Mortal Danger (Page 82)

“I’ll bear that in mind. Thank you.”

Once he left, the new apartment seemed very quiet. I wasn’t used to the noises in this place, the humming fridge or the creak of the neighbors walking around upstairs. After turning the deadbolt and latching the chain, I retreated to the bedroom, the type where grown-ups argued, fought, and complained bitterly over the ashes of their failed ambitions. I’d never slept in a queen bed for more than a few nights when we traveled.

“So all this is mine now, huh?”

And here you are, talking to yourself.

I hadn’t talked to Vi since it happened, and her e-mails were now verging on panic. Though this was the last thing I wanted to do, I pinged her on Skype. She answered on the second beep, disheveled, frowning in worry. “You okay?”

“No,” I said.

In the baldest words possible, I told her. Now it’s real. I have to live with it.

“Oh God, Edie, I’m so sorry. Let me talk to my parents. I bet they’d let me come to Boston for the weekend. I don’t know what I can do, but I really want to be with you.”

Tears spilled out. I had no control, only a broken overflow valve. I was so tempted to say yes, but seeing her would hurt more. Vi could be here, safe, and my mother wasn’t. I could’ve used a favor to save her, but I didn’t know I needed to. Not fully understanding how far the players would take the game—that was my mistake, and I had to live with it.

Taking a deep breath, I shook my head. “Not right now. Things are really unsettled.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I don’t think my dad could handle visitors.”

“Oh, right. I should’ve thought of that.”

“I have to go.”

“Okay. Call me if you need anything.”

“Thanks. I will.”

It was early, but I went to bed after talking to Vi. The new apartment permitted me to sleep without dreaming, and in the morning, guilt stormed my battlements. I failed the saving throw and cried in the shower, trying to be quiet so my dad wouldn’t hear. After pulling myself together somewhat, I put on my uniform and found him already in the kitchen. No oatmeal this morning—we might never eat it again, because it was my mom’s favorite breakfast food: steel cut, hearty, topped with brown sugar, crushed walnuts, butter, and raisins. He served me a fried egg sandwich instead, and I ate it, mostly because he must’ve run out to get a few groceries from the corner store before I even woke up.

“Thanks,” I said.

“Have a good day at school.”

We both knew that was unlikely, but if I didn’t play along with his determined pretense, then we both might start crying and go back to bed. While it sounded appealing, as a long-term coping strategy, it had little to recommend it. I trudged out the front door and down the station, ten minutes farther than before. The numbness was wearing off, so my mother’s loss throbbed like a rotten tooth.

Teachers treated me with kid gloves at school. So did the student body. Apart from Davina, it was like I had a circle of sadness warding everyone off. We sat by ourselves at lunch, and she tried really hard to cheer me up. I smiled at the right moments, but I suspected she knew it didn’t help. I appreciated the attempt, but also when she stopped. Her own loss might be less recent, but Russ lingered in her eyes, a haunting of what might’ve been.

“Want to get drunk?” she asked, as we left school that afternoon.

“I don’t think it would help. We’ll catch up this weekend, okay? Thanks for coming to the service, by the way. It meant a lot to have you there.”

“You’d do the same for me.” She went toward the T while I looked for Kian.

Oddly, I didn’t find him. I waited for five minutes, then I got a text. I’m so sorry. I can’t make it today. I have something to do.

The message raised all my hackles. He was so protective, I couldn’t imagine anything short of life or death diverting him. It had to be Wedderburn … or the mysterious other he, with whom Kian had made a deal for my sake. In that moment, I made a snap decision, and I took the train downtown instead of going straight home. On the way, I sent word to my dad, so he wouldn’t worry.

I’m with Kian. Will be home for dinner.

Mom’s death had driven his concerns about whether I could be trusted back underground. Or shit, maybe if he didn’t believe me, maybe he felt like he had nothing left. Whatever the reason, he answered, I’m bringing home Japanese. You like yakimeshi, right? I smiled as I sent back, Yep.

I hurried through the front doors of Wedderburn, Mawer & Graf, where I found Iris in the lobby, working the reception desk. Today, everything was red and black instead of bisque. And as Kian had predicted, her look had shifted to match. Crimson hair cascaded past her shoulders, and her eyes gleamed like onyx. I didn’t think I was imagining the predatory light that shone in them.

“Do you have an appointment?”

“I do not. Ask if Mr. Wedderburn has time to talk to me anyway.” The honorific burned my tongue, as I’d much rather call him that ass**le or that bastard.

“Have a seat while I check.”

She radiated disapproval and kept me waiting for almost half an hour. At last she said, “You’re a lucky girl. He’ll see you now.”

“Imagine my delight.”

I had never gone upstairs on my own, and I didn’t have an employee badge or security clearance, so she tapped on her keyboard, then gave me a slip of paper. “Don’t lose this.” Her tone implied I was an imbecile, likely to do precisely that.

Ignoring her, I hurried to the elevator before I lost my nerve. Remembering how Kian did it before, I entered the code and pressed my desired floor. The elevator accepted the security check and away I went. The motion pushed my stomach up into my throat, so I was queasy and cold when I stepped onto Wedderburn’s floor. I thought I’d find Kian in his office, but when I entered, there was only the cold man himself, lying in wait.

In a motion that crackled like icicles spearing into the snow, he came around his desk to greet me. He seemed … jolly, and that was one of the worst things I’d ever seen. “Before you begin your business, Edie, let me convey my condolences for your loss.”

That was an unexpected blow. On some level, I grasped that he was keeping tabs on me, monitoring his investment. But I hated knowing he had seen me break down so completely. The tears I shed for my mother belonged to me and me alone. I squared my shoulders, refusing to let him get to me.