawers, but failed to find a helpful villainous plan written in the blood of his enemies.

A pair of sharp red daggers had somehow appeared in my hands, despite me having no recollection of making them. I tucked them into my leather belt and sat down in Isaac’s springy desk chair.

The chair didn’t tower over the other seats, which would have created a subtle psychological power dynamic. No awards lauding Isaac’s greatness crowded the walls. Behind his desk was a watercolor of a forest here in the Pacific Northwest that didn’t signify much. Nothing in the space indicated aspirations of godhood.

According to all the digging we’d done on him in the past couple of months, Isaac was a respected member of the business community. Public personas were like curated spaces, and Isaac had perfected his. I admired the intelligence it took to maintain this flawless image, but one’s home was another matter entirely. This study was his inner sanctum, so where were his tells?

A half-smoked cigar had been extinguished in a crystal ashtray on his desk next to an empty tumbler and a couple of newspapers in a neat stack. I sniffed the drink. Bourbon. A glass of expensive alcohol and a cigar before bed while perusing the day’s headlines. Isaac was tech-savvy: he’d have been more than comfortable getting his news online. This smacked of ritual.

He liked his rituals; that much I knew from his habitual care of his wind-up clock engraved with a quote from the Old Testament that was tied to his code name. If he’d gotten it when he became one of the Ten, then he’d hidden his Chariot activities for years. That took an ironclad ruthlessness.

Isaac had played his games for a long time, using and discarding pieces as he saw fit. Outmaneuvering him would be delicious.

I ran the light over the top page of the half-folded international business section, curious about which of the fairly dry articles interested him, when a discolored patch caught my eye. I pulled off my gloves, and touched a finger to the sticky paper, sniffing it to verify that the stain was bourbon.

Why had Isaac spilled his drink? The story was a brief piece on the death of Deepa Anand, a Mundane woman in Bangalore, India, in her fifties, who owned a string of private finance companies, aka money lenders. It briefly discussed her role in the inflated interest rate scandal that had rocked the country a few years back, and that she’d died suffering complications from heart disease while on pilgrimage at a place called Char Dham.

Flicking off the penlight, I leaned back in Isaac’s chair, twirling his cigar butt between my fingers and turning over the potential importance of this article. What if each of the Ten contributed something to Chariot, like how my teammates contributed to our mission? Isaac would be in charge of cybersecurity, just like Priya. Deepa would have been able to provide private funding and easily launder money.

Chariot may have had the power and reach of a global corporation, but it wasn’t actually a single entity. It was more akin to a consortium of interests, some legal, most not, presided over by the Ten. Our side had unearthed only a handful of their ventures, mostly the illegal ones. The few legal companies we suspected were tied to Chariot were mired in confusing paperwork trails and shell companies within shell companies. Even Priya and all her hacking skills found them impossible to untangle.

I stiffened at a creak outside the door, straining to hear footfalls, but it was the house settling. If Deepa was a member of the Ten, my Attendant, Rafael Behar, would be ecstatic at learning her identity. It could prove a valuable new direction to find Chariot’s one piece of the Sefer Raziel HaMalakh.

This mystic text written by the archangel Raziel had broken into five scrolls when it first fell to earth. Should Chariot get their hands on the rest of them and reassemble the book, they’d have the means to attain immortality, reshaping the world as living gods who cared only about themselves.

As I slipped into the darkened hallway, a figure stepped from the shadows. I palmed one of my blades. No one in this house knew I had magic, and I didn’t have a reasonable explanation for being in this room. If this was my coming out party, only one of us was going to be alive at the end to celebrate.

A fragile-looking woman stood there clutching her bathrobe with her mouth hanging open.

Nicola Montefiore was trapped in a marriage with the brute, but I couldn’t allow her to sound the alarm.

There was a loud snore from the bedroom, startling us both. Shaking her head vigorously, Nicola pressed a finger to her lips and motioned for me to go. Could I trust her not to rat me out? Did I have a choice?

I sighed. I wasn’t going to hurt Levi’s mom. Making the daggers vanish, I fled into the bathroom, grabbed my boots, and slipped back into the night, retracing my steps down to the backyard. My footsteps quickened when I came around the front of the house. I had a potential lead and best of all, the Tesla was gone.

I’d reached Moriarty and safety when someone grabbed me from behind.

My body reacted before my brain could, my fingers gripping Levi’s biceps. His suit jacket was soft to the touch, but his muscles were corded steel. In my mind’s eye they rippled, Levi’s naked body poised above mine, and a devilish grin on his face as he thrust into me.

Swallowing, I jerked sideways. Levi had made me believe in a foolish, wonderful future, and then taken it away, leaving this gaping emptiness. Priya was wrong about rage. It wasn’t unhealthy. It was what kept me buoyant when beneath me all was dark and deadly, threatening to pull me under.

“What the hell were you doing?” he hissed.

I stepped back against his oaky amber scotch and chocolate magic scent, but in our time together, he’d marked me, body and soul. There was no escaping him. “Take a wild guess.”

Mrs. Hudson barreled out of the car, almost falling out in a somersault, her leash tangling between her feet in her haste to get to Levi.

“If you’d been caught? What then?” He bent down to scratch her behind one ear and the puppy’s leg thumped in doggie delight.

“Were you worried about me or the repercussions for the House?” I said.

“I’m always worried about my House.”

While I wouldn’t necessarily enjoy punching him in the throat, the idea held more appeal than, say, going home, putting on pj’s, and flaking out in front of Netflix. “I’m aware of your priorities.”

Levi motioned to his parents’ house. “And I’m aware of yours.”

His smile was sharp. I balanced on that same knife’s edge, my every gesture ruthlessly cutting those who mattered most. His eyes glinted; he wanted me to slash back.

What good would it do for both of us to die by a thousand tiny cuts?

“So long as we’re both clear.” I grabbed Mrs. Hudson’s leash to herd her back into the car.

“Crystal.”

I didn’t watch him leave.

After a quick walk around the block back home for the pug to do her business, I crashed hard, only to awake groggily at a shrill ringing. My bedroom was totally dark, which meant it was early afternoon. I fumbled for my phone, wiping phantom grit off my face. What day was it? Processing… right. Thursday.

Mrs. Hudson was nowhere to be seen, so Priya, the puppy hog, had her.

“Hello?” I mumbled.

“Ashira, I need to speak with you now.”

I shook my head to clear the cobwebs because Talia sounded uncharacteristically agitated. “What’s wrong?”

“Not on the phone.”

“You want me to come to your office?” I said.

“No!”

Talia was scared I’d out myself in the middle of her workplace when I’d done nothing but show restraint and consideration for her position. My own mother didn’t trust me. I kicked my covers onto the floor.

“My office,” I said. “Half an hour.” I jumped out of bed, already grabbing clothes, and got dressed in record time, spending five minutes looking for my car keys before finding them in my boot. Damn dog.

I hustled out the door, ignoring the other apartment belonging to Arkady Choi, the person formally known as my friend and neighbor. I wasn’t speaking to Arkady, since I had yet to discover what he was lying to me about and he had yet to confess, but he was still a member of Team Jezebel.

Technically.

We’d decided to keep him on. Well, Rafael and Priya had decided, and I’d reluctantly agreed after they’d worn me down. However, there hadn’t been much for him to do. Rafael and I did all the surveillance work on Isaac, so I hadn’t seen much of Arkady, which was fine by me.

Shockingly, Moriarty cut me a break, given my haste, and started with only a minor complaint.

City crews had worked diligently to clear debris off the streets, but evidence of the riot was very much present in the boarded-up windows, bent and missing street signs, one burned-out husk of a car, and the workers installing a new front door on my office building.

I quickly checked in with the game design owners, confessing my role in the destruction of their laptops. They were happy to have the mystery solved of why they’d shown up this morning to find a man asleep across their doorway, who’d bolted awake, wide-eyed, threatening any who passed like a demented Gandalf. They also assured me that their insurance would take care of any damages.

None of the other offices on the ground level or the second floor had been disturbed, I was pleased to note.

Talia waited for me in the reception area of the shared workspace where Cohen Investigations was located. She twisted the hem of her raw silk blazer, her eyes wide and haunted.

My stomach lurched and I hurried to unlock my office. “What happened?”

She sank into the chair across from my desk and pushed her phone to me with trembling hands.

I hit play on the video and gasped. It was footage of me at the aquarium gala the night my magic manifested. The recording showed me pinning Levi down and holding a knife to him, but from the angle, you couldn’t see that I’d also created that dagger from my blood.

I played it three more times, ruthlessly examining it for what it actually revealed. The video didn’t even show that I had enhanced strength because I’d jumped off him so quickly. “It appears that I threatened Levi with a knife. There is no proof of my abilities and all the records state otherwise.”

Levi had destroyed the House registration application when I started working for him, so there wasn’t even that.

Talia half-laughed, half-sobbed. “They know. Look at the text that came with it.”

It was from an unknown number. If you don’t step down from the party, I will reveal that your daughter is a Rogue. You have ten days to resign. Choose your futur wisely.

They’d left the “e” off future. No one blackmailed my mother, especially not some illiterate douchebag. And why ten days? That seemed rather generous. Didn’t blackmailers usually have a three-day rule? I checked the calendar. My deadline was June 14.

Someone out there was aware that I had magic but had sat on that fact until now. Who? And why? If this was Chariot’s doing, why make Talia resign when Isaac was an ardent supporter?

What if it was someone much closer? I fast-forwarded through the video one more time. What would Arkady have to gain in blackmailing Talia like this? If he intended to undermine me, there were far easier methods. Given all he knew about Jezebels, he could sell me out to Chariot no problem. I copied the text message down. Was this some misguided attempt to protect Levi? That didn’t make sense either. Despite Levi’s many issues with Talia, he’d never condone blackmail to take her down.

If this wasn’t coming from someone with a vendetta against me…

“Do you have any enemies?” I said.

“The entire Nefesh community,” she said flatly.

“Most Nefesh have no idea who you are or that you wrote that bill. Whoever sent this is attempting to use me against you. It feels personal.”

“There’s no one. My life isn’t a television show of secrets and scandal.” She stuffed the phone in her purse. “At least it wasn’t until recently.”

She was scared and upset. I made allowances for that and swallowed my sarcastic retort.

“What do I tell them?” she said.

“Nothing. Don’t respond. They don’t have proof, but if you reply it looks like you have something to hide. I’ll take care of this. I promise.”

“Your magic is going to cost me everything.” Her naked pain undid me.

“Mom.” I reached for her.

She shook her head, her hands up, and walked away, leaving nothing behind but the scent of her rose perfume.

We’d been doing so well. Sure, our relationship was built on a heavy helping of avoidance, but our weekly breakfasts were actually enjoyable. She’d even walked Mrs. Hudson with me along the seawall a couple of times. I rubbed my temples, feeling like a grenade had been lobbed into my day.

The only saving grace was that the pin had not been pulled. Yet.

I phoned Rafael to tell him about Deepa. He was pleased with my findings and agreed that this might be the break we needed. Happy that the day seemed to be turning around, I hung up, intending to contact Priya to get any dirt on the dead woman. Much of Pri’s time had been taken up with House business lately, but she could never say no to some good old-fashioned fun unearthing dirty secrets.

That’s when Nicola Montefiore walked into my office and said, “I want to hire you.”

So much for catching a break. In the back of my head, a pin slipped out from a grenade.

Ka-boom.

Chapter3

Instead of answering, I put a finger to my lips and shut down my phone, motioning for her to do the same. Who knew what tabs Mr. Cybersecurity kept on his wife?

For good measure, I locked up both of our cells in Eleanor’s office, along with my laptop to really nail that paranoia. The graphic designer wasn’t in, but we had each other’s keys. Feeling that I’d secured our environment as best as I could, I returned to my office and indicated Nicola should speak.

“I want to leave Isaac.”

I opened and closed my mouth several times in an excellent guppy impersonation. “Mrs. Montefiore⁠—”

“Nicola, please.” Levi’s mother had always struck me as a quiet woman, slight of frame and backbone. Today her spine was ramrod straight, and there was a determined set to her chin and the tone of her Italian-accented words.

“Did something happen last night?” Had Isaac found out about my nocturnal visit and taken out his anger on his wife? “Are you in physical danger if you remain in your house?”

“No. Isaac has never laid a hand on me, but…” She fiddled with the artfully knotted scarf around her neck. “I don’t know what that scroll was that I found when I was cleaning out Levi’s old bedroom a couple of months ago, but I know it’s important.” She gave a very Italian shrug of her shoulders. “Why else would it be hidden?”

Why else, indeed?

“But it was not put there by Isaac. He didn’t know about Levi’s hiding spot, and even if he did, he would never have used it.” Her coral-painted mouth twisted. “You know about Isaac and Levi.”

Interesting that she hadn’t phrased that as a question. “I do.”

She nodded. “Levi didn’t put it there either. How would he have gotten hold of something like that when he was a child? And now, he is a man with his own home.”

“Yeah,” I said, more wistfully than I intended.

“You know something about this. You can help.” Oh shit. Nicola going down the path of this scroll and using it as some justification to finally escape Isaac’s clutches was dangerous.

“I’m working exclusively for an insurance company and no longer take on domestic cases.” I scribbled a phone number down on a sticky note. “I highly recommend this divorce lawyer. She can assist you in finding some way to leave⁠—”

“It was…” Nicola pursed her lips, then sighed. “It was Adam, wasn’t it?”

“Adam?” My voice was reedy, my smile more of a grimace.

“Sì. That’s the only thing I can think of. He hid the scroll when he came to see Isaac that night. Many years ago. The last time I ever saw your father.”

My mouth fell open. “H-how?”

She smiled, the amusement lighting her face making her look so much like her son that I had to briefly look away. “Everyone always underestimates the wives and mothers, but we know more than we let on, bella.”

I tapped my pen against my thigh, my thoughts going a million miles an hour. She didn’t understand the significance of the scroll. Did she know Isaac belonged to Chariot? It was true that it would never have occurred to me to talk to her about this, but she’d lived with the man for years. She wasn’t oblivious, in the same way that Talia had known about the nurse’s complaint about my magic after my car accident, and yet that had never occurred to me, either.

“Does the word ‘Chariot’ mean anything to you?” I said.

Nicola shook her head, her brown eyes unclouded and her expression guileless. “No. Is that connected?”

“Forget you ever heard it.” It came out more harshly than I’d intended. I gentled my tone. “Please.”

“Okay, ragazza. Will you help me? I can’t live with him anymore. My son has already been so hurt and now he’s heartbroken.”

I snapped the pen in half. “That’s not relevant.”

“It is to me. That man”—her tone was laced with vitriol and her eyes darkened—“has done enough damage. To both of us. I’m done. Basta.” She slashed a hand across the top of her head.

Nicola was the picture of resolve. With or without me, she was doing this. Isaac had killed my father for leaving him, so I’d have to be very careful history didn’t repeat itself.

When it came to Chariot and betrayal, one strike and you were out. Permanently. That went double for Isaac and his abandonment issues.

Nicola was going to live a long and happy life.

Levi would hate me, but I was one of the few people who knew what Isaac was truly up to and could keep her from accidentally blundering into something that could put her life in peril. She stood a better chance of navigating this minefield with me than without me.

“I’ll help,” I said.

Her body went limp with relief and my heart ached.

“Where do you want me to start?” Generally, spouses came to me about infidelity, sometimes fraud. I was very curious how she would answer.

“Find this thing he’s so obsessed with so I can get half. I want him to know what I took from him.”

I swallowed a hysterical laugh. The only thing Isaac wanted was the four scrolls in Team Jezebel’s possession to achieve immortality, and you couldn’t exactly go halvsies on them in divorce court. Except she knew Levi had a scroll, and she didn’t mention it specifically, so what was she referring to?

She must have seen my hesitation because she leaned forward, her hands splayed on my desk. “You were looking for a clue to the same thing last night, yes? The bamah?”

“The what now?” I couldn’t even look it up since my cell and laptop were in Eleanor’s office.

“Bamah. A few days ago, I overheard a phone call. Isaac seemed to be learning about this for the first time. He got extremely agitated and has been going crazy trying to find it ever since.”

If this bamah was important to Isaac, then it had become very important to me. Especially if it was also connected to this Deepa woman.

“Do you know anything else about it?” I grabbed another pen.

“He said it was chiuso… Come se dice?” She made expansive hand gestures with her words. “Closed.”

I jotted that fact down. “It might not turn out to be anything you can use to leave Isaac,” I said, “but one way or another, I’ll get you out of that situation.” She reached for her purse but I waved her off. “No. Please. I can’t take your money.”

I’ll take your son’s. I couldn’t trust normal modes of communication to get hold of Nicola, in case Isaac had bugged her phone, so Levi would have to be the go-between. And wouldn’t that conversation be the cherry on the shit sundae of our last encounter?

After retrieving our phones and my laptop, I gave Nicola instructions that I’d get hold of her via Levi, and pressed upon her the importance of going about her normal routine until she heard back from me.

“I’ve survived him this long. I’ll be careful. And Ashira?” Nicola squeezed my hand. “I don’t know what happened to Adam, but if Isaac had anything to do with it? Mi dispiace.”

“Not your fault,” I said, my throat thick.

“Please don’t let the past dictate your future.” She looked out the window, her gaze distant. “Don’t wake up one day and realize you threw away your life, your happiness, because you were scared.”

You’re talking to the wrong person, lady. “Wouldn’t want that,” I said.

Once she’d left, I sank into my comfy desk chair, my head in my hands. Stupid fucking universe determined to shove me in Levi’s path. This wasn’t a romcom.

People always underestimated the wives and mothers. Had Nicola put this bamah, the scroll, and my father together, and come up with one private investigator with a vested interest? Even if she’d manipulated me into helping her, her relief at my agreement had been real. I couldn’t go back on my word.

I exhaled slowly. Suck it up, Ash.

Levi’s phone went to voicemail, so who did I want to call for his whereabouts? Evil or the lesser of evils? I wasn’t up to sparring with Levi’s pet dragon today, so lesser of evils it was.

I hit speed dial. “Hello, Miles. It’s your friendly neighborhood Jezebel.”

“And what had already been a stressful day has now devolved into an extremely shitty one. Wonderful,” he said dryly.

“Sadly, I think that’s less a function of how delightful I am and more an issue that you need to get a life. Where’s His Lordship?”

Silence.

“Hello? Miles?” I switched over to speaker phone, put my cell on my desk and clicked on my mouse to bring my laptop to life. What was a bamah?

“You’ve gone out of your way to avoid him for two months,” he said. “Why are you looking for him now?”

“We talked about your unhealthy interest in my life. Also, I haven’t gone out of my way to do anything where he’s concerned. That would imply a level of caring I no longer possess.”

There was a rush of static and a sigh. When Miles finally spoke, his voice was far softer. “Are you going to hurt him again?”

I scoffed to cover the pain that caused me. “If I told you, that would take the fun unpredictability factor out of it. Also, fuck you. I have a case that he needs to be advised on stat.”

According to Ye Wise Old Internet, a bamah was the Hebrew word for a place of worship. The angel feather had been buried at one of Asherah’s sites near the archeological dig that Omar Tannous had worked on. Did Nicola mean buried and not closed? Could there be another important artifact that Chariot believed was hidden at a bamah, like our scrolls? And what, if anything, did Deepa’s death have to do with it?

“Is this something I should know about?” Miles said.

“It is, but you’ll have to get in line. Levi should be told first.”

Miles chewed that over for a moment. “Come to HQ. And tell Rafael. There’s another matter to discuss with everyone.”

“You going to give me a heads-up on what?”

“Nope. Levi’s office in half an hour.” He hung up before I could protest the location.

It was just a room and I was a professional. Any memories I had of it were irrelevant, and nothing to do with the circuitous route I took to get there.

House Pacifica was the same deep crimson color that it had been for the past two months. I turned into the parking garage, shifting uncomfortably. There was no proof it was a mood ring tied to Levi and even if it was, it wasn’t my problem.

Up on the seventh floor, I strode past the artwork hung on pale gold walls and leaned on the counter of Levi’s Executive Assistant’s reception desk.

“Verrrroooniiiiicaaaa,” I sang, enjoying her grimace.

The blonde woman, impeccable as always in a houndstooth skirt and cream blouse, stood up and crossed her arms. “You are not going to distract him. He has a very important meeting in ten minutes.”

“I know. I’m part of it.”

She groaned. “No. Go back to not speaking to him again. I liked that.” She fiddled with one of her pearl earrings.

I smirked and pointed at her hand. “You have a terrible tell. Never play poker. Admit it, Levi’s been a bastard without me around.”

“Miles doesn’t know when to shut up.” She flipped through a pile of documents, adding “sign here” stickers to certain pages. “Well, Levi isn’t here yet. Wait in the reception area.”

“Can I…?” My voice wavered and I cleared my throat. “I think I need a minute to acclimatize before Levi arrives. Can I wait in there?” Confronted with the prospect of going inside, my blithe confidence wavered.

Veronica had been there the last time I’d visited the office, after I’d learned of my father’s murder. She’d shown compassion then. I hoped she would now.

She peeled off another sticker, a muscle ticking in her jaw, and I braced myself for a “no.” Something of my dismay must have shone through because her stern expression softened and she relented with a nod. “Touch anything and die.”

“And give you the satisfaction? Hardly.”

I hesitated for a moment in the doorway, because Levi’s unique magic scent permeated the air. The last time I’d visited, there’d been Sherlock Holmes books on the coffee table and that stupid lock he’d been so excited to have me teach him how to pick.

Every trace of me had been systematically removed. Even the sofa where Levi had comforted me after I learned of my dad’s murder had been replaced with a model that was similar, but not quite up to the charm of the original.

I sat down on the memory-free furniture, my head bowed and my forearms braced on my thighs. Moving on was one thing, but Levi had erased me. Why was it so easy for him?

Irritating pinging sounds grew closer.

“Ark, enough,” Miles said outside the office. “That sound is drilling into my brain.”

“My unicorns don’t stab the cherubs as effectively if I can’t hear them impaled.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Miles said.

“One more level, babe,” Arkady replied.

“That’s what you said last night.”

His boyfriend gave him a lopsided grin as they entered. “As I recall, your patience was handsomely rewarded.”

I cleared my throat and both men looked over.

Miles blushed and glowered in equal measure.

“Aw, you look like the love child of Grumpy and Bashful,” I said.

“Shut it, Cohen,” he said, and sat down in one of the extra chairs that had been set out for this meeting. Dayum, his glutes were so tight they didn’t even sag over the chair like a normal person’s.

Arkady, his black hair pulled back and in a T-shirt that said “Morally Flexible,” backward straddled a chair and returned to the game on his phone, not bothering with eye contact.

Letting people into your life was a shell game, and trust was the little ball being shuffled around. It didn’t matter how smart you were, how closely you kept your eye on the ball; at some point, you’d lift up the cup only to find empty air.

I’d known that, but I’d allowed Priya’s optimistic beliefs to influence me otherwise.

My bestie arrived next with Mrs. Hudson. Priya picked non-existent lint off her polka-dotted wrap dress. “Are you finished being a little bitch?”

I reached for the dog but Priya pulled her out of repossession range. “Yeah. Sorry I hung up on you.”

“Sorry I poked shit you didn’t want poked.” Priya unclipped Mrs. Hudson from her leash.

Mrs. Hudson barked joyously, immediately sniffing around.

A flurry of chimes went off and Arkady punched the air. “Nailed you, sucker.”

Priya ruffled his hair. “Oh, you sad, sad junkie.”

“Don’t be jealous that you couldn’t get past level two.” He slung an arm around her waist. “We can’t all be brilliant unicorn assassins.”

Mock-affronted, Priya knuckled the top of his head.

I pressed my lips tight, not wondering at all about the dumb app they played together, and moved over so Pri could sit on the sofa.

Rafael hurried in, his cheeks pink with exertion, holding two mugs wafting Earl Grey–scented steam. He handed one to Pri. “I thought, perhaps, you could use this pick-me-up.”

Her face lit up and she took the drink from him. “Thank you. That’s so sweet.”

“What about me?” I said.

He frowned. “Don’t you usually drink coffee?”

“Lovely of you to notice. Did you bring me one?”

“I—uh—no?” Whose Attendant was he anyway?

Levi entered at that moment and shut the door. Rafael gave him a grateful glance and squished in between Priya and me.

“Everyone’s here.” Levi exuded haughtiness in his sharp black suit and slicked-back hair. “Good.” He strode over to his desk, ribbing Arkady and Miles about their shit taste in some movie they’d dragged him to, teasing Priya about her caffeine consumption, and even asking Rafael if he’d enjoyed that restaurant Levi had suggested the other day.

New furniture, new friend group—my, His Lordship had been busy. I dug my boot heel against the couch to leave a black mark.

Levi could keep Miles. However, even if I was pissed at Arkady, he’d been my friend, not Levi’s, so Montefiore had no business going to movies with him, regardless of Arkady’s relationship with Miles. As for Priya and Rafael? They were right out as anything other than Levi’s professional acquaintances.

I calmed down with my alphabetizing technique.

Asphyxiation, bludgeoning, choking, decapitation… my spirits were lifting already. “Is this or is this not a work meeting?” I said. “Because I have things to do.”

“That’s right. Your noble calling leaves little room for relationships.” Levi tugged his cuffs straight.

“And yet, how nice to be a man of leisure and have all the time in the world for them.”

Miles and Arkady shot me displeased looks at insulting Levi, but Priya and Rafael covered smiles, which cheered me up immeasurably.

Levi’s lips quirked and my heart leapt. It was almost like the old days, trading barbs and smirking at each other. Or, like playing at a magician’s booth, tracking the ball as it sped from cup to cup, and feeling certain of your choice. But I’d lifted the cup without the ball under it yet again, because he wiped his expression carefully blank, nodded, and said, “Let’s begin.”

Chapter4

To add insult to injury, Mrs. Hudson scampered over to Levi, pawing at the hem of his trousers.

I crossed over to grab her, just as Levi bent down. Our hands brushed and a tingle went up my arm.

Without looking at me, he handed me the dog, who whined softly. “As most of you know,” he said, “for the past two months, I’ve attempted to find proof tying Jackson Wu to the money laundering in Hedon.”

He had? From the others’ expressions, this was only news to Rafael and me.

“The contact there, Luca Bianchi, has been deemed off-limits by the Queen,” Levi said, “and the team led by Priya and Miles haven’t uncovered any irregularities in this company’s accounting practices.”

Priya made a frustrated noise. “They’ve hidden their tracks well.”

She’d moved from overhauling House cybersecurity to this? Why hadn’t she said anything?