The unrighteous son, p.12
The Unrighteous Son, page 12
The lettuce in Zephyr’s mouth crunched with his every bite, and I wanted to leap over the table and wring his neck. How could he hold someone against their will and stomach food?
My reluctant partner kept quiet, face not betraying what she thought. Her eyes flickered over to mine, a message within that I couldn’t decipher.
Zephyr, unbothered by her silence, kept talking. “One day he will be forced to recognize that I carry a certain amount of power in this world too. Until that day comes, I will hold his obnoxious son here.”
That provoked a laugh from Vee, and Zephyr’s face fell more with each elated gasp. “Wow. You’re actually mad that Frank won’t be your friend. Are you insane?”
“Insane?” Zephyr slammed down his fork. The porcelain bowl broke beneath the prongs. “I am—”
“Insane,” Vee repeated. “You have everything you could ever want on Earth, Zephyr. You have money. Your own business. A vault of treasures somewhere, I assume. Why do you care about Frank and the crime game?”
“The crime game is lucrative, as you well know.” The fae leaned back as the man in the white suit returned. He picked up the broken bowl and shattered porcelain with one hand and replaced it with a new bowl with the other. “Frank thinks that he runs everything here. He does not, and I intend to make that fact known to him. I am valuable. He does not get to insult me and then carry on as if he didn’t.”
“How did Frank insult you?” The words left my mouth before I could stuff them back in my throat. Vee would rake me over the coals for it before this was all said and done.
Zephyr scoffed. “You are a human. You would not understand.”
“I might be human, but I’m also a businesswoman. This entire proposal doesn’t make any sense, and I want to know why.” My hands trembled in my lap. I had to get Samson out of here. Leaving him with Zephyr wasn’t a choice I would accept. “What could Frank have possibly done to you to compel you to keep his deadly son hostage? A son that clearly drives you crazy?”
The fae stared at me, like he couldn’t believe I dared to insert myself in his business. “He said he would trust no bargain I ever extended because, and I quote, the fae cannot be trusted.” He batted a hand. “Trust. Bah! He’s a demon. They are the ones you cannot trust. The ultimate insult from the most repugnant creature the universe ever spat out.”
Vee shrugged. “While I do agree that Frank is repulsive, he’s always followed his deal with me to the letter. I cannot say the same for the fae.”
“If you are hoping to win my good graces, you are not doing a very good job of earning them.” Zephyr’s words turned biting.
I shifted in my chair. I’d never given much thought into what Vee’s deal with Frank might be. Samson had agreed to work for the incubus at seven years old in exchange for a new name. Could Vee’s request be something equally as heartbreaking?
A knock rattled against the door, breaking the hypnotic tension hanging over the table.
“Ah. Here’s your boy.” Zephyr gave a tight smile to Vee. “Come in, Everett.”
SEVENTEEN
The man in the black suit, Everett, opened the door, stuck his head inside, and groaned. It took everything I had not to jump to my feet. “He’s…worse than usual.”
Zephyr pursed his lips. “How?”
“You’ll see.” Everett looked behind him and waved. Footsteps echoed on the tile beyond.
My pulse escalated in anticipation. Samson was worse than usual? What did that mean? If they hurt him—
I shook my head. I’d do what, exactly?
White suits hanging off human bodies caught my eyes first as they lumbered through the entrance, the heavy door bouncing against Everett’s shoulder as they ambled in. Then I didn’t see them at all.
As far as I was concerned, the two men on either side of the slumped body hoisted between them didn’t exist. All that I recognized was the mess of hair on the one hanging in their arms.
I knew it was Samson, even without a jacket and guns strapped to his sides. Without seeing his face.
“Sam.” I jumped to my feet, the backs of my legs ramming into the edge of the chair and sending it to the floor. He didn’t move as the chair struck the tile. Didn’t flinch. My hands shook against my thighs as I searched Samson for a sign of life. “He’s not moving.”
Zephyr turned in his seat and made a face. “He is rather limp. What happened?”
“I think they offered him too much Dead Needle this morning,” Everett said, voice indifferent. Bored. “He was being too combative.”
“Dead Needle?” The words left me in a breath. I stumbled away from the table, my attention only on Samson’s too-still shoulders. They gave him something called Dead Needle, and now he wasn’t moving?
My eyes watered as I took a step forward. At the moment, I didn’t care what Zephyr did to me. If he hauled me away. Killed me. All I cared about was feeling Samson. Feeling warmth. Brushing my fingers against his neck and finding solace in a steady pulse.
Vee stood, leaning forward on the table. “Ashby—”
“I will allow it,” Zephyr interrupted. “She can tell me if he is dead. It took a certain amount of gumption for a human to come here. Such bravery should be rewarded.”
“She’s not brave. She’s an idiot, just like Sammy.” Vee cursed under her breath. “You two really and truly deserve each other, I swear.”
Ordinarily, her insults would’ve sent me into the depths of my psyche to overanalyze everything I’d done to give her the impression I was a hopeless moron, but I didn’t care. Not when Samson was finally in front of me.
I didn’t wait for permission to touch him. The moment he was in arm’s reach, I was his. I ran my hands over his stubble-covered neck, skin warm beneath my fingers. His pulse, while strong, did little to assuage the fear at his stillness.
“Sam?” I leaned forward, my face so close to his I could feel his body heat. “Sam?”
He said nothing. He didn’t move at all.
The world got too small. It folded in on itself at the corners, boxing me into an inescapable, relentless reality that Samson was being harmed…and I could do nothing.
“What did you do?” My chest tightened at Samson’s continued silence, but I kept at hand against his jaw as the two men on either side struggled to keep him up. When Zephyr didn’t answer, I looked at him. “What did you do to him?”
“This will likely come to no surprise to you, but your cambion has been inconvenient.”
“I can’t imagine why he wouldn’t cooperate. You’ve only held him against his will.” My face was so hot I could hardly concentrate. These absolute monsters! How could they do this?
But I couldn’t cry. Not now. I could cry later when his life wasn’t depending on Vee and me having level heads. Crybaby heiresses couldn’t help Samson.
“He knew it was a possibility when he tried to not-so-cleverly get my attention.” Zephyr folded his hands in his lap, eyes somewhere on the plate in front of him. “He has made his disdain for my kind, my family, apparent with every coherent breath, so it behooved me to make him…less coherent.”
I dropped my forehead against Samson’s, willing him to open his eyes. Surely he heard my thoughts and knew how badly I wanted him to be awake?
“You can take him away, Everett.” Zephyr’s command sent a wave of cold down my back.
“Wait—” Samson’s body was pulled away from me. I grabbed at his shirt. Missed. “Please don’t—”
The men in the suits hauled him back through the door.
The grip on my composure left me the second the lock clicked into place. Give him back. He had to give him back!
“Do you know who you are speaking to, human?”
Apparently, I had said that out loud.
Zephyr was standing now. Looking down his nose at me like my father always did. His lips twisted in the same mocking, disdainful way.
I curled my fingers into my palms. “I do know who I’m speaking to. I just don’t care.”
Vee pinched the bridge of her nose.
Obvious irritation blazed in Zephyr’s eyes. “Little girl—”
“I am a woman, and you will not infantilize me because you’re mad.” I stalked up to Zephyr, hands on my hips. “You cannot reasonably believe that anyone would find you trustworthy when you treat people this way.”
His upper lip peeled back. “He deserves it.”
“And what, exactly, do you think you deserve? Unearned adulation?” I jabbed a bladed hand toward the door connecting the dining room to the sitting room. “I’ve seen two pictures of you nude in your home, and I’ve only been in three rooms. So I think you want people to pay attention to you, and you’re angry they won’t.”
Zephyr pulled his shoulders back and grabbed my bicep. “You forget who I am.”
“How could I forget? You won’t shut up about how important you are.” Rage eclipsed every part of me that cared for my own well-being. He would give me Samson back. I would accept nothing less. “Besides, if you are as trustworthy as you claim, you said you wouldn’t hurt me before I walked into the portal. I’m trusting you to keep that promise.”
The fae watched me, anger still simmering in his eyes, and let go of my arm. “I think Vashti—”
“Vee.”
“Vee is correct.” He straightened his suit jacket and turned his gaze away. “You and that boy—”
“Man.”
“Deserve each other,” he finished, an exasperated edge to his voice. “Do you not possess an ounce of self-preservation? Do you not care that I could kill you in less time than it would take for you to blink? I could utterly destroy you, Miss Ashby. It would befit you to remember that.”
“I told you. I did not forget who you are.” I leaned forward, my fingertips digging into my hips. “You have someone very important to me, so I quite simply don’t care about you, your strength, or your threats.”
Silence swallowed the room, and the wave of regret I’d been expecting never came. One thing I’d learned in my privileged life in the Upper East Side was men with any amount of power loved to remind you that they had it. Once upon a time, I’d let those men walk all over me.
No more.
“Why don’t you let her see Sammy before she really pisses you off, Zephyr?” Vee dropped back down in her chair and motioned to the fae’s empty one. “We can negotiate for Sammy’s release. You can prove you’re trustworthy like you claim. Everyone wins.”
Zephyr kept his golden eyes wreathed with dark lashes tacked to my face. “Things are starting to make more sense.”
I forced all my insults to the back of my mind. “What do you mean?”
“One thing at a time, Matilda Ashby,” Zephyr said as he settled into his chair. His use of my full name decidedly scared me. “Everett, please escort our guest to the limp cambion.”
The door opened, revealing the man in the black suit and glasses. His face never changed from resigned displeasure. “Yes, sir. Please follow me, Miss Ashby.”
EIGHTEEN
When the door to the dining room closed behind me, the gravity of what I’d done hit me like a semi. I’d talked back to a fae, told him I didn’t care about him or his feelings, and somehow survived. If—no, when—I got Samson awake and out of this terrible place, I’d tell him all about it. While it had clearly made Vee mad, Samson would be proud.
The thought brought a smile to my lips, and I picked up the pace. The faster we walked, the faster I got to him.
My escort continued on in silence, measured steps not quickening despite my obvious intentions. How did someone calm and collected like Everett end up in Zephyr’s house?
The quiet got to me, so I decided to ask him. “Why are you here?”
Everett adjusted his glasses. “Sorry?”
The question didn’t seem weird before I asked, yet now it felt imposing. I cleared my throat and waved ahead, somehow motioning to the stretch of hallway and nothing all at once. “Why are you working in this house? I can’t imagine a worse place to work.”
“I made a bargain with Zephyr several years ago. This was the price.” Everett held out his hands in the universal sign of resigned acceptance, boredom streaked across his face. Like the expensive paintings lining the walls didn’t exist and there weren’t fae all over the property.
“Working for him was the price?”
“Yeah.” Everett shrugged. “It’s not so bad.”
His facial expressions told an entirely different story. I think I looked more excited in high school chemistry while we learned about molecular bonds.
“He’s not a huge jerk to you?”
“Most of the time? No. But everyone has their bad days.” Everett turned right, into another branch of the hallway. “He’s alone here.”
I hadn’t been there long, but that was patently untrue. “There seems to be plenty of you at his beck and call.”
“I mean he’s alone on Earth.” Everett cleared his throat. “We, humans, live here with Zephyr, but he knows we wouldn’t be here if not for our deals.”
Still not true. “He has those lizard things.”
“They’re fae from the lowest rung of their hierarchy. They know nothing but killing.” How Everett could say such a thing without the vaguest hint of disbelief on his face was a mystery to me. “The fae that are like him? He’s the only one here.”
Something like pity squeezed my heart. How lonely that must be, to be the only one of your kind in a place not meant for you.
Then I remembered what he’d done to Samson, and that pity vanished.
“Well, I suppose there’s Cordelia,” Everett said, a thoughtful lull in his tone. “But she’s hardly around anymore.”
Cordelia. Curiosity gnawed on me, but I refused to ask. The only reason I wanted to know was jealousy, and considering the circumstances, I didn’t need to indulge.
Samson’s business was Samson’s business. Not mine.
“Your friend is just this way,” Everett said, done with the conversation.
Zephyr’s home truly was a thing to marvel. We passed more windows, giving me a better view of the world outside. Verdant trees stretched in all visible directions, rolling up hills and circling glades. Not a single building marred the horizon. Everett was right in that sense—Zephyr was alone here. Wherever here was.
Everett turned down another hall and stopped at the first door on the left. He let out a slow exhale and opened it. It took everything I had not to bolt inside.
Samson.
My stomach tightened as I stepped past the doorframe. Samson didn’t move save the breaths shaking his chest, body slumped onto the lone bed. Had those buffoons who brought him here even tried to make him comfortable? I pulled my arms from my coat and dropped it on the top rail of a chair, the only other piece of furniture in the room.
“What is Dead Needle?” I asked, at Samson’s side the moment I was free of my jacket. The gun burned against my lower back. If Everett could see the outline of it through my shirt, he made no obvious overture.
“It’s a plant.” Everett didn’t follow me into the room. He hung at the door, hand hanging on the knob. “It grows in Zephyr’s home world.”
“How did it get here?”
“How else? Zephyr brought it with him.”
I settled beside Samson on the mattress, hands shaking. “Is it killing him?”
“No.” Everett shook his head. “It induces a dreamlike state. He has no idea what is happening outside his own head.”
Samson’s cheeks, hollowed out from a blatant lack of food, didn’t convince me that was true.
“When he starts to wake from that dream, he often speaks of you.” Everett cleared his throat. “After using Dead Needle, people act drunk for a half hour or so upon waking. They say interesting things.”
Warmth surged through my chest. He hadn’t forgotten about me. A silly thing to worry about, considering the circumstances, but it made me happy all the same. “After threatening Zephyr, I assume.”
“Sometimes,” Everett conceded with a small tilt of his lips. “Mostly he just speaks of you.”
I turned away and hid my grin from Everett. The last thing I needed was for him to go tell Zephyr that I was smiling like an idiot. “How long does it take him to wake up?”
“Depends. On the days he’s more combative that usual, we give him enough to sleep for several hours,” Everett said. “This last time was particularly bad though. He killed one of the men Zephyr had watching him. I suppose they gave him too much after that. I’m not sure when he’ll wake up.”
Samson had killed one of them. While I didn’t know Zephyr, it seemed out of character for him to not kill Samson in retribution.
“But he will wake up?” I glanced around the room, looking for Samson’s jacket and guns. After finding nothing, I ended my search on Everett’s face.
“I feel reasonably assured.” Everett’s gaze bounced from my face to my and Samson’s hands. “I’ll return when Zephyr requires you.”
Everett left quietly, the click of the door hardly reaching my ears as I gave Samson’s face another once-over. I ran my fingers along his jaw, and the stubble there tickled my fingers.
Helpless. I was utterly helpless. What good was my presence when I could do nothing?
“I’m so sorry, Sam.” I cupped his cheek. Could he hear me? Read my thoughts? “I’m here, but I don’t have a clue how to get you out.”
Watching him sleep, oblivious, sent a wave of pain rippling through my chest. How did he get here? He’d seemed so unbreakable before. Impervious to real damage. Now he was completely unaware of the world outside his head. His body, thinner than the last time I saw him, would’ve brought me to my knees had I not already taken to sitting on the mattress.
Why did you get yourself into this mess, Sam?
He wouldn’t have gotten in the position of being here with Zephyr without good reason. Did Zephyr know how to bind Frank to his body, or was it something else that called him here?
Would Samson seek out Zephyr knowing this might happen?
