Page 109 of Villains Never Die

I didn’t even finish the threat before I hit send and threw the phone back on the pillow. I stroked my fingers across my forehead. I picked up the phone again and called him.

“Austin,” he answered. “I know…at his house…he’s coming tonight…” His voice crackled through bad reception.

“What are you going on about?” I asked, alarm ringing in my chest.

“Needles everywhere…are you listening to me? …already gone. Stay in the penthouse…I get there! …wrote it down when he was working.” He blathered on, half-coherent, as his voice cut in and out.

“Fucking hell, Rook!” My voice climbed half an octave, panic bubbling into my words. “Will you move somewhere I can hear you?”

The call ended.

I redialed.

No answer.

A coffee order? Kathy was a file clerk, but even as an underpaid Council lackey, she had more important things to do than flit about gathering caffeine for the rest of the office. Unlike…

Fuck.

I called Rook six more times. The bastard never answered. I was in the middle of my seventh attempt when a whirring started outside my living room window. What in the ever loving fuck? I threw the phone again. This time it bounced off the mattress and landed on the floor.

I moved toward the window. The damn window cleaners. I was going to kill whoever authorized them to work in the middle of the night.

I was about to make it clear that they should fuck off when the glass shattered inward, spraying all over the room. Tiny shards scratched my face, drawing blood in places. The bowling ball used to smash it rolled across the floor.

My back hit the ground when he pounced on me. The owl mask came inches from my face, but I wasn’t looking at that. I focused on the syringe in his hand and not letting it pierce me.

His strength caught me off guard as he pushed against my grip, inching the needle toward my neck. But the problem with being human was that he didn’t have magic…

I blasted him back and he landed in the pile of glass on the floor. His fingers tightened around the syringe, clinging to his only weapon.

“You can take the mask off, Charles. I know it’s you.”

He swayed in place slightly—a moment of indecision—and then lifted his free hand to his chin and pulled the mask back over his head. It fell to the floor next to him with a hollow sound.

“How did you know it was me?” he asked.

“You left behind a little note—a coffee order for your coworkers. You’re stupid and sloppy. How did everyone’s little office bitch end up a serial killer?”

That syringe was still clasped tight in his gloved fist. He snarled as he said, “I’m not wasting time explaining it all to you. I’m here to kill you.”

“Oh, I don’t much care about your plan,” I said, taking a seat on the edge of the couch. “I don’t need to buy time with words. Do you really think you have a chance against a magician without sneaking up on them and drugging them?” He did that little fidget in place again, and I sighed. “I’m curious though. Why me? It has something to do with the spell I sold Clayton Pope, right?”

His frame tensed just slightly, enough that I thought he might lunge at me again, and I lifted my hand slightly, preparing to cast if I needed to.

“He killed the wrong person.”

“Who?”

“It doesn’t matter!”

“Oh, come on Charles. Entertain me. It’s been so boring waiting for you to make your move.”

“S-she was my girlfriend!” His stammer returned, and a little of the toughness he wore like another mask dribbled away.

An ill-timed little snort escaped me. “You had a girlfriend? Like a woman. The kind with tits and a—” I shook my head and laughed, standing from the couch. He raised the syringe and braced himself. I took a step toward him. “Was she pretty? You know what? It doesn’t matter. Good for you. When I kill you, I won’t have to feel bad you died a virgin.”

“She wasn’t supposed to be there!” he cried. “She was at work, just doing her job. That Pope guy was running from someone, she got in the way, and he used the spellyou sold himto murder her!”