Vacancy
Clouds were thick and black above, and a faint drizzle smattered the sidewalks. I ducked into an alcove about a block from Zara’s building, pulled out my cell phone, and texted Nic to let her know I’d be back in a bit. At least it would save her from worrying I’d run away to off myself while she slept.
Jesus. When the fuck did I become so goddamn considerate?
I took up a brisk walk, moving aimlessly even if it looked as if I was headed somewhere in particular. A chill crept in and rain accumulated on my hair, slicking it over my forehead and running fat drops down the back of my neck. I crossed my arms at my stomach and kept moving. Food would be nice but I was literally penniless and throwing anything onto the Jack D sloshing around in my gut likely wasn’t a good idea.
The streets were congested and people rushed though it wasn’t raining badly; umbrellas popped up, bobbing in the crowds of pedestrians.
And then everyone stopped.
My steps slowed to a halt. I blinked a few times. The world was put on pause, even the rain freezing mid-air.
Shit. Not good.
“Persephone Spencer.”
That voice, using my maiden name. I knew it. Remembered it, the dream from days ago tickling my brain. Prickles ran up my spine as I slowly turned. My hand moved on instinct to my holster only to realize I didn’t have one and had headed out without a gun.
How I managed to get myself up in the fucking morning was beyond me—I was such an idiot.
I shifted my weight, prepared for a fight, as a man stepped through the crowd. He was tall and thin, well dressed in a charcoal suit and a tie in shades of gray, black overcoat billowing around his legs as he walked. Thinning silver hair, clean shaven, very dark eyes. I didn’t know him and didn’t want to—something unnatural danced off of him in waves and every instinct I had, preternatural or otherwise, told me to run the other fucking way now.
“I’m not here to harm you.” A smile flickered across his lips, icy and unfriendly but not actually threatening. A gloved hand indicated across the street. “Shall we sit and discuss a proposition?”
And across the street was suddenly a park I was pretty sure hadn’t been there before. Lawn bright green, pigeons moving and picking at the ground, a handful of artfully placed trees and a single wooden bench in the middle.
Yep. Not a normal park.
I eyed him again. He raised both hands in peace offering. Honestly, the everything-is-fucking-frozen-and-a-park-appeared-across-the-street part wasn’t the weirdest thing, given the past few days I’d had, so I nodded my agreement and gestured for him to go first. He complied, stepping easily out into the oddly still, quiet street, past cars and straight for the park. His gait was smooth, steps long. I padded after him, soles of my shoes touching down lightly, and I prepared to turn and hightail it out of there if things went sour.
The park bench was dry—in fact, the whole scene could’ve been lifted out of bright, spring day in another country.
Maybe it is.
The tall guy sat and I perched on the edge of the bench a foot away, still tense.
“My name is Adrian Lachlan.” He extended his arm, offering me his black leather gloved hand.
I crossed my arms at my chest. “Uh huh.”
He waited a beat longer before returning his hand to his side. Whether my bitchiness was the right way to go in this sitch, I didn’t know—it might get me killed. But then I’d never played nice with others and didn’t see a reason to start now.
Pigeons drifted around our feet, cooing, and the disconnect between them and the frozen world beyond was startling. Though there was nothing overt in Lachlan’s demeanour, he had my skin crawling.
“I’ve had kind of a shitty couple of days,” I broke the silence at last, “and also years. What do you want?”
“I’ve a proposition for you.”
Wonderful. The last time I had this conversation with a man, I ended up getting shot by Zara. “I’ll bet.”
His face was nondescript, plain—an aging business man, perhaps, and easily forgettable, and his expression didn’t change despite my attitude. “I represent the Court.”
Shit. “Of the Black Veil variety?”
A simple dip of his chin in a nod. “The same.”
Double shit. “Are you proposing I go play in traffic?”
“To the contrary, no. While we take issue with an impending apocalypse, we have none with you specifically. I would, however, like to offer you a position in our organization.”
If I hadn’t totally obliterated Sean O’Connor’s soul, he would be spinning in his grave. And probably plotting my death. “Excuse me?”
“We feel you would bring many...assets to the table.”
Fuck me—I guess Sean was right and they did feel that beacon of power last night. I swallowed a nervous lump in my throat and shifted, still pretty fucking tense because I didn’t trust this guy in the least. “Why would I want to join?”
His unkind grin widened. “Why wouldn’t you?”
Spoken only as a country club asshole could. We’re so great, everyone wants to join us. Obviously. Please pass the Grey Poupon. Pity this douchebag didn’t have a Brit accent to complete the look.
I realized then that I hadn’t answered his question. “How about because you’re creepy as fuck and anyone who would have Sean O’Connor as a member isn’t company I’d like to keep?”
“There is much we can offer. Anything you desire.”
“How about twenty bucks?”
He said nothing in return but hey, a girl’s gotta try.
“Yeah, so, you know some people are trying to raise Mishka Thiering from the dead, right? Doesn’t that put a damper on your no apocalypse plans?”
“We have reason to believe it won’t come to pass at this time.”
“This time? What about the next time someone gets a hard-on for necromancy and the end of the world?”
“We have reason to believe that’s not in any danger of happening either.”
Whatever that meant. “Well, my answer is no.”
He didn’t seem surprised. As he reached into his overcoat, I braced to run; instead of a weapon, he merely pulled out a business card and held it my way. “If you change your mind.”
I accepted the damn thing because why not, right? The card was thick and glossy, his name and phone number near the bottom. A swirly insignia sat on the top right corner, shaped like a V with things twining around it or something.
I looked up again as a car horn honked. The world rushed back into place. I sat on a bench in a bus shelter, surrounded by pavement and a tall kid in baggy pants with a cigarette hanging from his lips.
On the bench beside me fluttered a twenty dollar bill.