Page 34 of The Duplicity of Thieves

“I can take care of myself.”

“I don’t deny that, but I’m a gentleman.” He’s hesitant, wanting to say something.

“This was…a thing.” It’s all I can say without making the outing seem significant.

That boyish smile blossoms, but he looks up at the cloudy sky instead of tucking it away. “Right. A thing.”

He presses his lips against mine before I can duck away, enveloping me in that sweet honey and bourbon taste. I’m consumed in the kiss. The first one is a question, the second one is ravenous, and the third almost makes me fold. He pulls away, both of our chests heaving with ragged breaths.

His fingers hold my chin, making me look up at him. “How do I see you again?”

“I’ll make a deal with you?”

“Another?” His words are soft and full of lust.

“If we run into each other again, I’ll go on a date with you.”

His eyes turn to slits. “I look forward to it.”

With those final words he pulls away, and strides back into The Alibi. It takes me a few moments to gather myself. There was an animalistic hunger in the way he kissed me. His absence is weirdly destabilizing. I chalk it up to the lack of human contact I’ve had recently, and storm down the street in the direction of my apartment.

The more I try to forget him, the more our kiss infects my mind. By the time I make it home, he’s spread through me like a disease. I feel myself sobering up as I climb the stairs. The shower is my savior. This night feels like a strange dream that I’m washing away. When I settle in my bed, I can only think about the way everything inside of me quieted when we connected. I drift off into sleep, and for the first time in years I’m thrusted into the nightmare that used to plague me.

Chapter seven

Aedonaeus

I leave Josie on the stoop and head back inside The Alibi. It’s an old decrepit place owned by an old friend of my father’s, Imelda. With limited patrons and a rich history, it was the perfect spot to bring Josie. I sink back into the booth as the squeaky double doors to the kitchen open. Imelda sets a glass of water in front of me.

“Drink it,” she demands in her heavy Slavic accent.

In the past, my father has spoken of Imelda as if she’s been here since the dawn of time. It’s an exaggeration. There’s no one around who could even speak about the creation of the Universe, including him. Although her face doesn’t appear more than middle aged, her hair is gray. People in the Underworld live forever, provided no one kills them. It’s almost as if time freezes once they come here. Some don’t look a day over twenty, but in truth they’re at least a few centuries old.

We’re a land mostly made up of outcasts, asylum seekers, and the forgotten. I’m not sure which one she is, and it would be rude to ask. She has that air about her that tells you she’s wise.

Imelda levels her gaze. “Who was she?”

“Just some girl,” I lie. The glass is cool, and condensation coats my palms lightly.

“Mmm.” She takes a seat across from me. “I never see you with girl. I thought ‘Oh, Imelda, he must be eunich.’ This is why so sad.”

I draw circles in the moisture. “Very funny.”

“Tell me. Who is she? No lying this time. I will know.” Imelda waves her finger at me.

I gulp down the water and set the empty cup on the cracked plastic table. “I don’t know.”

“What you mean you don’t know?”

“I know her name. That’s it.”

Throughout that entire game, Josie managed to evade answering a single question, and she did a damn good job distracting me from that fact.

“I see.” She gives a wise chuckle. “You bring her here. Must be important?”

“I met her a few years ago, but I never saw her again. You could say she stuck with me.”

“Interesting,” she responds thoughtfully. “You don’t know the outside, but the inside. You know her soul.”

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