Page 79 of Villains Never Die

“Where is Gray?” I asked.

“He isn’t answering his phone. Maybe with one of hisfriends.”

I thought my throat might close up. Gray enjoyed his unserious trysts, but never enough to slack on his duties. He always put work first. If he wasn’t the first person to know about the fire, something was wrong.

“I’ll be there in ten minutes,” I croaked through the strain in my throat. I hung up and tossed on the first clothes I found in my laundry hamper, then ran to the parking garage.

It was a twenty-minute drive to the warehouse during the day, but the clear nighttime streets and fifteen miles over the speed limit got me there in ten.

The fire was half doused by three of my men who were trying to use magic before the human fire company realized what was happening, but the damage had already been done. The roof had collapsed in places and smoke billowed from the gaping hole it left. All the windows on the front of the building had blown out and glass scattered across the sidewalk, reflecting the blaze that fought back against their magic.

And Gray wasn’t among them. My warehouse was destroyed and he wasn’t there. No, Gray always dealt with my problems. He was the person I trusted most to fix a disaster.

The cold inside me burned.

The main door to the warehouse hung limply from its hinges and I dashed toward it.

“Austin!” someone yelled, but I couldn’t stop. Even the heat as I entered the building couldn’t melt that dreadful chill.

Inside, the flames they fought had been contained to one corner of the building, but the front was already destroyed. Half my inventory gone, and probably another quarter so smoke-damaged that I wouldn’t be able to sell it.

And in the middle of the charred room, a body, still and sooty.

Gray was free of burns, but he reeked of smoke and there was a fine dusting of debris over his clothes and face. I fell to my knees at his side and shook him.

“Gray! Gray, wake up!”

His chest did not rise. He should have coughed, grimaced, and struggled to sit. He should have been injured and in need of a healer.

But he was dead.

I pushed at his body again anyway, begging him to wake the fuck up. The remaining flames at my back hissed and went out, and more of the roof fell in after them.

Gray did not move.

Gone. Gone. Gone.

“I know he’s fucking gone!” I roared at the dead. “Why can’t you just leave me alone?!”

A quiet so absolute it rang in my ears followed. For once, the spirits who haunted me scattered like startled birds, abandoning me to the emotion that slowly entwined itself with the cold.

Grief.

This was not Gray’s time, and Death came for him anyway. Just like my mother. I realized, as I knelt before his empty body, that I had faced curses, bullets, bold foes, and dying.

But caring about anything was the most dangerous thing in the world.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Rook’s fists still slammed against the heavy bag at four in the morning. Sweat soaked the back of his white t-shirt and he didn’t look up until the cage door groaned as it opened behind him.

“Austin,” he said. His eyes widened and whatever he meant to say next thinned and got lost in the humid air between us.

I stumbled two steps toward him, looked down at the soot on my hands, and then back to his face. Pale. The sight of me drained all the blood from his features. He closed the rest of the distance between us and placed a steadying hand on each of my elbows.

“Gray’s dead,” I rasped.

He cursed under his breath and didn’t bother asking if I was okay. I wouldn’t be here like this—a stumbling mess—if I were. He knew that.