Ben stared at Godfrey. For a moment he thought he’d misheard. “I know what I saw―”
“We saw the same,” Godfrey told him. “But there is other evidence that you haven’t heard about.” Godfrey hesitated. “This may be difficult to hear, Ben.”
Ben wanted to laugh. He’d carried around the knowledge that his father had killed her for years. This was nothing! But instead of speaking, he found himself sucking in a rapid breath.
“Perhaps we should return to the house.” Godfrey looked around to signal the waitress.
“No!” Ben steeled himself. “I don’t― I didn’t leave Saltaire on the best circumstances. I don’t want him to know―”
Godfrey looked at him. “You cannot remain hidden from him forever. You know that, Ben.”
Ben put his palms flat on the table. “I just need time. Time to figure out what I want and who I am. Before― You know I can’t do that around Saltaire. His influence…”
“I understand,” Godfrey said. “You want to establish yourself as an individual before returning to Saltaire’s realm of influence.”
“And Hunter’s, too,” Ben added quickly.
Godfrey pressed his lips together. “Well. It grieves me not to share your news, but I will respect your wishes.” He sighed. “It’s a shame. We are shorthanded right now. We’ve had an increase in cases since the Necromancer killings. Saltaire has gone to Europe in self-imposed exile, leaving myself and Hunter holding the fort. We would be very glad of your help.”
It was tempting―very tempting. There had been camaraderie and purpose, the knowledge that he was helping a worthwhile cause, saving lives. Ben shook his head before he could second-guess himself. “I’ve got control of myself. Tell me about the case.”
Godfrey’s eyes saw everything. Ben thought for a moment that he was about to refuse, but with a sigh, Godfrey leaned back in his chair. “In the course of my career, I’ve seen the work of demons such as this many a time. My order specialized in them. A good part of my long distant youth was spent in attending exorcisms, and traveling with my master to look up treatises on the various known species of demons and their identifying characteristics. That was how I first came to Saltaire’s attention―as a newly ordained brother, on the trail of the same demon he sought.”
Anyone else might make that pronouncement in a coffee shop and not be believed. Godfrey’s words sounded the right ring of gravity, even in the midst of the bustling cafe. Ben nodded. Rather than feeling exasperation at Godfrey’s detour into the past, he appreciated it for what it was―a chance for Ben to collect himself.
“I’ve seen many demonic victims,” Godfrey said. “There is a difference between those taken by means of a sealed bargain―such as the one your mother attempted―and those who break their bargain. And then there are those who get in the demon―or its agent’s―way. The first is comparatively gentle. Death occurs the instant the ritual exchange is complete. The soul is consumed, the flame of existence extinguished. Indeed, I have seen victims who appeared so peaceful that you would swear they had died peacefully of natural causes.”
“So that means―” Ben faltered. No one could imagine that the body he’d glimpsed died naturally.
Godfrey nodded. “Your mother’s death did not end the demon’s rite. But there were no more deaths.”
“You don’t know that―”
“Actually, Ben. I think we do.” Godfrey leaned forward. “We kept your father under close observation. The housekeeping job… Well, at first, it was simply a ruse. During the day I monitored your father, while at night Hunter made sure he did not have the opportunity to create a second circle, find another victim. He didn’t even try to make the attempt. If anything, he seemed…relieved.”
Ben looked down. “But it’s my fault she died. Because I didn’t say―” He was unable to voice the words, even now.
“Hunter and I were wondering how to proceed when your father decided to confide in us. He’d come home unexpectedly early from work, found his wife about to sacrifice their son to a demon―”
“No.”
Godfrey continued placidly as if Ben had not interrupted. “She laughed it off, tried to pass it off as a joke, but Austin wasn’t fooled. He’d noticed that his wife’s behavior had become strained and erratic as their ten-year anniversary approached. He didn’t want to believe it possible, but he knew what he’d seen. You see, Austin had encountered this particular demon’s work before in the course of his work for ARX. That’s how your parents met―Austin handled the investigation into the circumstances of Audrey’s parents’ death.”
Ben stared at Godfrey. “They died in a car crash.” He hated how lost his voice sounded. He hadn’t even known his grandparents.
Godfrey’s smile was sad. “I’m afraid not. Austin found that Audrey was the intended victim for a demonic circle created by her father, but when the circle mistakenly claimed his wife, he realized he would be unable to hide his wrongdoings and killed himself. In retrospect, it seems likely that Audrey was the agent all along, and she killed her father to cover her tracks. We will never know her motivations, but I suspect that starved of love and possessions in her youth, she was willing to go to extraordinary lengths to secure them.”
“I don’t believe it.” Ben gripped the edge of the table. “Just because she’s dead and can’t defend herself, doesn’t give you the right―”
“We looked into the case a second time. Audrey’s relationship with her parents was rocky at best, and she was obsessed with wealth. After her death, Austin discovered a host of secret bank accounts she’d made. As if she expected to have to hide. It was the hardest blow, and what, I think, made him determined never to speak of her to you. He could forgive a moment of weakness, but not a considered plan.”
Forgiveness? “But he killed her!”
“He did exactly as procedure dictates. Left the summoner for the demon to claim.”
Ben stared at him.
“There would have been more victims otherwise,” Godfrey explained gently. “Your mother was a resourceful woman. She’d managed to hide her pact all the while living right under the nose of a man who investigated supernatural elements for a living. She was also a very attractive woman, who enjoyed playing hostess. It’s possible that she hoped to attract someone to take your place in the ritual. Unfortunately for her, a few weeks earlier, someone had asked your father a question about his work at the dinner table, and he’d explained the signs of a demonic ritual. Audrey was furious with him afterward, and increasingly nervous. He said in retrospect it was obvious.”
“But the pills―”
“He didn’t want her to die as most agents do,” Godfrey said. “Aware and knowing what was about to happen. He hoped that if she was unconscious she would be spared the pain. He was very much in love with her, even then.”
Ben looked down at the table again. His ears were ringing like they did at high altitude. “I didn’t know. He never told me.”
“He hoped to protect you,” Godfrey said. “Knowing how close you were to your mother―he didn’t want your memories of her poisoned by the knowledge that she―”
“Would have killed me to save her own life.” Ben’s legs shook as he stood, and his hand banged clumsily against the chair. “I have to go.”
Godfrey stood. “Is there anything―”
“No! No.” Ben took a deep breath. After so long, his self-command was still there. “I just need some time to take this in.”
Godfrey reached over the table, placing his lean hand on Ben’s arm. “I’m only a phone call away.”
Ben nodded, not trusting himself to speak.
He stood on the pavement blankly, not knowing which way to turn. Where was he going? Where was there to go?
As he hesitated, a taxi slowed hopefully. That gave Ben impetus. He climbed into the back seat. “The New Cemetery.”
✩✩✩
The New Cemetery was established two centuries prior, when New Camden’s inhabitants had reached the limits of the boundaries so optimistically set out for them by the city’s founders. It was a lot more practical, lacking, for the most part, the marble crypts and statues of its predecessor.
Austin’s grave was plain. The stone still had a smooth, glossy shine to it that time and New Camden’s notoriously polluted air had not yet taken away. All traces of the murder from a year prior had been removed, and the damage to Austin’s slab skillfully repaired. The grave looked good as new.
So new, the stone had an unfinished quality about it. No mention of his family―Saltaire had been against it, reminding Ben that such details could become deadly to vampires. “We are recognized now,” he’d said. “But that may not always be the case. Your father would understand. He always put your safety first.”
Ben sat down at the foot of the slab. Died protecting me. Lived protecting me from the knowledge that my mother tried to trade my soul for ten years more wealth.
He should feel something. Not this gnawing emptiness within. Something! He should be sad or grateful or full of rage…
“What is wrong with me?” Ben looked at the stone.
In Memoriam
Austin Hawick
This Wasn’t On The Job Description.
The corners of Ben’s mouth turned up tiredly. Such a Dad joke. People would have to know he was a father, even without that information on the stone.
His vision blurred, eyes filling with tears. “Dad.” His throat was constricted with all he wanted to say. “Dad, I―”
The words didn’t come. Ben tried again, but it was as if there was an outside force acting on him, preventing him from saying the words.
Instead he felt, as if for the first time, the loss of his father.
It’s been a year. I shouldn’t feel this strongly now. I should be over this.
But he’d spent a year not allowing himself to grieve. And before that…
Ben could remember passing the time with Austin, working with him on preparing meals for Hunter’s dinner guests or researching musty tomes for his cases. Austin had always welcomed Ben’s involvement, many times expressing an interest in Ben’s homework or university essays. Ben always refused.
I always held back from him. Ben scrubbed his hand across his eyes. I never told― I wanted to protect him! But I never forgave him either.
So instead, he’d deliberately withdrawn emotional contact from his only remaining family member. “Dad, I’m s―”
How pathetic am I? Ben ground his fingers into a fist. I can’t even talk to a headstone! How can I ever expect to get on with living people if I can’t even face the dead? Ben dug his fingers into his arm in an effort to stave off the thought, but it was too late.
I’m broken. This is me―too broken to be able to live or feel or love. He shut his eyes. Nate’s the only person who could make me feel―and instead of welcoming it, I freaked out. Was it Nate’s choices that scared Ben, or his reactions to them? Anger and frustration and fear were a part of life, as much a part of it as joy and affection. In rejecting one, did I lose all of it? Is it Nate I’m afraid of―or life itself?
Ben looked down at the marble slab before him. There was no headstone separating him and Nate, but the distance between them felt just as insurmountable.
He was still there, hours later, when his phone rang. Ben was so surprised he swore, getting dirty looks from the mourners at a neighboring grave. Ignoring them, Ben pulled out his phone, heading for a quiet bench away from the other visitors. “Hello?” His heart was beating fast, his hands clammy. Very few people had the number to his phone. “Nate?”
“Hate to disappoint you.” Ben could picture George’s smirk exactly, lingering in self-satisfaction. “But it’s only me.”
“George.” Ben took a moment to get his voice under control. When he next spoke, it was shorn of any indication that he’d been surprised. “How did you get my number? Nate?”
“Tried Nate. You two have a fight or something? He was weirdly against giving me your number.”
“That’s none of your business.” Ben forced his voice to relax. “Then how did you get it?”
“Officer Raymond was kind enough to oblige.”
Ben frowned. He’d had to leave a number with the police before leaving Little River. “That’s private information. They shouldn’t be sharing it.”
“I’m helping them in their inquiries,” George told him. “And you’re helping me with my inquiries.”
Ben snorted. “Think again,” he told her. “I’m through with Little River. I’ve got no interest in getting caught up in that again―”
“There’s been developments you don’t know about.”
“There’s no developments that could change my mind about going back to Little River.”
“Not the discovery of a demonic circle in the Granger’s barn?”
Ben shoved the sense of alarm away. “What are you talking about?”
“Police made the discovery yesterday. Only one course of action they could take.” The phone quality dropped dramatically. Ben guessed that George had shrugged. “Your boyfriend’s been arrested for Harriet’s murder.”
Once again Ben felt as if he’d been shocked out of his body. He heard the words, but they were distant. Or was it Ben himself who was distant. Nate, arrested?
‘You don’t understand, Ben. Jail would kill Ethan… I promise you, Ethan has nothing to do with this.’
“Hello? Hawick? You there?”
“Sorry, George.” Ben clenched his phone tightly. “I’ve got a call to make.”
Little River might not be on the map, but it was on the internet. Ben located the number he wanted after a quick search. He hit call and waited, expression as grim as the rows of graves surrounding him.
“Little River Sheriff’s Office, Sheriff McCall speaking.”
Ben got to the point at once. “You didn’t tell me you’d made an arrest.”
There was a long pause. Ben could imagine the sheriff tugging her hat down to hide her eyes. “That’s not how consulting works. We don’t need your permission to make an arrest.”
“You could have told me.” Ben gripped the phone. “If it’s my evidence you’re using―” He stopped. None of the evidence he had found pointed to Nate.
“Rest assured that we took everything you told us into consideration,” the sheriff said. “And there’s our own experts too. We didn’t rush into the decision, but there was new evidence found and― Well, we did what we had to.”
“The circle in the barn? The idea that the family knew about it is preposterous!”
“Circle? Now who told you about that?”
Ben ignored the question. “Even if you did find a link to the family, there’s no reason to think that Nate―”
“Nate?” There was a chuckle. “I think your informant jumped the gun.” Before Ben could answer, the sheriff continued. “No, Nate’s back in New Camden. Which is a relief. The family is taking it very calmly. Our team here has put Emma onto a good legal counsel with a supernatural background. Ethan’s in good hands.” The sheriff had the tone of someone who genuinely wished to believe what she was saying.
Ben laid his hand on the arm of the stone bench. “You arrested Ethan? But―”
“The evidence against him is entirely circumstantial,” the sheriff agreed. “But it’s a damn sight safer for him in there than it is in Little River right now. People are talking. He’s the only person in the area with any sort of difference… And well, you saw what fear does to people. Ethan is best out of that.”
“But jail?” Ben could hear the echo of Nate’s words. Prison would kill Ethan.
“Buys breathing room. Ethan doesn’t have to appear in court for at least a month. That’s plenty of time to find new evidence in the case.”
Ben looked down at his phone to be sure that it was still on. That he’d heard what he thought he just heard.
“Hello? Hawick, you there?”
“Are you saying that you arrested Ethan―even though you don’t think he did it?”
The sheriff sighed. “This supernatural stuff… It’s all over my head. I’m just a simple country sheriff. I know people, not magic. But all the same…I can’t see any son of Emma’s getting himself mixed up in anything demonic.” Just for a moment, the sheriff’s voice wavered. Ben heard the tiredness behind it. “The folks here were pushing for an arrest fast, threatening to take things into their hands if there wasn’t one, and pressure from above to control the situation. I made the call, but it doesn’t entirely sit right with me. So if there’s something to find, we won’t stop you finding it.” She hung up before Ben could reply.
✩✩✩
Ben braced himself to climb the steps to Century. Every single time he’d visited Nate at his place of work, it had ended in disaster. First the discovery that Nate had remembered Ben and his vampire family, despite Ben attempting to preserve his safety by erasing his memories. Ben snorted. Yeah. Like that had gone well. Now, he was inclined to think of Nate’s ability to resist as a gift.
Harder to accept: his own decision to leave Nate. Granted, they hadn’t even been dating at the time, but Nate had taken it extremely personally.
Have I even changed? Ben looked around Century’s foyer. I am alive now, living. No longer bound by the patterns of my past. So why do I keep repeating them?
He waved aside the sales representative, making his way through the foyer and into what was once a theater, but was now either New Camden’s greatest shame or most well-known success. To be honest, either appellation would have suited Century’s marketing team. They traded on both their scandal and their suitability, combining private club, nightclub, and brothel with luxury and exclusivity.
The remodeled theater echoed the establishment’s contradictions in its own architecture. The floor was industrial concrete, harshly minimalist, while there was no attempt made to hide the lighting frames. It could have been a modern gallery, except that the long wooden slab that made up the bar was polished wood, salvaged from the original theater, as were the boxes, enclosed tables with seating repurposed from the theater's original chairs. The stage was unapologetically old, with full, thick curtains and gilt edging.
Century had only just opened, so the stage was empty, the curtains drawn, and the club mostly bare. Its hosts and hostesses were gathered around the bar. As Ben approached, one host glided up to meet him with almost predatory quickness.
“Can I help you find what you’re looking― Oh, it’s only you.”
And to think, I was worried that I might have problems finding Aki. Ben looked at his reluctant companion. “Nice to see you too.”
Nate’s best friend didn’t bother to hide his lack of enthusiasm. He was dressed for work, his black hair freshly spiked and a leather collar worn over his silky shirt. “You’re wasting your time. He isn’t here.”
And that answered all of Ben’s questions. Easy.
Too easy.
Ben narrowed his eyes. “What makes you think I’m here for Nate?”
Aki rolled his eyes. “You’re so uptight, you wouldn’t know fun even if it turned in a complete work history and resume. The only reason you’re here is to make sure Nate isn’t having fun without you.”
“I’m not worried about Nate having fun without me.”
“Uh-uh,” Aki shook his head. “I am willing to fake sympathy for Nate, but he’s my best friend. You dumped him. You get nothing.”
Ben blinked. “Did he tell you that?”
“It’s obvious,” Aki shrugged, turning away from Ben to scan the doorway hopefully. “He phoned in a few days ago. Said his family was having some issues, he needed personal leave. Of course, we all knew what ‘personal leave’ meant.” Aki took his eyes off the door and any potential clients to eye Ben. “You guys went from Romeo and Juliet levels of reckless mutual endangerment to broken up in less time than a celebrity wedding. That has to be some kind of record.”
“That’s the thing everyone forgets about Romeo and Juliet. They never got to see how they could have handled their relationship because they died―” This was off topic. “Anyway Nate and I had a disagreement. Not a suicide pact.” Ben blinked. “How did you go from that to ‘broken up’?”
“It’s obvious, isn’t it?” Aki counted off the reasons on his fingers. “You’re in New Camden. Nate is not. Nate hasn’t touched his phone in days. Nate’s phone was a present from you. Nate’s ex is asking after him―” Aki straightened up. “Excuse me, Ben. Duty calls.” He sauntered past Ben, intent on the man who had just walked through the door.
“Wait!” Ben grabbed Aki by the hand. “What do you mean, Nate’s ex?”
“Ben! Let go! I have my student debt to think of!” Aki did his best to shake Ben off.
Ben tightened his grip. “Tell me about Nate’s ex.”
“Later! I haven’t had a decent client and―great. Tybalt’s got him.” Aki thrust Ben’s hand away in disgust. “Thanks for nothing.”
Ben looked over his shoulder. Another host had beaten Aki to the client. Evidently the man was well-known. A few others were walking over to join him.
Aki jabbed Ben with his finger. “You owe me.”
Ben did not feel particularly apologetic. “I’ll buy you a drink.” Aki brightened. “But only one drink.”
Aki sighed. “You are the literal worst.”
“Careful. Or I’ll give you a one-star review.”
Aki elbowed him. His slight form was more solid than it appeared at first glance, honed athletically. The elbow hurt. “Don’t even joke about that.”
The bar was crowded, so Ben let Aki talk him into upgrading to a table booth. The added privacy was worth the cost, and it meant Aki had slightly less to complain about, an advantage at any time. Ben waited until Aki was done moaning about New Camden’s increased supernatural regulations, the security measures that Century had just rolled out, and the stinginess of the police reward system, before turning the conversation back to Nate. “You said Nate’s ex was asking after him?”
Aki smirked, reaching for his glass. He’d gone for a ridiculous cocktail, replete with paper umbrella and straw. “So you’d better not waste any time on making up with him. The guy is rocking the hobo-chic. Blond hair, green eyes, tattoos, piercings, the works… Not to mention, a great bod… Amazing body when you think of it.” Aki’s eyes lingered with pity on Ben’s bone thin arms.
Ben tried to clamp down on the immediate feeling of insecurity. “Sandy?” Nate’s anger at Ethan took on unwelcome connotations. Ben remembered how Nate had stormed out rather than talk to Ben about him.
Aki sipped at his cocktail. “He didn’t introduce himself, but it had to be him.”
“And you’re sure he was looking for Nate?”
“Asked about him, was visibly disappointed that Nate wasn’t here, kept asking about him even when I said I didn’t know when he’d be coming back. Wanted to know everything about what Nate was up to.”
“Did you tell him where Nate was?”
Aki shook his head. “That was about the time Nate stopped responding to phone messages. Besides, the guy is all wrong for Nate.”
Ben felt a sense of relief. “You think so, too?”
Aki nodded. “Broke,” he agreed. “Nate’s already in trouble for associating with necromancers and getting killed on the job. He doesn’t need to be in trouble for giving out freebies, too.”
That’s not the point! Ben opened his mouth to point this out, instead heard his voice say, “And you think Nate would?”
Aki sighed, making an obvious effort to be sympathetic. “You’ve heard the way Nate talks about the guy, right? He’s not just Nate’s type, he’s Nate’s prototype. I’m pretty sure that Nate’s not going to be making a single smart decision around the guy… So the sooner you put an end to it the better.” His advice was only slightly ruined by the fact that he was scanning the club as he spoke, checking out the latest new arrivals.
I should just be glad I kept Aki’s attention this long. Ben frowned. Sandy’s physical description was entirely at odds with Ben’s…everything. “Me? You know Nate and I broke―”
“Nate managed to fall for you despite common sense, more attractive options, and certain death.” Aki gave Ben a look just short of being a glare. “The attraction between you two makes absolutely no sense… Which is why you have to do something about this.”
“You’re worried about Nate?”
Aki put his drink down, sitting up. Shorn of its usual attitude, his voice was softer. “You know how Nate is. Stupidly generous. Sandy… Sandy was the first person to really hurt him. Leaving the way he did without a word. There is no reason at all that Nate should still hold a torch for the guy. But he does. And that… Well, someone’s got to save Nate from himself.” He slapped Ben on the arm, sliding out of the booth. “My regular’s here. It’s been great, Ben. Don’t call again.”
Ben picked up his own soda. Aki had rolled his eyes, but after all the shocks of the day, Ben didn’t think alcohol was a good idea. The carbonation was a shock in itself, and Ben took a few slow sips of the drink. With any luck, the sugar would tide him over until he could crash.
What now? There were many reasons Nate might have taken personal leave. Being incarcerated was only one of them. The sheriff said Ethan…
But George had said ‘your boyfriend.’
I’m not going to be able to rest until I know. Ben stood. He had a long drive ahead of him.
✩✩✩
Castanea County Prison was depressing the way all prisons were depressing. The concrete facility was surrounded by open fields, miles from anything else. Ben stood beside his rental car, looking at it. For the first time, the truth of what Nate said about the place destroying Ethan really made sense.
There’s nothing here. No life. Just―concrete.
He forced himself to walk up to the building.
His ID was checked three times and there was a phone consultation with Little River and New Camden both before Ben was allowed through security screening. He found himself unaccountably nervous as he sat on one side of the thick plastic looking at the empty chair on the other side.
The door opened, a guard directing his prisoner to the seat. There was a brief moment of hesitation, and then he slumped into the chair, managing to project an air of ‘let’s just get this over with’ despite his wooden expression.
“Fifteen minutes,” the guard said and shut the door.
Ben leaned forward. It had only been a moment, but he’d seen a flicker of hurt in that moment of hesitation. “Nate. How on earth did this seem like a good idea?”
He glared back, expression unwavering. “Not Nate.” He held up his arm. “See?”
It took Ben a moment to see what was missing. Nate’s Century wristband. The personal safety device protected the club’s investments as much as Nate’s life and couldn’t be removed without specialized equipment. Destroying it would double Nate’s debt to the club.
For a moment, Ben wondered if he’d imagined what he’d seen. After all, the sight of Ben visiting him would throw Ethan too.
Looking up, Ben caught the other man’s eyes on him, before he hurriedly looked away.
“Nate,” he said. “You can’t fool me. Any more than I’ve ever been able to fool you.”
“Don’t tell anyone.” Nate leaned into the plastic urgently. “Ben, you can’t. They’ll think―”
“That Ethan’s got to be involved in a big way if you’re going to these lengths to protect him?” Ben fixed Nate with a glare. “You are an idiot, Nate. This― Of all the things you could have done, this was the worst!”
“You didn’t leave me much choice, did you?” Nate glared. “Anonymous phone tip about the barn― You couldn’t have turned us in under your own name?”
Ben stared at him. “Phone tip?”
“Like you don’t already know.” Nate sneered―or tried to. He met Ben’s eyes and stopped. “You didn’t?”
Ben shook his head. “I―realized I couldn’t blame you for protecting your brother, given that I held my tongue about my mother’s murder for years.”
Nate pressed his hands against the glass. “Ben. What?”
“I’ll tell you about it sometime when we don’t have a fifteen-minute time limit.” Ben glanced at the clock. “You really thought that I’d turn you in via an anonymous tip?”
Nate didn’t meet his eyes. “Who else could it be? No one knew the circle was there. If it wasn’t you, then who?”
“Anyone who visited your barn in the last ten years.”
Nate’s head jerked up. “What?”
“The demonic agent was active in the Little River and Rockford area ten years ago―we know that because of the Winkler murder.” Ben leaned forward. “I’m right in assuming that your family was still relatively retiring ten years ago?”
Nate nodded. “We farmed cattle then―beef, not dairy―so we had the vet in occasionally, stock trucks a couple of times a year, and Mr. Cafferty and his sons brought the bull round… You’re taking notes? You can’t be serious, Ben. These are our neighbors!”
“Who would have a better knowledge of the places in Little River and Rockford likely to be deserted than someone who lives here?” Ben continued to jot down notes on his notebook. “We know for a fact this agent has local knowledge―and that’s not all we know.” Ben put his pen down.
Nate watched closely, waiting for Ben to speak.
“This demon feeds on a genuine declaration of love from the victim. The agent deliberately cultivates an emotional connection with their victims before betraying them in the worst possible way―”
“That’s fucked-up.” Nate swallowed. His skin was pale. “Ben, I’m sorry―”
Ben shook his head. He had to get this out now, before the emotion building in his throat choked him entirely. “There’s something I haven’t told you.” He took a deep breath.
“Is it about your mother?”
Ben stared. “How did you know?”
“Ray told me about the case when they checked out the barn.” Nate hunched his shoulders, looking down at the floor. “I guess I can’t blame you for feeling strongly about demons given your mother was a victim of one.”
“My mother was the agent,” Ben said flatly. “I was the demon’s intended victim―and not just any demon. The same one that killed Harriet.”
Nate looked like he’d been slapped. “You’re not serious.”
“Deathly serious.” Ben sucked in another deep breath. “Nate, we have an almost unprecedented chance to stop a demon claiming another victim―if we can find the agent. But as long as you’re in here pretending to be Ethan, the police think they’ve got a closed case.”
Nate shook his head, slumping back in his seat. “I can’t. And you know why I can’t. George said the same thing.”
“George?” Wheels were starting to turn in Ben’s mind. “You’ll take advice from a hunter, but not from me?”
“You weren’t here!” Nate glared. “What was I supposed to do? Anyway, it’s not like I consulted her or anything. She just said that she wouldn’t like to be in Ethan’s shoes and―why are you looking at me like that?”
“You’re not helping Ethan, me―or yourself.” Ben stood up. “But that’s fine. You being in here works both ways.”
“What do you mean?”
Ben held up the notebook. “You can’t stop me investigating from in here.”
Nate got to his feet. “What are you going to do?”
“Whatever I want. And you don’t get a say in it.” Ben smiled sweetly. “Think about that, Nate.”