J. Ward - Lover Avenged

In this state, the club was The Wizard of Oz made obvious: All the magic that went on here night after night, all the buzz and excitement, was really just a combination of electronics, booze, and chemicals, an illusion for the people who walked through the front doors, a fantasy that allowed them to be whatever they weren’t in their day-to-day lives. Maybe they jonesed to be powerful because they felt weak, or sexual because they felt ugly, or chic and rich when they weren’t, or young when they were gaining speed on middle age. Maybe they wanted to burn off the pain of a failed relationship or get revenge over being jilted or pretend they weren’t searching for a mate when actually they were desperate for one.

Sure, they came out for “fun,” but he was damn certain that underneath the surface of all the bright and shiny, there was a whole lot of dark and seedy.

The club as it was now was the perfect metaphor for his life. He had been the Wizard, fooling those closest to him for so long, fitting in with the normals through a combination of drugs and lies and subterfuge.

That time had passed.

Rehv took one last turn around and went out the front double doors. The black-on-black ZeroSum sign was not spotlit, indicating that they were closed for the night. Closed for good was more like it.

He glanced left and right. There was no one on the street, no cars or pedestrians in sight.

He walked over and checked the alley by the side entrance that led into the VIP section and then quickly went across and looked down the other alley. No homeless. No hangers-on.

Standing in the cold wind, Rehv took a moment to sense out the buildings around the club, searching for grids that indicated there were humans in them. Nothing. All clear was right.

Ready to go, he walked across the street and down two blocks, and then he paused, slid the top of the remote down, and entered an eight-digit code.

Ten…nine…eight…

They’d find the bones burned to a crisp, and he wondered for a brief moment whose they were. iAm hadn’t said, and he hadn’t asked.

Seven…six…five…

Bella was going to be okay. She had Zsadist and Nalla and the Brothers and their shellans. It was going to be brutal on her, but she would get through it, and better this than her learning the truth that would destroy her: She didn’t need to ever know that her mother had been raped and her brother was half sin-eater.

Four…

Xhex would stay away from the colony. iAm would make sure of that, because he was going to force her to stick to the vow she’d made the night before: She’d promised to take care of someone, and the letter Rehv had written in the Old Language and made iAm witness had been the demand that she take care of herself. Yes, he’d tricked her into it. No doubt she assumed he was going to get her to kill off the princess, or maybe even watch after Ehlena. But he was a symphath, wasn’t he. And she’d made the mistake of giving her word without knowing what she was committing to.

Three…

He traced the club’s roofline with his eyes and imagined what the rubble was going to look like, not just around the club, but with what he was leaving behind in people’s lives as he went up north.

Two…

Rehv’s heart hurt like a bitch, and he knew it was because he was mourning Ehlena. Even though technically he was the one who was dying.

One…

The explosion that ignited under the main dance floor triggered two others, one under the VIP bar and one on the mezzanine’s balcony. With a tremendous thunder and a bracing quake, the building was rocked to its core, a blast of brick and vaporized cement rushing outward.

Rehvenge staggered back and banged into the glass front of a tattoo parlor. After he caught his breath, he watched the fine mist of dust drift downward like snow.

Rome had fallen. And yet it was hard to leave.

The first of the sirens rang out no more than five minutes later, and he waited for the splashes of red flashers to come down Trade Street at a dead run.

When they did, he closed his eyes, calmed himself…and dematerialized up north.

To the colony.

Ehlena?” Lusie’s voice came down the stairs. “I’m going to head out now.”

Ehlena shook herself and glanced at the time in the lower corner of the laptop screen. It was four thirty? Already? God, it felt like…well, she didn’t know whether she’d been sitting at her makeshift desk for hours or days. The Caldwell Courier Journal’s help-wanted site had been up the whole time, but all she’d been doing was making circles with her forefinger on the mouse pad.

“Here I come.” She stretched as she rose to her feet and headed for the stairs. “Thanks for cleaning up after Father’s meal.”

Lusie’s head appeared at the top of the stairs. “You’re welcome, and listen, there’s someone here to see you.”

Ehlena’s heart flip-flopped in her chest. “Who?”

“A male. I let him in.”

“Oh, God,” Ehlena said under her breath. As she jogged up from the cellar, she thought, at least her father was sleeping soundly after he’d eaten. Last thing she needed to deal with right now was him getting upset over a stranger in the house.

As she came into the kitchen, she was prepared to tell Rehv or Trez or whoever it was to go to-

A blond male with a very rich vibe stood by the cheap table, a black briefcase in his hand. Lusie was next to him, pulling on her woolen coat and getting her patchwork satchel ready for her trip home.

“May I help you?” Ehlena said with a frown.

The male did a little bow thing, with his palm going gallantly to his chest, and when he spoke, his voice was unusually low and very cultured. “I’m looking for Alyne, blooded son of Uys. Are you his daughter?”

“Yes, I am.”

“May I see him?”

“He’s resting. What’s this about, and who are you?”

The male glanced over at Lusie, then put his hand into his breast pocket and took out an ID in the Old Language. “I’m Saxton, son of Tyhm, an attorney hired by the estate of Montrag, son of Rehm. He’s recently passed unto the Fade with no direct heirs, and according to my research of the bloodlines, your father is his next of kin and therefore his sole beneficiary.”

Ehlena’s brows shot up. “Excuse me?” When he repeated what he’d said, it still didn’t sink in. “I…ah…what?”

As the lawyer took another shot at his message, her mind scrambled around, trying to connect the dots. Rehm was definitely a name she was familiar with. She’d seen it in her father’s business records…and in his manuscript. Not a nice guy. Not by a long shot. She had some vague memory of the son, but it was nothing specific, just a leftover from her days as a female of worth on the glymera debutante circuit.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, “but this is a surprise.”

“I understand. May I speak with your father?”

“He’s not…receiving, actually. He’s not well. I’m his legal guardian.” She cleared her throat. “Under the Old Law, I had to have him declared incompetent due to…mental issues.”

Saxton, son of Thym, bowed a little. “I am sorry to hear that. May I ask, would you be able to present me with bloodline identification for you both? And the declaration of incompetence?”

“I have it all downstairs.” She looked at Lusie. “I guess you need to go?”

Lusie glanced at Saxton and seemed to reach the same conclusion Ehlena did. The male seemed perfectly normal, and in his suit and coat and with that case in his hand, he positively screamed lawyer. His ID was legit, too.

“I can stay if you’d rather,” Lusie said.

“No, I’ll be fine, and besides, it’s getting close to dawn.”