Page 85 of Villains Never Die

Light glinted off my new chandelier as I tracked Wesley from the corner of my eye. His walk along the path to the bar was stilted as people stopped him to schmooze and ask questions. His smile was infinitely patient, though I suspected underneath it, he didn’t give a shit about any of them beyond their value as voters.

When he finally reached me, he ordered a cocktail before greeting me.

“You throw quite a party,” he said, turning on his barstool to face me.

“I try to entertain,” I said.

“I actually hate these things,” he said, “but they are good for my campaign. Thank you for the invitation.”

“Of course.” I didn’t mention that I’d invited Graves first—maybe he already knew—or that his invitation was now an excuse to keep tabs on him all night long.

He leaned against the bar on one elbow as his drink arrived and we both watched the line of people shrink at the door. “Have you considered your stance on my policies?” he asked.

“You have my vote,” I lied. One candidate wanted to exterminate my business like a cockroach and the other wanted to threaten me into submission. I wouldn’t mind if both of them ended up dead. I needed someone to dig up enough dirt on them to bury them with it, however the election ended.

That was Gray’s job. I swallowed the sharpness of it that lodged in my throat. I hadn’t even thought about needing a new assistant.

I held out a hand and Wesley shook it.

“Jesus. Your heart must be colder than I thought,” he laughed when our fingers touched. “You know, magicians used to run this whole area—before we dragged the fae into our business, before the shifters wanted more power, before we decided to pander to the poor, defenseless humans. It can be that wayagain, and people like you? You have everything to gain from it. Excuse me, I have more voters to win.” He rose and flashed me another one of those sparkling, insincere smiles, then disappeared into the throng.

Rook sauntered over a minute later, having disentangled himself from whoever he was impressing. “I’ve never seen someone radiate so much bullshit.”

“People are eating it up, though.” I scowled in the direction Wesley had gone and jumped when Rook’s fingers brushed against mine for one moment where my arm hung by my stool. When I glanced over, he smiled with just his eyes, blue and sparkling.

The night passed in polite conversation and well-placed compliments. Rook moved through the room with an amount of social grace I hadn’t realized he possessed. As I watched him enthrall my guests like he was born for it, I yearned for him. He always returned to my side, even talked me into a glass of champagne.

“To the things that surprise us,” he said, lifting his glass.

“To the things that surprise us.” Our eyes met over the rims of our glasses and my heart ached for him to say it back—I love you.

A scream drowned out the jazz and stopped every conversation in the room. Bright blue flames erupted from the other side of the dance floor and people scattered, glasses dropping and shattering.

I looked at Rook.

“Not me this time,” he muttered. We moved toward the flames and I searched for the source.

“I don’t know where it’s coming from!” I shouted over the noise of the blaze.

My security team had dispersed to evacuate the building, and a fire alarm blared all around us. People pushed each other and women nearly broke ankles to get to the doors in their heels.

“Austin.” Rook shook my shoulder and pointed at something.

A face staring straight at me from the other side of the flames. The eerie eyes of an owl mask watching back. The man wearing it was tall, a bit thin, and dressed in a black suit, still as a predator. He raised a gloved finger to his lips.

“Where’s Wesley?” I asked Rook. “Find him.”

“On it.” By the time he ran off to search, the masked man had turned and walked away, the flames barring me from chasing him.

Eventually the sprinkler system released water overhead, pouring over the flames and everyone left in the room. Rook came running back, hair plastered to his face and suit drenched, as he caught up with me. The man in the owl mask was long gone.

“I couldn’t find Wesley,” he said, water streaming over his forehead and cheeks.

I shoved my hair out of my eyes. “Then it could have been him.”

But why here? Why now? He wasn’t trying to murder anyone in my club. The flames weren’t that out of control, and he had to know I’d have safety measures in place for a fire. He’d simply stared across the blaze, letting me know he was watching.

“He was fucking with you,” Rook said, stepping toward the scorch marks on the floor. It seemed I’d never get a break from repairing this place. The marks were black and winding, and along the edges was a strange residue.