Page 81 of The Duplicity of Thieves

“I’ve seen what ye’ve got under there, Colin, and it’s nothin’ ta be proud of,” Caleb jokes. The group erupts in raucous laughter. Colin blushes and seems to wiggle out of the conversation, approaching a girl off to the side, McFadden’s daughter.

Most of the men continue to pour ale and joke at each other’s expense, but Caleb lightly puts his hand on my back and leans over, leveling his mouth with my ear.

“Staff wants a word,” he says low in his chest. I follow his gaze to find Stafford hiding in the shadows outside of my apartment door.

My heart starts to thud. Maybe this part is over, and I should spill the beans. I can tell him what’s happening, and we try to figure this all out, but I’ll be able to come back to work and breathe a little easier with him helping me. It can all be out of my hands again. I need a little violence. My current circumstances have me pent up, and I’m trying to avoid sleeping with Aedon again. I’m still in denial about having feelings for him. Serious feelings.

I like the way he chases me and the way he calls me love. It’s like I’ve been waiting several lifetimes to hear it, and now that I do, I’m fucking relieved. Being with him is easy and comfortable. I don’t need obsession to know that he has me. Could his infatuation be the root of my own compulsion? Maybe, but damn, it encompasses me in something I didn’t know existed.

Killian never made me feel like that. There was distance and stress. Secrecy and lies bundled up my love for Killian. Even though I didn’t know until the end, I still imagine what it would have been like to be with him. Compared to Aedon, it would have been boring. Maybe if Killian was here then I never would have been involved with Aedon. Then I wouldn’t know what I was missing. But that’s just it, it would have been missing.

I brush past Cam, knocking his ale into his lap earning a dirty look. That’s what he gets for his bullshit with Fiona. I climb the crumbling cement steps, puffs of dust radiating from them with each step. Stafford leans against my door in all his criminal glory. His face looks tired, and his usually trimmed beard has been reduced to patchy stubble. He’s been pulling it out with the amount of stress he must be under.

“Cam said you came around.” I open the door, letting him in.

With his hands in his pockets and a grim look on his face, I can tell this isn’t going to be a good conversation.

“I’m glad to see ya were enjoyin’ yerself,” he says without emotion. I think he means it, but there isn’t anything left inside of him because he’s so exhausted. I start to feel bad that I ever doubted him.

“Hardly. Fiona is trying to marry me off to Galen McFadden,” I scoff.

He seems to be brought back to life. “What the hell would make her think that is a good idea? You’d crush that boy in an instant.”

“They have nothing better to do.”

“Did you go to the exhibit?” Stafford asks. There won’t be much chit chat tonight.

I want to know what he’s going to say before I tell him shit. “I did.”

“What did ya think?” His green eyes are pale instead of shining emerald.

“About which part?” I ask.

“Please, Jo, save the bullshit for another time. I don’t have much patience left these days. Did ya see the box.” I wondered if the conversation was going to lead here. Of course it was.

“There wasn’t a box on exhibit,” I say nonchalantly.

“Jo.” He grins. “I know ya saw it anyways. There isn’t a sign in the entire Universe that could keep ya out.”

I sigh. “The symbols look archaic. Other than that, I don’t know what to think.”

“What about the drawin’? Of the Leviathan?”

“I thought it was good for an alleged era when people were rubbing sticks together trying to make fire.”

He’s watching me with morbid interest, just like the woman at The Alibi, and Sam, the doorman. It doesn’t sit right. He must be able to tell because he looks away. “I’m sorry. It’s hard to keep my head straight these days. Anyways, I think they’re connected. The box, the Leviathan, and the Grimoire. And you.”

“Do you?” It’s a lame attempt at covering up my fear, but he doesn’t notice.

“You’re not an idiot Josie. The scars on your skin look just like the symbols on the box,” he says crossly.

“Hm.” I’m nervous. It’s all I can manage to say without having a full-on anxiety attack. Something feels very wrong. The hair on my arms is prickling, but I can’t place it.

“It’s all connected to ya somehow, just not sure how yet.” He stares at the floor in a daze. “Ya don’ remember anythin’ from before?”

This whole conversation is making me uncomfortable. The bag on the counter with the book is getting heavier by the second. “No. You know I don’t.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said it like that. I’m just pullin’ my hair out tryin’ to piece it all together.” He points at his beard. “Kate was a solitary person. Had interestin’ ideas that I always disregarded, and now I’m thinkin’ I should’ve given her a chance.”

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