Page 39 of The Arbiter

Larkan shakes his head. “They didn’t mention anyone other than the two of them being there.”

I nod at his answer. The one time that I really needed Enoch to be there, and he wasn’t. I’m in the mood for murder, so maybe I’ll start with him.

As the club comes into view, I want to vomit on Larkan’s floor. At least four black SUVs surround the entrances of the Apothecary. We’ve barely rolled to a stop before I’m out of the car and running toward the club. Larkan grabs hold of my elbow and pulls me back. My fist is cocked back, ready to punch him in the face, when another Rite walks up to us.

“Larkan,” he all but growls from underneath his hood before turning to me. “And you are Nocturna, the owner of this establishment, yes?”

Since I’m pretty sure the only thing I’ll do is scream, opening my mouth at this point probably isn’t the best idea. Instead, I just nod my head in answer to his question.

“Were you filled in on what happened here?” he asks, receiving another nod from me. “Do you know of anyone that may have wanted to do something like this?”

You mean other than the sick bastards who took Monroe and have been chopping up Damned like sushi being served on a bed of rice? Nope. Not at all.I shake my head.

Without saying another word, he turns and walks away from us. He acts like he doesn’t trust me, which is fine because I don’t really give a shit. I stomp the rest of the way into the club. On the main floor, there are at least three Rites hovering around the edges of the room. One is squatted in the middle, looking down on an unmoving figure. Tears try to sneak out of my eyes, but I let it fuel my anger as I take a few steps closer.

The Rite that was inspecting the body stands and walks over to us. His face is shrouded by his hood, but I wouldn’t see it anyway. I can’t seem to take my eyes off Cedric’s lifeless form on the ground, knowing Jamie is going to be fucking heartbroken when we get her back.

“Never been a fan of these Strige, but I actually feel for him,” the Rite is saying to Larkan. “He put up one hell of a fight before they broke his neck and put a silver bullet in his brain.”

A voice at the door has the three of us turning in unison. “Nocturna?”

Enoch, you son of a bitch, asshole Damned. I take off at a run so fast that no one is able to stop me. Launching myself at him, we hit the floor hard. It knocks the breath out of me, but I’m at least going to get in a good couple of swings before I get pulled away. He never even puts his arms up to defend himself, which makes me even angrier. My palms start to burn, and that’s when I see the fear flash in his eyes. Before I can turn him to ash and kick his ass to Damnation, Larkan hooks his arms underneath mine and pulls me away.

“Where were you?!” I scream. “If you would have been here, this never would have happened.” His face goes stoic before he stalks back out of the room.

Larkan’s smooth voice is in my ear. “It’s not his fault, and you know it. If he would have been here, he would probably be as dead too.” And of course, he’s right. Everyone is always looking for a scapegoat, and I’m no different. Logic is the last thing on my mind, and I really just want to throw something. In fact…

I can’t contain it anymore. A man I love has been taken, and someone he was close to was murdered. And now not only was my home invaded, but a friend I cared deeply for was slain in the middle of that home, tainting something I love with the blood of someone I love. I let out a war cry that practically shakes the building from its foundation, grasping the nearest table to me and flipping it. I pick up and smash one chair, then two, on the ground. Stalking to the bar and swiping every glass and bottle from its surface, I watch as they shatter against the wall and floor. My breath is heavy as I stand there, staring at the shards of glass and broken pieces of wood that are scattered everywhere. I sink back, resting my back against the bar, and glare at my hands. Hands that have the power to stop all of this. To help them all. Yet, I wasn’t there foranyof them.

Larkan comes over and folds my hands gently in his. “Go upstairs,” he orders in a soft tone. “Run a warm bath, have a nice soak, and cry it out if you have to. Let the Rites handle this down here, and I’ll be up in a bit when I lock the doors behind them.”

Normally, I’d fight being ordered around, but I just don’t have it in me. Taking one last look at what used to be Cedric, I turn and make my way up the stairs two at a time. Even in the solitude of my loft, I won’t cry for him. He wouldn’t have wanted that. I will, however, avenge him and bring Jamie home. All I’ve got to do is wait for the perfect moment.

***

Enoch

After an urgent summons from Marilith that had no real reasoning behind it at all, I head back to the Apothecary. No matter what Nocturna said before she left, she knows that I don’t plan on leaving. The least I can do is keep an eye on things while she’s gone, and she never has to know the difference. I’m running out of time to do what’s being asked of me, and should I fail, the results could be catastrophic. As long as I keep Nocturna at arms distance, I should be able to stall a little longer. I should have known that things don’t go the way that you want them to most of the time, especially for Damned such as myself with no soul.

As I walk to the club, I see multiple black Rite SUVs parked outside.Fuck.No one tries to stop me as I make my way inside. Nocturna is standing with Larkan and another Rite but has a spaced outlook on her face as she gazes at the fallen body of her friend. That’s rule number one in my book. Never make those connections with people. They’ll either leave you stranded with nothing but heartache to show that they were even there in the first place or be used as leverage. I’ve had both, and they’ve made me into the heartless, soulless Infernal that I am today.

I know it’s a risk to make my presence known, but I have to. I’ve never been one to bow out gracefully. “Nocturna?”

It’s as if time stops when she turns to me. Unshed tears clog her eyes right before a feral expression crosses her face, and she screams. The Rites in the room simply watch as she attacks me for all that she’s worth. I can’t say that I blame them as she lands good blows to my face over and over as I refuse to stop her. This whole thing may not be solely my fault, but I’ll be fucking damned if it doesn’t feel that way. Besides, she needs someone to take her anger out on, and I’ll always be that for her if I need to be.

When I don’t respond to her attack, it looks to piss her off even more. Her palms start to glow, and I feel the heat from them. In a few more moments, I’ll be nothing more than ash covering the floor of her club, and that scares the shit out of me. Not for me, though. I deserve what I’ll get. However, she will never survive what Marilith and Cain have in store for her if she sends me to Damnation.

Luckily, Larkan yanks her off me before she does any permanent damage. I’d love to be the one who’s holding her right now, but that will never be me again. Slipping my asshole mask back on, I make my way back out of the club.

Nocturna

I do as Larkan says, trying to relax in the bath and all that. It does nothing to relieve the tension that I feel from being able to do nothing for Jamie and Monroe. Enoch isn’t the real one to blame here. Honestly, it’s my fault. These people, for whatever reason, want me. Probably to kill me, but they weren’t exactly specific in their demands. If I would’ve just given myself up when the first phone call came through, Monroe would be with his people, and they never would have captured Jamie or killed Cedric.

An idea flashes through my head, and I know that it’s going to be dangerous. It’s likely going to piss off every man in my life. There’s also the possibility that I’ll die, but Icannotsit here and wait for someone else to rescue those important to me. Those Damned motherfuckers want the Arbiter? Well, they’re going to get her.

Tossing some clothes on, I do the only thing that I know to do. There was no return number on my caller ID from the assholes that took Monroe, but I hope by some miracle that hitting the call back button will reach them. If this doesn’t work, then I’m not exactly sure on what I’m going to do next. Looks like it’s my lucky night and someone else’s unlucky one as the other end of the line starts ringing.

“Took you long enough,” a rough voice answers on the other end of the line. “We were wondering how many more people we would have to kill before you paid enough attention.”

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