Page 66 of Villains Never Die

the hubris of magic

one evil with seven faces

wait 4 your demise, 5alvation denied

and 1nce the sword of justice appears

“Wesley has the most to gain from killing off people in the way of his representative position,” he said. “I don’t trust the asshole.”

“I don’t trust anyone on the Council.”

“You don’t trust anyone.”

I steadied myself with a breath and grasped his forearm. My eyes stayed on the paper, hiding from whatever expression he was about to make.

“I trust you.”

He shifted my arm so he could hold my hand and squeeze it.

“The number thing is still weird.”

“I don’t know what it means, but whoever was in Emmett’s office had keys to access the building late at night.”

His fingers were still on mine, his thumb making lazy trails along my knuckles.

“Do you still think you’re on the list?” he asked.

“He followed me home a few nights ago.”

“Jesus fuck, why didn’t you call me?” He turned me sharply and held on to both my arms.

“I didn’t know about it until later.” I let the next choice make itself before I could stop it. “I can hear the voices of people who have died. They told me.”

“But they can’t tell you who he is?”

I scoffed. “The dead are…fickle. Half the time they’re useless, and they said they don’t know who he is.” His eyes were bright and burrowing, full of questions, but I wasn’t sure which ones. “You’re not freaking out about me hearing voices.”

His hands dropped and one side of his mouth lifted in a tempting smirk. “It sounds more normal than having thirteen lives.”

“Death latched on and wouldn’t let go,” I said, “but that’s a story for another time.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

When Rook invited me to watch a fight, he promised that Saturdays were the most exciting night of the week.

“Watching men knock each other out isn’t really my cup of tea,” I’d said.

“No, but seeing me afterward is.” He’d attempted one of his cheeky grins, but there was something longing in his eyes. “It’s the only way I’ll get to see you tonight.”

Which was why I now stood in Rook’s club suffering other people’s body heat and a cloud of smoke wafting from cigarettes and cigars. I didn’t much care what was going on inside the cage, so I sat at a table sipping a drink I didn’t pay for. I’m not sure what Rook said to his staff or threatened them with, but the bartender recognized me immediately and gave back the money I tried to pay with.

“You’re all set,” he said.

From my seat near the bar, I could hear the screams, grunts, and rattling metal of the fighters’ battle. Rook had mentioned there were fights that involved more than two people tonight, and I suspected that was the cacophony of violence I heardblasting from the cage, so loud it could be heard even over the roaring crowd. The fight was long and messy, if the two men carried out and wheeled elsewhere in the building on stretchers were any indication.

In the break between fights, others filled the tables around me, drinking and chatting. Rook took a break too, emerging from a door at the top of a set of stairs that looked over the cage. That must have been his office. As he stepped into the main room, a few people stopped him to say hello or congratulate him on the excellent fight, but he gave them only half his attention. The other half was scanning, searching.

For me, I realized, when our eyes locked for half a second as he passed by to talk to the bouncer at the door. He made no expression, nor did he greet me, but the heat and recognition blazing in his eyes were enough to satisfy me. He knew I was there, and he had plans for me afterward.