Mr. Wan stood outside his door, wearing his usual attire of a white t-shirt and khaki pants. A strained smile stretched across his face as he watched us walk in. I had been a little worried about him lately. Ever since he’d stumbled upon the aftermath of the attack on Alek and me, he’s had this haunted look in his eyes. He’d even hinted at selling the place. Thankfully, I was able to talk him out of it. If a new owner came in, chances were, they would raise the rent.
Despite Alek using mind magick on him to explain away the carnage he’d seen, he would still have stray recollections of it. Because, as Alek said, the only way to alter another person’s memory is to work with what they had already experienced. The mind mage had to use those memories to craft a new scenario. So, while he suggested to Mr. Wan that he had found Wade in his apartment, he would still get the vague impression I had been there too and possibly been involved in what happened.
“Hi, Mr. Wan,” I said, stopping in front of him. “Nice to see you smiling again.”
He bobbed his head up and down and glanced behind me at Jonah. “New friend?”
“Sorry, this is Jonah.” I forgot he’d never met Jonah.
Jonah extended his hand. “Nice to meet you, sir.”
Mr. Wan shook his hand and jerked his head toward the empty apartment. “Nicole tell you we have an apartment for rent?” His eyes lit with joy.
Jonah smiled. “No, she didn’t.”
Mr. Wan nodded and scratched at the gray stubble on his face. “If you’re interested, I can show you before the other person who called about it shows up.”
“Someone called about the apartment today?” I asked, cutting off Jonah’s reply. Alarm raced through me as I thought about my giving the Young family my address. Dammit, I should have given them a fake one.
Concern crept back into his eyes. “Yes, that’s good, right?”
Even I could detect the skepticism in my voice. Dammit, Nicole!
“Yes, of course it is. Sunday is just…” I trailed off unsure what I was supposed to say. I had every right to be concerned. Not only did the Young family have my address, Gerald Stewart knew where I lived as well. And I didn’t put it past him to have someone rent the apartment next door just to spy on me.
When did I get so paranoid? Oh, yeah, I remember—when someone tried to kill me…twice.
“They know about what happened and they still want to rent it!” he said defensively.
“Sight unseen?” Shut up, Nicole!
He smiled and stepped back into his apartment. “Don’t worry. I will screen them good.” He stopped inside the door, his smile slipping, giving way to a deep frown. “I still don’t understand why those people killed Wade. He was a decent man.”
Wade was a pervert. Didn’t mean he deserved to die.
I reached out and placed my hand on his arm. “Yes, he was okay.”
He glanced up at me. “They still haven’t caught the person who did it.”
“I’m sure they will eventually,” I lied.
“Yeah, you are probably right.” He turned. “Don’t forget to check your mail. The mailman complained about your box being too full.”
“I will,” I said, and Mr. Wan shut the door.
I didn’t want to check my mail in front of Jonah; I’d have to do it later. So, I continued down the hall toward my apartment, hoping he wouldn’t say anything. I was keeping a big secret from the team, and right now wasn’t the time to go into it.
I opened my front door and my gaze landed on the package Doc had sent. The dirty brown box filled with evil seemed to contaminate the air inside my apartment.
Jonah went around me and picked it up. “We should take this to Devlin.”
“Yeah.” I tossed my purse on the couch. “That’s what Kara said.” I hurried out of the living room to avoid having to talk about it further. After a brief stop in the bathroom to splash my face, I went into my bedroom to find some cooler clothes. I needed a shower, but it would have to wait until after Jonah and I finished talking.
I pulled on some shorts and a tank top. I was down to my last set of clothes and really needed to do laundry. If there was a way I could avoid talking to my parents, I would go to their house and do it. I could use the machines in the basement, but that place was way too creepy for me. Maybe Devlin would let me use his machines.
Before I left the room, I hesitated at the sight of the Shen ring carved into my dresser. While I’d bought some new furniture, I’d kept that piece.
According to Luisah, it was a mark of protection. Set had etched the symbol into the wood and also branded it on my wrist while I was sleeping. He was one of the reasons I had been staying at Devlin’s. His ability to manifest in my apartment and actually inflict harm on me was beyond disturbing. Yet, he’d also branded me and my furniture with protection. Strange, since he literally tried to dig my magick out of me, and if not for my father and Hathor healing me, I would have died.
Despite this, I could not bring myself to get rid of something that was supposed to protect me. I figured I needed all the protection I could get. Illusion or not.
Jonah was sipping some water when I stepped back into the living room. The contents of the package were on the coffee table—the pictures fanned out and the bottle of Asbach Uralt set off to the side. The detailed note of what he’d done was on top of the pictures. I stopped midway between the items and the hallway that led back to my bedroom.
A wave of helplessness overcame me.
The walls closed in around me as I stared at the letter, written in long hand like a damn love letter. An ode to the horrific things he was able to do without anyone stopping him. Including me. I was surprised he hadn’t said thank you in the first one he sent. I dropped to the floor and cast my eyes down.
“He’s gotten inside your head,” Jonah said as he studied me. “This”—he waved his hand over the items—“is meant to break you.” He finished his glass of water. “Are you going to let him?”
“It’s not easy looking at what he’s doing,” I said, my voice small.
“It’s not easy for any of us.” He picked up the letter and extended it to me. “But understanding your enemy is the best way to defeat them.”
“More army training?” I asked, not moving. I wasn’t going to read that damn letter.
“No.” He folded the letter and put it and the pictures back in the box. “The Art of War. Now, what’s on your mind?” he asked again.
“Why haven’t you asked Kara out yet?” It was not what I wanted to ask and the look on his face told me he knew it wasn’t. But seeing those horrific contents spread out had forced me back into a shell.
He leaned back on the couch, stretching his arm along the back cushion. “That’s not what you wanted to know. Ask, Nicole.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat and pushed the images of Ronald’s victims out of my head. “Did Rachel use magick on Devlin?”
He studied me for a minute. “Yeah. It’s a type of healing.” He stopped; gaze still steady on me. “You could have asked me that on the way over here. Something else is bothering you. Now spill.”
He was right. I could have asked earlier. I was acting like a chicken shit, and I really needed to stop doing that. “Rachel told me you didn’t do undercover work. So, why did you decide to go undercover?” I asked in a rush.
“I need to atone.”
“For what?”
He got up and took his glass to the kitchen. It seemed like I wasn’t the only one uncomfortable with personal questions.
He stood by the sink, filling his glass with tap water. I had bottled water and wanted to tell him so, but I didn’t want to break his concentration. Finally, he said, “My third year in the military, I, along with ten other men, were sent to a small town in Georgia to help end a standoff with law enforcement and the New Enlightenment cult. A social worker and two cops had gone there to check on the welfare of twelve children living there with their parents. They went in on a Monday.”
He walked back over to the couch and sat down heavily. Bending forward, he rested his elbows on his knees—eyes focused on the kitchen. But I didn’t think he was admiring the paint. He sucked his top lip into his mouth, biting on the tender flesh as he shook his head. After taking a long drink of water, he continued. “That night, a box containing six severed arms was left outside the police chief’s home. And each subsequent day, additional boxes were left, all with dismembered body parts.”
“The social worker and the cops,” I said, trying not to picture the gruesomeness of what he was telling me.
He nodded. “All ten of us practiced magick.” He stood again, rubbing his hand over his head in agitated jerks.
“Do you need something stronger than water?” I asked.
He walked into the kitchen without responding and grabbed the Dr. Pepper and filled a glass with ice. “I was the only mage-level faith practitioner in the group,” he said. “Four were earth mages and four were mind mages. My best friend from high school, Jacob Summers, was an elemental mage.” He opened the bottle of Asbach Uralt brandy and poured some in the glass, topping it off with Dr. Pepper.
“You are not going to drink that!” I screamed in horror.
He harrumphed. “I’ve been drinking it.”
“Getting to know your enemy?” I asked, my teeth grinding.
He took a sip and leaned back. “Something like that.” Staring at the glass, he continued. “By the time we arrived, they had already sent the heads of the two cops and Laura.” He looked over at me. “That was the social worker. Thirty-seven years old with four kids. Two of her own and two foster children. Kids were her life.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat and went and got a glass from the kitchen. While I could use a drink myself, I settled on sharing the Dr. Pepper.
When I sat next to him, Jonah tipped the bottle of Asbach Uralt in my direction, and I shook my head.
“We arrived at the barricade that night. I was in charge. I hated that. I never liked leading a team.” He leaned back, a pained smile played across his mouth. “I was good at it. But the responsibility of another person’s life…”
He polished off his drink and set the glass on the coffee table. A stray memory of Doc entered my mind. His drinking on the job was another thing I should have seen as a sign but didn’t. I pushed the memory away and refocused on Jonah.
“Our first goal was to get the kids out safely. Only, we were dealing with mage-level faith practitioners and had no idea what was waiting for us.”
“What do you mean?”
“They could have created a god.”
“What?” I shifted around and faced him. “How?”
“Remember the circle configuration we saw on the floor at Tribec Insurance?”
I nodded.
“That was a ritual to bring a god into existence. Mind you, they are temporary beings that are held together by using the combined magick of mages, latents, and believers. I found one of the circles when we went into the forest to get closer to the compound. In this one, unlike at Tribec, the red power circle wasn’t touching the others.”
“I remember.” An image of the three green, three gold, and three black circles carved into the floor at Tribec, coalesced in my mind and I suppressed a chill.
He bit his lip again. I got up and went over to him. Resting my hand on his arm, I said, “If this is too painful, you don’t have to tell me.” He stared at me, as if he was trying to find a lie in what I’d said. “I’m serious, Jonah.”
He smiled. “No, it’s been five years. I need to get past it.” He placed his hand on his right arm. Over the spot where he had ‘patience’ tattooed in Chinese lettering. “Given the gruesome way the social worker and the cops were killed and the concern for the children, I made a hasty decision that cost lives. I knew I shouldn’t use their circle, but if they had a god doing battle for them, then we needed one of our own. So, instead of confirming my suspicion, I showed my men what to do, and I pulled a being into existence.” He paused, his eyes filling with an emotion I couldn’t decipher. Finally, he continued, “Like all magick, there are rules. I broke all of them in that moment. Only faith practitioners can successfully create gods. What I created slaughtered my men and half the people in the cult. It devoured them. And because I didn’t have anyone to help me contain it, I had to absorb it.”
My heart melted at the sheer pain and anguish I glimpsed in Jonah. No wonder he was always so stoic and, if I had to give it a word, standoffish—although the word really didn’t work, the behavior was there. He kept himself apart and only contributed when it was absolutely necessary. Maybe because he was constantly second-guessing himself. Making sure he never repeated his past mistakes.
I wanted to wrap my arms around him. Comfort him if I could. But I knew that was not what he wanted in this moment. Now, he wanted to tell me his story. And if I had to guess, I’d say it was to put me at ease as well. Maybe even encourage me to open up about my past. Too bad I wasn’t ready. Otherwise, it would have been a really great moment.
He got up and paced the room. “Patience.” He rubbed his arm where the tattoo was etched into his skin. “I shouldn’t have…” He shook his head and swallowed—his throat working as if he were absorbing his pain. “I left the military after that. I didn’t even go to my men’s funerals. Instead, I resigned myself to a life of solitude. Wrestling with the demon inside of me as it continues to fight for a way out.”
I wanted to know more, but the tear sliding down his face stopped me from pressing. “You did what you thought was best,” I offered, infusing my voice with understanding.
He laughed—the anguished sound that came out of his mouth was laced with anger and frustration. “I did a stupid thing. Turns out, the god they created was only there to protect them. However, they couldn’t hold on to its essence. The demon I made found the congregation hiding in a building and devoured them in a matter of minutes. In the end, I was able to save five children and two adults. The leader, Ryan, had also escaped.”
“Shit,” I said, expelling a ragged breath from my lungs. I glanced at the bottle of Asbach Uralt as I tried to process what he’d just said. Could I blame him? I wanted to. But I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. He’d made a mistake. Hell, I probably would have made the same one in his position.
“Why did you stop drinking?” Jonah asked. I’d forgotten about my announcement to everyone that I intended to stop drinking. Of course, I had been drunk at the time, and I assumed they’d brushed off my intoxicated proclamations as just that. Intoxicated proclamations.
“Because Madeline Foster said I should,” I answered finally.
“Who is Madeline Foster?”
“The bitch who wrote the self-help article that has been guiding my recovery.”
He sat next to me. “Were you an alcoholic?”
I shook my head. “Not really. But I do have an addictive personality, and…”
“And what?”
I looked over at him, meeting his eyes. “We all have our demons, Jonah. You just happen to have a physical one. True, you acted in haste. Most people would have done the same thing in your position. Hell, I’ve turned acting in haste into an artform. Right now, given what we must do, I figured I needed a cool head. So, I need to get rid of the things that affect me. Alcohol is one of them. Along with cigars and sex. Well, at least according to Madeline.” I didn’t mention my past drug use or the anxiety I’d started feeling when the memories of my molestation had surfaced. I wanted to keep the focus on Jonah since I was sure it took a lot of courage for him to tell me about his past. We could visit mine later. Or never.
“You need to throw that article away.”
“That might be true.” I picked up the Asbach Uralt and went into the kitchen. “But no one should be drinking this crap.” I emptied the contents in the sink. “It could be laced with poison.”
“Rachel tested the first bottle he sent. It was fine. No need to waste a good bottle of liquor.”
I threw the empty bottle in the trash and turned to him. “What happened to Ryan?”
“I hunted him down.”
“Did you kill him?”
He shook his head. “Turns out, Ryan was innocent. The whole op was a setup. The sheriff’s wife was losing members of her church to Ryan when her demands for servitude crossed the line. She didn’t like that. So, her husband called in a few favors. Killed his own officers and the social worker to ensure we would get involved.”
He continued to stare at me as if he was waiting for my judgement. He’d been used. And in the process, a lot of people had ended up dead.
“When did you meet Devlin?”
“A year later.”
I stared at him for a while. His answers had become short. He was shutting down. Like he’d reached the point where he no longer felt like opening up. Maybe what he’d told me was all he could manage to divulge at this time. I could understand that. Finally, I said, “I won’t press.”
He sighed. “Thank you.”
“Except, I do need an answer about Kara,” I said, grinning at him, trying to lighten the mood.
He laughed and walked over to the door. “I’ll see you later.” He turned around. “You coming back to the house tonight?” A smile played across his face. He already heard me tell Devlin I’d be back Monday. So, that secret little smile had to be because of Alek. And my not-so-subtle attraction to him.
I matched his smile. “Maybe. I still haven’t decided.” He cocked his head to the side, giving me an inquisitive look. We both knew I wasn’t just talking about going to Devlin’s.
I looked away, suddenly unable to meet his eyes, and almost missed him rubbing his chest. I followed the movement, staring at it as if I could see the demon inside of him. “How do you keep it contained?”
He opened the door. “With faith,” he said and walked out.