And, two weeks later, I found there were few things better than falling asleep and waking up in the arms of a former vampire king.
It might all come to an end in two days, however; that was when my mother was scheduled to arrive. We’d see how that would go over.
She’d learned along with the rest of the world that gods and devils existed—as did supernaturals of all shapes and sizes—and that her daughter was both the anti-Christ and the girl that saved the world from the devil.
My mother was obviously having some issues processing all of it.
“Oh, and I’ll have you know that I put a hex on Doris to make her nose hairs grow to her chin,” Oliver said, pulling me back to the present.
“Oliver!” I gasped.
“What? She was rude to Leanne and you, and she casts those judge-y eyes of hers at me. Anyway, that’s not why I’m here.” He grabbed my wrist. “We need to go to Castle Rushen. Now.”
The remains of Castle Rushen, that was. They were still renovating the building after Andre demolished it, and they would be for some time.
“We’re not going anywhere near that castle,” said my still-so-over-protective-it-hurts soulmate.
Since the world almost ended, Andre and I had become something of a sensation. Both the supernatural world and the human one were captivated with our story. It was all nice and well, until you wanted to grab a cup of coffee and someone recognized you.
“Oh my god, you’re Gabrielle Fiori, aren’t you?”
“Were you really fated to the devil? Did you actually have to marry him?”
“Can I have a picture with you?”
“Told you,” Leanne said, back in the present.
Oliver huffed, then glanced at me, raising his eyebrows. I gave him a look that said, What do you want me to do? I had to pick my battles with Andre, and this was not one of them.
“Fine, fine. We won’t go, spoilsports. Do you have a television?”
By means of answer, Andre brushed past us and stalked down the hall.
Oliver leaned in. “Broody-as-hell. Gah, you lucky bitch,” Oliver said, eyeing his backside.
The three of us and a couple of Andre’s men entered his conference room and circled the television. Oliver picked up the remote resting on top of it and clicked to the appropriate channel.
A news station popped on the screen. In the background I could see Castle Rushen and a number of vehicles with flashing lights.
The caption that ran along the bottom of the screen read, Cult and Corruption within the Politia.
I sucked in a breath and glanced at Oliver. He wore a smug grin, and when he caught my eyes, he wiggled his eyebrows. Behind me, Andre leaned forward, splaying his hands on the conference table.
On the screen, Byron Jennings was carted away into one of the police cruisers. Human police cruisers.
The revelation that paranormals really existed was met with mixed reactions. But here on the Isle of Man, where supernaturals had been an open secret for centuries—if not millennia—the police force was happy to aid us.
Byron’s eyes briefly met the screen, and I shuddered. Darkness dwelled there. I hadn’t noticed it before, but having once felt its touch, I recognized it in others now.
I was surprised to see that Byron hadn’t shifted and escaped his captors. Whatever cuffs held him bound, they must’ve been spelled to contain a shifter.
“He already confessed to three attempted murders,” Oliver said, staring at the screen.
I glanced over at my friend, my eyebrows nudging up. Something cold and hard entered the fairy’s features, and I realized that I’d only ever seen a happy Oliver. Well, okay, sometimes I’d seen him miffed, but never like this.
“Three attempted murders?” I repeated, confused.
Oliver sighed. “That moment when you realize your friend is such a badass she doesn’t remember those times someone tried to kill her. One was outside of Jericho’s Emporium a couple weeks ago, and the other was at the beginning of the school year, at Andre’s club Mystique.”
I touched my throat, remembering the knife biting into my flesh. The other instance did require me to paused and think back. I flipped through my memories and—yes, I remembered. I was in Andre’s VIP suite when a man attacked me. He tried to stab me in the heart. He’d been captured but he’d later disappeared without a trace …
“Holy shit.”
“Yeah, and the individuals responsible for capturing Leanne’s doppelganger on the night of Samhain?” Oliver’s chin jutted to the screen. “Officer Maggie Comfry and Byron Jennings—again. Bastard. That was murder attempt numero tres.”
I swallowed down a lump as my eyes met Leanne’s. I’d worked alongside both inspectors.
Andre spoke. “You did this?” he asked, his attention focused on Oliver.
My friend buffed his nails. “Mhm. I cleaned the Politia out. House of Keys knows everything, thanks to my sleuthing.”
My eyes widened.
Oliver nudged me. “This is why it’s always a good idea to be friends with a fairy. We are in the business of vendettas.”