I didn’t feel too great about sneaking around inside Arrow’s house while he was away, but Rowen had insisted on searching for clues, so I’d come to keep him out of trouble. Neither of us knew what we were looking for, but Rowen was sure we’d find some kind of evidence that would clear Arrow’s name.
I doubted that. If anything, we’d find just the opposite.
Trying to talk Rowen out of it had been fruitless. After the girls and I played our set at The Spirit Room, he had been all over me with his insistence that he needed to do this. So we’d cut the night short and here we were.
The house was dark and empty, yet it felt alive, like it was its own entity. Or maybe that was just my paranoia. I hadn’t been to Arrow’s house since the night he drugged me in order to take a photo of me in his bed, which he used as blackmail to keep me away from Rowen.
Wait, why was I helping Arrow?
Oh, right. It was my calling.
“There’s got to be something here. Anything. We just need some kind of proof that he couldn’t be involved in a ritualistic murder. Arrow’s not the demon-summoning, ritual-performing type.” There was doubt in Rowen’s voice, as if he were starting to second-guess what his brother was capable of.
Rowen rifled through the kitchen drawers, pausing to scrutinize some mail. Deciding it was irrelevant, he slammed the drawer shut and went on to the next. Trying to feel like I was contributing, I did the same on the other side of the kitchen.
When we found nothing we moved on to the living room. It was a mess. Clothes littered the floor and couch as if Arrow disrobed at random wherever he happened to be standing. I kicked aside a t-shirt near my foot, recoiling when it revealed a half-eaten apple.
“Shit, dude.” I wrinkled my nose in disgust as I surveyed the room. “I know you said you did a lot of cleaning up after Arrow, but this is fucked. He’s nothing but an animal without you here.”
Rowen had had to move out. Once he chose the light, living with a dark nephilim was dangerous. It seemed that Arrow had no interest in making his house a home. Or habitable for that matter.
“He used to have a cleaning lady, but she quit after finding a toilet explosion in the bathroom.” Rowen snickered, finding it funny in the way only a guy could.
“Ew, don’t tell me anymore. I might throw up.” I stood back, watching Rowen pick through the coffee table. No way was I touching anything unless I had to.
Finally, like I knew we would, we came to the bedroom. I cast a fierce scowl at the bed where I’d woken up in my underwear. Arrow was such a jerk. I’d set his pillow on fire though, so that was something.
“Where do we even begin?” From the closet to the dresser and everything in between, I eyed it all with distaste.
“Check the closet. I’ll dig around under the bed.” Rowen gave me a look that said I didn’t want to know what Arrow kept under his bed. That was for sure.
With my hand on the closet door, I said a small prayer that nothing inside would traumatize me for the rest of my life. Then I jerked it open. Instead of a bar for hanging clothes the closet was lined with shelves. Most of them did contain clothing but others held such things as electronics cords, disposable cell phones, and various stage-attire accessories.
I picked through some spiked collars and leather wristbands then dug through his clothing, feeling like I was committing some kind of crime by doing so. A glance over at Rowen informed me that he wasn’t finding whatever he was looking for. His expression was blank, but there was the hint of a frown tugging at his lips.
“You know I have to go after him, right?” Rowen said suddenly. “I have to. They probably have him in Dash’s house. Or whoever’s house that is.”
“Not tonight, you don’t. Rushing into anything is too dangerous, Rowen. I know you’re concerned, but being hasty won’t help Arrow.”
A box of condoms fell off the top shelf, smacking me on the head. They were Magnums, the large kind. I giggled, clapping a hand over my mouth to stifle the sound. I’d seen Arrow’s package when he leaped out of bed naked. He was a respectable average but clearly thought otherwise.
“Find something?” Rowen asked, moving to the dresser to dig through the drawers.
“Nothing important.”
I was starting to think it was a safe bet that there was nothing to be found. And then I found the shoebox on the floor buried underneath a few blankets. As soon as my gaze fell upon the battered box, a butterfly took flight in my belly.
Grasping the corners of the lid, I gingerly pried it off. Tissue paper covered whatever was inside. I didn’t want to look but knew I had to. Brushing the paper aside I had a hard time making out what I was seeing in the dark corner of the closet. Then my brain caught up with my eyes, and I choked on a gasp.
Buried in the bottom of the box was a knife with an upside down pentagram etched into the handle. The blade was covered in dried blood. I held my breath, careful not to touch the knife in any way.
I glanced up to find Rowen busy digging through Arrow’s underwear drawer. If I hadn’t just found a bloody ritual tool, I’d have found it funny that he had boxer shorts with hearts on them.
For a split second I considered not telling Rowen. I could just close the closet and say I found nothing, then tell Cinder later. But Rowen and I were not just crazy in love, we were also on the same side. I couldn’t lie to him.
“Um, Rowen.” My voice was breathy, frightened.
He turned abruptly at the sound, panic in his eyes.
I shook my head, wishing we’d never come here at all. “I think I just found the murder weapon.”
Arrow’s underwear was forgotten as Rowen sprang toward me. “Show me.”
With great reluctance I stepped back and pointed to the shoebox.
He snatched it from the closet, bringing it into the light. Staring into the box, he paled.
“Maybe it’s from something else,” I offered, willing to do anything to wipe that tragic expression off his face. “It could be animal blood. Arrow did bring Dash a rooster once. I saw it.”
Rowen swallowed hard. “But did you see him kill it? Did you see the weapon that was used?”
“No.” Seeking out reasons to explain the knife, I tried again. “He came straight to my place. He couldn’t have come back here to hide this first. We don’t know this was used to kill Vicky. There could be any number of explanations for this.”
My pulse raced because I knew no good could come from having found this weapon. I felt helpless as I watched Rowen scrub a hand through his vibrant blue mohawk. His panic was tangible.
“We need to know if this is human blood.” He sat heavily on the end of Arrow’s bed, staring into the shoebox. “Can Jett help?”
“I’ll call her.” Vacating the bedroom allowed me to breathe. Arrow’s room had been stifling. Unable to stand the sight of the living room garbage and laundry disaster, I went outside.
The cigarette I stuck between my lips wasn’t going to help anything—just shave a few more minutes off my life—but right then I needed it. Finding a pack in the living room hadn’t been hard. My call to Jett went unanswered. Swearing in frustration, I sat on the front step and smoked, staring at the house across the street. It was the first cigarette I’d had in weeks. I was quitting. Again.
I thought about Arrow’s desperate voice in my ear, begging me to keep Rowen out of this. Didn’t he realize how stubborn Rowen was? He had a kind heart, too kind at times, and a gentle spirit, but there was also fire in that spirit. He would not be swayed from something he believed in.
My phone rang, electric guitars screaming through the night. I silenced it fast, relieved to see Jett’s name on the screen. “I need your help,” I said without giving her a chance to speak.
By the time she showed up in a taxi half an hour later, I’d gone through three cigarettes and was considering another. The taste it left in my mouth was downright nasty. I’d quit again first thing in the morning. Rowen hadn’t ventured out of the house, and though I’d considered checking on him, intuition told me to give him some time alone.
Jett was tipsy from the after party I hadn’t hung around for. She sobered when I explained the situation.
Her gaze strayed past me to the door. “Rowen’s inside?”
“Yeah.” I sighed, shoulders slumped. “He’s been in a real mood since Arrow left with Koda. Arrow asked me to keep Rowen out of this. He said it’s about Rowen, not him. I don’t know what to do, Jett.”
She plucked the unlit fourth smoke from my fingers and sparked it up. “Not much you can do other than what you have to, whether it fits with what Arrow and Rowen want or not. You’re the keeper of the Midnight Star. That means you call the shots when it comes to stepping in on behalf of another nephilim. They don’t.” She made it sound so simple.
Maybe it was; maybe I was overthinking the whole thing. “Come on.” I stood up and stretched, my limbs stiff from the hard concrete stoop. “Let’s get this moment of truth over with.”
Worried that Rowen might be having a moment he wouldn’t want witnessed, I made noise as we entered. It wasn’t hard with Jett being half-drunk and crashing into the jacket-laden coatrack just inside the door.
“Rowen,” I called. “Jett’s here.”
“In the living room.” There was a strange lilt to his tone. We found him sitting on the edge of the coffee table with the bloody knife still in its box. Had he been staring at it this whole time?
“Hey, man,” Jett said, casual and relaxed, a stark contrast to both Rowen and me.
Without a word Rowen handed the box to her. She took it, examining the knife inside before raising the box close to her nose. She sniffed lightly, closing her eyes, taking in all of the information that scent could give a predator.
I watched with my heart in my throat.
Her dark eyes snapped open, and she looked to me with a slight shake of her head. “Sorry, guys,” she said, a catch in her husky voice. “It’s human.”
* * * *
Rowen slept fitfully beside me. After leaving Arrow’s we’d gone back to my apartment so I could check on Seth, dropping Jett at home on the way. The knife was currently back in its box, sitting on my kitchen counter. We didn’t know what else to do with it.
It had been the wee hours of the morning when Rowen calmed down enough to sleep. He’d been a mess of emotion, swinging from anger at Arrow and Dash to fear and panic, worry convincing him that he needed to go to Dash’s house.
Reminding him of the meeting we all had with Joe in less than twelve hours had helped get his mind focused on the other side of life, the day-to-day world of chasing dreams and goals. Though we knew the meeting was about the damn song that Jett and Arrow were fighting over, it was still important, and we had to be professional.
I lay awake long after Rowen fell asleep. Staring out the window at the fading night beyond, I questioned what exactly my role in this was. It seemed that I couldn’t save both brothers and that being light didn’t make Rowen safe even now.
Just before dawn the amethyst stone in the handle of the Midnight Star began to glow, a deep purple light that lit up the room. I sat up, clutching the sheets tight in both hands, heart racing.
As I gazed into the violet light, a warmth crept over me. A sense of comfort accompanied it, the assurance that, live or die, all would happen as it should if I would just believe. Worrying meant living in a time that might never come, and I was needed in the present.
The light faded, and I lay back down, cuddling in close to Rowen who slid an arm around me and pulled me against him without waking. Sleep pulled me under, and I welcomed it, grateful to escape into the bliss of unawareness.
Not nearly enough time passed before the scent of coffee and noise from the kitchen woke me. Cinder. I was awake and upright, blinking the sleep from my eyes. The bed was empty.
Voices low in discussion drew me. Rowen was out there already. I searched the closet for my robe before settling on baggy PJ pants with zombie heads on them and a Slayer t-shirt I’d stolen from Rowen.
“Couldn’t someone have planted it in his house?” Rowen’s voice reached me first as I emerged from the bedroom. “He’s being framed, Cinder. I’d be willing to bet on it.”
“Don’t be too quick to gamble with your integrity. Defending a murderer comes with great consequence. Emotion will lead you to compromise yourself if you’re not able to stand back and see things for what they are.” Cinder’s tone stayed calm, soothing.
They both looked up at my approach. The two of them sat at the table, drinking coffee and eating bagels. The knife box sat right where we’d left it.
“Good afternoon, Ember,” Cinder greeted me, pointing to the coffee maker. “Grab a cup and join us. It seems this situation has taken a turn.”
I hurried through the motions of dumping sugar and milk into a mug before filling it to the brim with coffee. “How so? The knife?”
Cinder waited with great patience for me to sit down. He nodded. “Yes. It hums with Arrow’s energy. There is no doubt that he’s used it. It belongs to him.”
Rowen looked pale and acted withdrawn. The circles beneath his eyes revealed his lack of genuine rest. He said nothing, staring down into his mug as if he could fall into it and be free of the situation.
“Jett said the blood is human.” I sipped the hot coffee, needing it even though it burned my tongue. “Are you saying Arrow killed Vicky then? He doesn’t remember anything, Cinder. I don’t think he lied about that.”
“No. Neither do I.” Cinder was quiet a moment, pondering. He shoved the plate of toasted bagels closer to me, along with some cream cheese and a butter knife. “This may be difficult for you both to understand, but please, bear with me.”
Rowen and I exchanged a look. My stomach tightened, and the sight of the cream cheese made it flip. Dread filled me. I could always tell when Cinder was about to say something I didn’t want to hear.
“We’re bearing.” I gestured for him to continue, to just spit it out before the anticipation crushed me.
Cinder clasped his hands and leaned forward. Both brows drew together into a serious frown. “I believe Arrow did kill Vicky. If I’m not mistaken, he’s a sleeper agent for Dash. And he has no idea.”