Poe

It felt as if I’d barely closed my eyes when the now-familiar chorus of Frank Turner’s “The Road” snapped me awake. Jericho grunted beside me in the dark and flailed out a hand for his cell phone, cutting off the music as he answered with a gruff, “Hello?” After a second, he cleared his throat. “Yeah, this is him.”

I turned bleary eyes to the clock on the nightstand. Just after 5 a.m. We’d only been asleep for maybe three hours.

Shit. It had to be bad news. No respectable person called so early unless it was an emergency—or someone was dead.

Dread started to grow in my stomach.

Jericho bolted upright, snatching the blankets away from me with the sudden move. “Wait, what?” he demanded, all traces of sleepiness gone. “Are you sure?”

The panic in his voice raised goose bumps along my arms. My heart jumped into overdrive. I reached out to grab his hand, and Jericho’s fingers threaded through mine. He squeezed hard, but he didn’t speak. I could hear his breaths coming faster, though the room was still too dark for me to make out the expression on his face.

After another minute he said, “Thanks. Yeah, I’ll head over there now. Okay, bye.” A second later, there was a click and the lamp beside the bed flared to life. Jericho turned to look at me. I squinted up at him, blinking at the light change.

“What is it?” I asked.

“That was the alarm company. There was a break-in at the shop. The police are there now. They want me to go meet them.”

“Did they say how bad?”

“No.” Jericho sucked in a shaky breath and pulled his hand away from mine so he could scrub at his face with both palms. “Fuck. I gotta go.”

I was already getting out of bed. “I’m coming with you.”

Tension filled the cab of Jericho’s truck as we drove to the shop. The trip had never felt longer, more like an hour than the usual fifteen minutes. Jericho didn’t say a word the whole time, but his agitation was palpable, feeding my own worry. This was his shop, his livelihood, and we had no clue what state we’d find it in.

It was worse than I could’ve imagined—and that was only the part I could see from the sidewalk.

A cop was talking to Jericho behind me, saying something about receiving reports from nearby neighbors in addition to the alert from the security company, but my attention was riveted on the wreckage of the shop.

Broken glass littered the floor, reflecting the blue and red lights from the patrol cars. The case that held Roxanne’s body jewelry had been smashed in. Paintings and framed pictures had been ripped from the walls. The monitor for the Mac we used to schedule appointments lay facedown on the ground.

But that wasn’t the worst of it. Oh no. That wasn’t what churned my stomach and raised clammy sweat on my brow and upper lip. That wasn’t what made me clench my hands into fists. That wasn’t what tightened my throat with paralyzing guilt.

What made me feel all that, what caused me to bite my tongue to keep from screaming in absolute fury, were the messy, jagged lines of spray paint that defaced the walls.

Because, see, I knew who’d done this. He might as well have signed it Azure like he did all his other work. This was a message. For me.

I’d recognize Blue’s style anywhere.

I didn’t say anything while the cops were there. I wanted to. Part of me wanted to send them right to Blue’s fucking doorstep. I wanted to make him pay for this. I wanted him to feel the rage I felt. I wanted him to hurt the way I did when I saw Jericho’s ashen face as he took it all in—including the graffiti.

I’d half heard his conversation with the police. I knew he had an insurance policy. I knew, in time, the damage could be fixed, glass reinstalled, art and equipment replaced.

That didn’t make any difference now. It wouldn’t make up for weeks or months of lost business. It wouldn’t change the fact that Jericho’s pride and joy had been vandalized. It wouldn’t take away the sense of violation. I felt it too—and this wasn’t my shop. It still meant something to me. If I was hurting to see it wrecked, Jericho had to be feeling it a hundred times as bad.

The sun had risen by the time we’d called the others. Zeek was in Chicago for the week, but everyone else was on their way to take stock of what had been destroyed or what was missing.

At some point, Aeryn from Perkatory appeared, bearing coffee and a bagful of chocolate muffins. She gave Jericho a long, sympathetic embrace and patted his bearded cheek when she leaned back. “I’m sorry, Jericho. I’ll bring over sandwiches for everyone later. My treat, okay? No arguments.”

Jericho didn’t look like he had it in him to argue one way or another. I kept waiting for him to explode, but instead he stayed eerily quiet. He wandered the shop, alternating between looking sad and stone-faced. Until, finally, my dad showed up.

Landon wasn’t the touchy-feely type, not even with me. But when he found Jericho, he clapped him on the back, then grabbed his nape and yanked him into a rough hug. They stood that way for a few seconds before my father let go.

Jericho stepped away, and in that unguarded moment, I caught a flash of his stricken expression.

My heart clenched, and the pain was so sharp I almost reached up to rub at my chest. I took a step toward Jericho, but as I watched, he got himself under control. He didn’t crumble. He squared his shoulders, lifted his chin, and the grief was gone like it hadn’t been there to begin with.

“Was anything taken?” Landon asked.

Jericho gave a jerky nod. “Both of my machines are gone.” He sighed. “It doesn’t really seem like it was about stealing, though. We have a small safe for when I can’t get to the bank to make a deposit before closing. As far as I can tell, it wasn’t touched.”

Landon’s brow furrowed. He looked around the lobby area, frowning as he inspected the scrawling graffiti. He cut a quick glance to me, and I wondered if he’d recognized Blue’s handiwork. He’d seen it before, of that I had no doubt. But he only narrowed his eyes and turned back to Jericho. “What did the cops say?”

Jericho lifted a shoulder. “Not much. They took pictures, filed a report, told me to give them a list of whatever’s missing. I have the security system but no cameras, and there aren’t any traffic cams nearby that might be useful. They didn’t bother to dust for fingerprints or whatever it is they do now. Said with the number of people we have coming in and out on a daily basis, it would be more trouble than it was worth.”

Landon grunted. “Pitiful.”

“It’s pretty much what I expected.” Jericho sighed. Glass crunched under his boots as he shifted. “I guess we’d better start cleaning up and boarding the windows.”

Landon squeezed his shoulder. “I have some plywood behind the shop. I’ll run and grab it.”

We spent the rest of the day cleaning.

I swept up the glass while Roxanne and Harriet searched through the remnants of the jewelry case to see if anything was salvageable. Landon and Jericho boarded the front windows. Pete tossed garbage and scrubbed the mess in the break room, where the contents of the fridge had been dumped on the floor.

It took hours to put the place back to rights—or at least as close as it was going to get for now. So much needed to be replaced. The Mac we’d used at the front desk was a lost cause. The phone had been smashed to pieces. Hell, even the chairs in the waiting room had been slashed and covered in spray paint.

And every last thing was my fault. With every minute that passed, I felt more and more like running to the bathroom to puke my guts out. Except there’d be nothing to bring up but bile. It’d been a challenge to force down a bottle of water earlier. I hadn’t looked twice at the sandwiches Aeryn brought over.

All I could think about was Jericho’s grief and how furious Blue must’ve been at me to come here and do this. I’d known him for almost a decade, and I’d never seen him do this kind of damage. He was short-tempered, but he wasn’t destructive, not the Blue I knew. He loved to create, not destroy.

Anger had driven him here, but more than that, pain. In spite of my rage, I could see that. It was the only reason I hadn’t said anything to Jericho yet.

Blue had done this to hurt me. Because as he saw it, I’d hurt him. Betrayed him. Whatever.

This was him lashing out at me like a petty, pissed-off teenager.

This was Blue getting revenge.

And it was because of me. I’d been the one to bring this down on Jericho’s shop. Blue would never have done this if not for me.

My fault.

The guilt grew and grew until I could barely stand to look at Jericho. Every time he tried to catch my gaze, I tore my eyes away. I kept my attention on the task at hand. I didn’t talk to anyone, but especially not Jericho. Truth be told, I didn’t have the vaguest idea what to say to him.

I owed Jericho everything. He’d helped me find the path of my heart. How could I possibly make up for what had been done to Permanent Ink? How could I stay his apprentice when me being in that role had led to this?

One by one, the others left. Finally it was just me and Jericho.

I watched warily as he crossed the lobby and touched the dried blue spray paint on the wall.

“I’m so sorry,” I said, the words sounding strangled. Remorse had my throat in a choke hold.

Silence greeted the statement. For several minutes, Jericho moved around the space, once again surveying the damage.

“Was this what you guys were doing last night?”

Jericho’s voice was so unexpected, I jumped. Then I processed the words he’d said, and my guts turned to ice water. “What?”

Jericho turned to look at me, his lips thinned into a disapproving line. “Did you know he was going to do this? It was him, right? Blue? Is that what you guys fought about?”

I shook my head. “No, of course not! I had no idea he was going to do this. None. I swear to God.”

“But you guys did fight?”

I frowned, looking away, and toed at a scuff mark on the floor. “Yeah, we argued, and yes, it was about you and the tattooing, but—”

“Promise me you didn’t know he was going to do this.”

I jerked my chin up and met Jericho’s stare. “I promise. I swear I would’ve tried to stop him if I knew. I would’ve warned you.”

Jericho rubbed a hand over his face. Exhaustion poured off him in waves. His hazel irises stood out sharply in contrast to the bloodshot whites of his eyes. Normally, he looked younger than his age, even with the graying hair. Right then, I could see every single one of his forty years. “Tell me exactly what happened.”

“He wanted me to work on this heaven spot with him. The side of this building near downtown, but we would’ve had to rappel from the roof. I changed my mind. It was too fucking dangerous. I didn’t want to risk getting hurt.” I huffed out a frustrated breath. “We fought, and I told him you and I were together. I said maybe he needed to find something else to do, like I did. You know, like, find his passion. But he didn’t want to hear it, and I was tired of arguing, so I left. I went straight to your place.”

“And that’s all?” Jericho asked. “He didn’t threaten to mess up the shop?”

“No. I told you, I would’ve stopped him.”

Jericho’s eyes narrowed. “So why didn’t you speak up when the cops were here? Were you protecting him?”

I turned my head, my gaze landing on the plywood Jericho and Landon had nailed into place. It was a stark reminder of exactly what Blue had done. My stomach cramped, and I swallowed thickly. “I don’t know. I—I guess, maybe? He’s . . . he’s my friend,” I said helplessly. “But I was going to tell you, I swear.”

“Are you sure about that? Are you sure you weren’t pissed at me because I’ve encouraged you to give up the graffiti?”

Jericho’s soft words brought my head around. I stared at him, my hands sweaty and shaking at my sides. My heartbeat grew faster, a heavy, unceasing thud in my ears. “It’s not about that. I told you I wouldn’t have let him do this if I knew.” I searched Jericho’s expression, but he’d gone back to that blank, stony face. “I’m sorry. I never meant for any of this to happen, I swear. But if . . . If you really think I’d be okay with him doing this, let alone help him, you don’t know me at all.” The last word broke, and I chomped down hard on my lower lip to keep it from trembling.

He couldn’t really think I’d done this. Could he?

“Jericho?” My voice wavered. “Don’t you know me better than that? Don’t you know I lov—” I cut myself off. No way was I going to say that word when he was staring at me blank-faced and silent. Not if he could actually believe I’d knowingly let Blue come here and destroy his shop. My guilty conscience was eating away at me already. I couldn’t handle it if he honestly suspected I might be capable of going to his home, his bed, after having anything to do with wrecking Permanent Ink.

Jericho didn’t answer.

My eyes burned. Blinking hard, I struggled to shove the tears back down, to bury them deep where Jericho couldn’t see. “I’m sorry,” I croaked. “I know I should’ve spoken up earlier. I just didn’t know what to d-do.”

I staggered out the door before he could say anything—if he planned to.

I couldn’t suck in a full breath as I started down the street, not caring which direction. Away, just away.

It felt like a fist was crushing my chest.