Page 16 of Death Raiser

“What the fuck, guys?” I waved the rose in the air. “Leaving one outside our apartment may have been ha-ha funny to you, but this has gone far enough. I just lost ten years off my life from a fucking flower.”

Brandon frowned and pushed his curly brown hair from his face. Tall, rugged, and built like a linebacker, my brother’s boyfriend had raised the bar considerably for my expectations of a partner. “What are you talking about?”

Logan vibrated. His normally blue eyes darkened to almost black and a chill spread over the room. He was a taller, stronger, male version of myself, including the black-brown hair, fair skin, and attitude problem. He hadn’t inherited the family’s necromancer magic. He’d received something else entirely, something darker that he rarely spoke about. Whatever his skillset, he wasn’t a drab and he excelled at killing people for a living.

Brandon side-eyed his boyfriend and stepped away.

“Where did you find that?” Logan asked, his voice a low rumble full of malice.

“Bedside table.” I kept waving the rose between us, but my confidence quickly faded. “Where you left it.”

“We didn’t leave the flower, Sparky.” Logan took two steps to close the distance between us and snatched the rose from my hand. He studied the petals and the stem and then sniffed it. He narrowed his eyes and stalked past me to my bedroom leaving me to trade panicked looks with Brandon.

“You two aren’t fucking with me?” I whispered the question.

Brandon shook his head, concern etched into his brow.

I followed Logan, padding back to my room. Folding my arms over my chest, I leaned on the door frame and watched my twin stomp around. He flung open the closet door. Not finding anything, he stomped to the other side of my room, viciously pulled up the blinds and threw the window open. I cringed with each sound, half-expecting something to snap.

“Do you think the point of entry was my window?” I asked. “I’m sure I would’ve heard that or felt the draft.”

Logan scowled over his shoulder and peered out the window. With a curse, he spun around. His gaze dropped to my desk. He sputtered. The fury raging behind his eyes momentarily disappeared. “What’s this?”

“Dad’s case file.” I looked at it last night after returning from the veil. The original detectives had done little leg work, but the added documentation indicated Kang had been very thorough in chasing down every single lead mentioned in the original report. He’d interviewed work colleagues and friends, and he did so without any of us knowing. Nothing in the report screamed “smoking gun” to solve Dad’s disappearance, but my heart did funny things as I read through the reports. Kang cared a lot.

“Your cop boyfriend give you this?” Logan leafed through the top few sheets.

“He’s not my boyfriend, but yes.”

“You need to let it go, Sparky.” His gaze met mine, momentarily clear and blue. “You need to let him go.”

“Kang?”

“No.” Logan’s scowl deepened. “Dad.”

I shook my head, my messy hair smacking my face. “You need to let me deal with Dad’s disappearance my own way. I don’t lecture you, so don’t you dare try to scold me.”

He grumbled, his attention already drifting away from the desk. He scanned the rest of my room and found nothing, because there was nothing to find, and shouldered his way past me to investigate the rest of the apartment.

“If you’re not careful, he’s going to lock you in a room until he’s found and neutralized the threat,” Brandon whispered.

I turned to find him right behind me, the concern still tugging his brows down.

“If you make a distraction, I’ll slip out.” I jerked my head toward Logan whose cursing grew louder and louder. He had searched his own room, the main bathroom, the entryway closet, and now examined our main entrance door and its locks.

“Did you put the chain on last night?” he growled over his shoulder.

“No, did you?” I called back.

He swore.

“I didn’t either, so you can add me to the shit list,” Brandon offered.

I reached out and rubbed his arm. “No one’s adding you to a shit list.”

We exchanged small smiles.

I left Logan to rage-search our apartment and Brandon to supervise while I slipped back into my room to get dressed and run a brush through my tangled hair. My supervisor and work friend Denise had already sent me a text to remind me about the home-visit appointment I had in an hour.

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