Page 95 of These Monstrous Ties
Tonight, Jeremiah made an effort. It only serves to make me angrier. Because he knows me. God, he knows me, even if I don’t want him to. Even if I loathe him for it. Even if he knows far too much. More than a brother should.
Lucifer puts the car in park.
We get out, slamming the doors in unison, and I face the Unsaints, squaring my shoulders. This vengeance is mine. I know they’ve been betrayed too, but this is mine to take.
Lucifer puts my hand on my shoulder before I have to make that clear. “You get the shot.”
The other Unsaints, shocking me, nod, although their jaws are all clenched, and they don’t look like they’d hesitate to gut my brother from ass to mouth.
It’s the most I can ask for though, this statement from Lucifer. I incline my head and turn around. We stride past the gargoyle fountain, the guards on alert at the automatic doors. But they don’t stop us. They don’t even search us. They move aside and let us in.
I know those are my brother’s orders.
Because I don’t need to know his hideouts or his habits to know where he is. I don’t need to know any of that. He’s waiting for me. And it only just occurs to me as the Unsaints and I stand side-by-side in the foyer that perhaps I’m walking into a trap. That perhaps Jeremiah is sorry for what he did, but not sorry enough to let me get my anger out.
But he isn’t in the foyer.
Nicolas is. And Brooklin.
She’s behind him.
I hear Mayhem’s breath catch, but he doesn’t move toward her. Her eyes, however, are locked on her brother’s.
And I’m shocked that my brother has left her here, with only Nicolas for protection. Aside from the guards outside, past the automatic doors, there are no others in here that I can see.
Nicolas’s gaze goes over the Unsaints, over me, looking for weapons. I know he knows we have them, even though they’re tucked away.
I notice the foyer is decorated for Halloween, too. There’s even a fake orange tree nestled in one corner of the vast room, spiders and black cats and white, ghostly garland hanging around it. There are no presents beneath it.
No.
Jeremiah is my present, whether he knows it or not. Whether he expects to be or not.
Brooklin is dressed as a kitten, in a pale pink top and dark grey pants, grey and pink cat ears on her head, a nose with whiskers drawn expertly across her scared face. She’s still watching Mayhem, those blue eyes sharp on his.
Nicolas isn’t dressed for Halloween. He’s wearing black jeans, a white shirt. His arms are crossed, and he doesn’t bother hiding the gun at his hip.
“Where’s my brother?” I’m the first one to speak. Beside me, I know Mayhem is staring at his sister. Trying to unnerve her. It seems to slowly be working. She begins to shift from one black heeled bootie to the other.
Nicolas uncrosses his arms, clasps his hands behind his back. He looks down at the sparkling floor. “He’s waiting for you.”
That surprises me.
I expected Nicolas to try to talk me out of whatever he thinks I might do. But my brother always did try to one up me. Try to scare me. I’m not exactly surprised that that’s what he’s trying to do now.
“Where?” I ask Nicolas, my question cold. I won’t show him that surprise.
Nicolas dips his chin and jerks his head in the Unsaints’ direction. “They can’t come with you.”
“Then my brother can’t see me.”
It’s really that simple. I might not have wanted them to come at first, but now that they’re here, there’s no way I’ll leave them alone with Nicolas. I know it’s stupid, to think they can’t take care of themselves, but I want them with me. Or at least, I want Lucifer with me. Besides, something is up. Brooklin is still shifting foot to foot, and Mayhem hasn’t stopped glaring at her. I’m thankful. I need someone else to be uncomfortable in this room.
And despite what he’s done, despite lying to me and covering for my brother, Nicolas seems completely unruffled.
He sighs through his nose. “Look Sid, you have to understand that your brother is not in a good place right now—”
Before I even have time to let that anger tighten around me, to let Nicolas’s words sink in, Lucifer moves. He draws his gun and fires it, right at Nicolas’s feet. Nicolas roars, jumping, covering his head with his hands.
