Page 70 of Villains Never Die

“Then what do you propose, Candidate Lake?” asked Andrew Clark. As a human, he was the weakest of all of us, the most likely to lose his life or the lives of people he represented, should they all decide to help us.

“Strengthened legislation to keep all our problems separate, with the Ashbruck Council serving only as an intersectional point to handle larger issues that affect the supernatural peoples as a whole. Keep our own problems just that.”

“And undo two hundred years of alliance between us?” Emmett asked, his voice growing louder.

Wesley shrugged. “We needed a different alliance back then. This is 2005. Humans aren’t hunting us anymore. Most of them aren’t even aware we exist in this city, so tell me—what is the point of us bearing each other’s risks? The Council exists to mediate overarching conflicts between our communities. There is no reason for it to handle isolated issues within those communities.”

“If we don’t help each other, it sets a precedent. No one will help each other when the need arises in the future, andit weakens that intersection.” Emmett stayed obediently behind his podium, making his point from his designated place, even as Wesley stepped fully into the middle of the stage with all the flourish of a showman, or maybe a salesman. He continued his pitch, addressing the audience.

“Let’s be realistic,” he said. “We all know most of us handle our own problems already. I simply want that written into law.”

“Candidate Lake, if you would please remain at your podium,” Andrew Clark said from behind him.

“Think of your own communities,” he said, ignoring him. “Do you want to bring others’ problems into your neighborhoods, your homes?”

“Candidate Lake—”

Wesley turned halfway and raised his hands in surrender before stepping behind the podium again.

Andrew Clark placed himself between the feuding men and said, “Candidate Lake will have his proposed legislation on each representative’s desk Monday morning. Candidate Graves, you will have an opportunity to draft counter-legislation before the election. The election will be held one month from now. Dismissed.”

The people around us shuffled and whispered, as if they’d been paused and someone had pressed play, setting them back into motion. I tapped Rook on the elbow and motioned for him to follow me outside.

“It will be an interesting election,” he said once we’d stepped into the chilly air. He blew into his hands and rubbed them together. “Candidates with completely opposite goals? Some people are about to show their true colors.”

“They’ll vote for Wesley Lake,” I predicted. “People always have their own interests in mind.”

“Emmett seems to believe what he’s saying.” We fell into step as we made our way to my car and I opened the passenger door for Rook. When we were both inside, I turned on the heat.

“He has to have some kind of angle,” I said. “No one gives that many fucks about everyone else, least of all politicians.”

“We’ll see what comes out when the laws are drafted,” he said, sliding his hand across the center console to rest against my inner thigh. His fingers drifted back and forth across the seam of my pants. “You know what would be more fun than talking about politics right now?”

How did he do that, I wondered, as he kissed me and pumped my cock with his hand in the front seat of my car? How did he take anything gloomy or dull or heavy and pull me out of it with a smile, a joke, or an incredibly well-timed hand job? By the time I spilled on his fingers and we hunted through my glove box for napkins to clean up, I’d nearly forgotten how morose the Council meeting had left me.

We wiped up and buckled in, and Rook fell into his usual lazy yammering about whatever came to mind.

You need to go home. Now.

I paused halfway to putting the car in drive. Rook noticed; he seemed to notice everything I did, and when we locked eyes, I pressed one finger to my lips.

“What’s happening at home?” I asked, wondering why I was hearing about it from the dead before Gray or anyone else.

There’s a message there. Hurry.

“Your dead friends?” Rook asked when I finally set the car in motion.

“They’re not my friends.”

That’s rude.

“Well, you’re not,” I told them.

Rook laughed and shook his head. “You should see how weird this looks from my perspective.” His smile melted. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know yet. Something bad is happening back at my building.” I drove faster toward an unknown threat, contemplating how many times this had happened to me over the years. I would get a secretive message from the dead and investigate it without question. For all the ways they obscured important information, they had never steered me wrong.

And they apparently loved the idea of me and Rook, which was why it was so unsettling that they’d interrupt us for whatever waited for me at home.