Page 50 of These Monstrous Ties
“Lucifer himself?” I press. “Which one?”
Jeremiah shakes his head. “One of the devils,” he replies easily. “One of their people.”
I swallow. “Okay,” I say. “What do you want me to do?”
Jeremiah exchanges a look with Nicolas. “Find his baby. Find his girl.”
I wait, holding my breath.
“Kill the girl. Kill all of the fucking Unsaints if you find them, too.”
This motherfucker. No wonder he’d played the big brother card earlier. No wonder he’d held a gun to Kristof’s head. He wanted to show me he’d do anything for me, and in turn, I should be willing to do anything for him. But what he doesn’t know, what he doesn’t seem to get, is that I’m as fucked up as he is. As ruthless.
“Okay,” I say, lifting one shoulder in a lazy shrug. “Tell me where they are.”
Silence greets those words. Even Brooklin’s mouth drops open, and I see the bright pink gum on her tongue. But she doesn’t dare say a word.
Jeremiah, for his part, looks impressed. He nods, as if confirming something to himself. “You’ll meet with Nicolas around noon, he’ll give you all the information.”
“Do I have to wait for Halloween to do this, too?” I ask.
Jeremiah shakes his head. “Open season.” He stands up, pushes his chair in, and presses his fingertips to the table, leaning over. “Alright, let’s go,” he says, looking to Nicolas. He glances at Brooklin, then clears his throat.
His gaze slides to me.
“Before you meet with Nicolas…” He nods toward Brooklin. “You’ll have brunch with her.”
I stiffen, my eyes darting from Brooklin to my brother and back again. “Why?” I ask, staring at her.
She laughs. It’s fake.
I force myself to face my brother. He never tried to make me and Brooklin like one another when he brought her home six months ago. For good reason. I didn’t want to be friends with his fuck toys. I still don’t.
“She’s going to tell you all about the Unsaints, Sis.”
I think I might faint. I hounded him with questions about them in the first few months I was here. Nicolas, too. They wouldn’t tell me a fucking thing. I knew that Jeremiah had always been the one on the outside; the Unsaints hadn’t cared that he hadn’t made it to Raven Shores for the Death Oath. They hadn’t waited for him. And Lucifer had threatened him in the park, by the merry-go-round. I knew, too, that my brother hadn’t been born here. How he’d found his way into the gang, I still didn’t know. No one would answer anything for me.
How the hell would Brooklin know?
She flashes him a smile, and I note it doesn’t look fake.
She stands, her cheetah-print dress hugging her hips, and she sashays toward the door, blowing my brother an air kiss. Then she looks to me. Waiting.
Nicolas’s and Jeremiah’s eyes are on me too, along with hers.
I don’t quite believe this, but I’m too greedy for information to argue with my brother. I stand on wobbly legs and cross the room. Brooklin pushes the door open and holds it out for me.
I give her a nod, and we walk out together, a guard that isn’t Kristof trailing behind us.
The door falls closed.
“You wanna drink before you hear this shit?” Brooklin asks me. Probably the most words she’s ever spoken to me at one time.
I swallow, open my mouth. Close it.
Then I nod.
“I want more than one,” I say, and together, we head to the bar.
