Firebug (10 page)

Venus always preferred it when we didn't need to call in Mick—he was expensive, for one. Those purple tutus don't pay for themselves. Venus also detested having Mick in her white-carpeted kingdom. You didn't entertain the help, and she certainly didn't want him to smudge something in her underground lair. Knowing Mick, he'd charge her to clean it up after he did.

“It matters because I say it matters.” Owen grinned behind her, a chilling specter.

My mouth went dry. A smiling Owen is a portent of bad things to come.

“Sorry,” I said. “Won't happen again.” Yeah, right. Of course I would do it again. Punishment would follow, but as long as I didn't push her too far, it would be manageable.

Venus tossed her hair like she was stalking down a runway in Paris instead of reclining on a divan in a basement in Massachusetts. “If you would move closer like I keep telling you to do, then you wouldn't have to worry about this kind of thing. You could just pop in and report on your way home.” She curled out of the chair, slow like a cat, and sauntered over to me on bare feet. “I'm sure your
guardian
could keep just as good of an eye on you here.” She smiled, mockingly using the legal term for Cade as a reminder that he couldn't really guard me at all. Cade was amazing—he could cook a steak like nobody's business, he homeschooled me without complaint, and he'd even learned to sew when I'd moved in so he could replace plastic buttons with more heat-resistant material. You melt the buttons on one blouse and suddenly it's a hazard.

Cade always took that kind of precaution because he wanted to keep me safe, but what he couldn't do was protect me from Venus. Not really. He was wonderful but also totally, completely, ordinarily human. He didn't have the know-how, the connections, or the power my mom had.

Venus's cold, pale hand touched my jaw, turning my face this way and that as she inspected me like I was livestock—which was precisely how she saw me.

I dug my hands into my jacket pockets, my fingers sliding along the fire-resistant cloth Cade had sewn in, but didn't speak. This was an old argument, one she knew I wasn't going to budge on. When your life is mostly engineered by others, you don't give up the few choices you have a say in. Like where you live.

“If I didn't live far out, Owen would have to travel more, wouldn't you, Owen?” A bare twitch of an eyebrow was the only answer I got from him. And it was creepy, at that. My fellow firebug was pasty pale, having mostly converted his schedule to match Venus's. Despite popular folklore, vampires can go out in the sun, they just prefer not to. They are substantially weakened by it, and they do about as well as any other nocturnal creature in the daylight, but with enough sunblock and a parasol or umbrella, they can manage for short periods. Though Owen was no vampire, he clung so tightly to Venus that he might as well have been.

Owen pulled a hand out of his jacket pocket and blew me a kiss. I flipped him off, but in a very ladylike fashion (I batted my eyelashes and smiled), because that's the type of girl I am. Classy.

Owen wagged a finger at me slowly, his black curls shining in the light. Venus ignored us and handed me a file. My next job, and coming a little too fast on the heels of the other two, as far as I was concerned.

I opened up the file and, when I saw what was inside it, immediately tried to put it back in her hand. She wouldn't take it, so the file dropped to the floor, the papers scattering across the pristine carpet. One of her flunkies darted over and scrambled to put the pages back together. He handed it to Venus and scuttled away again. She kept her eyes on me the whole time, holding the file out for me again when it was placed in her hand.

“No,” I said. The room stilled. I swear I could hear the air move. Venus froze, her hand in the air like she'd been paused while conducting an orchestra. She was in stasis—a fly stuck forever in amber. Then I saw her pupils shrink and the tiny muscles around her mouth tighten. I felt a squeeze in my gut and a cold chill run down my spine. I was in it now. Licking my suddenly dry lips, I continued. “I don't care what beef you have with Duncan. He's off limits.”

I have a rule: I don't kill people who hang out in my kitchen. If I did that, no one would ever visit.

 

 

DUNCAN
is the closest thing I'll ever have to a grandpa, and I hang on like hell to family. I never knew my dad, I lost my mom, and I'm not losing anyone else. Even if I didn't care, Cade loves Duncan, and that's enough for me.

Cade was never close to his parents. From the stories he tells me, it sounds like he has what Lock calls pod-baby syndrome. It's like someone stole the baby his parents were supposed to have and left Cade in its place. They weren't evil, they just didn't get along with their kid. Still, they managed to go through the motions, until Cade met my mom. Cade's parents didn't like Lilia because they thought her parents were, and I quote, “ne'er-do-wells.” (They weren't entirely wrong—Lilia's parents were Coterie, so they certainly weren't up to any good most days, but I wouldn't say they
never
did well. A bit of an exaggeration there, I think.) Cade's parents forbade the friendship. Cade ignored them. The die was cast, so to speak.

By the time he turned sixteen, he'd packed a bag and decided to live in his car—a car bought with his own money. That lasted all of one week before Duncan found him camping out in the woods by Duncan's cabin. After that, Cade lived with Duncan until he was old enough to get his own place. Cade's parents didn't seem to mind. They moved to Vermont shortly after their son walked out. He gets a card every year on Christmas. They sign it with their names, not “Mom and Dad” or anything. No mention of love or missing him or even best wishes. Just their names. I don't think they even know about me. Every year he gets the card, reads it out loud, and then, with much pomp and ceremony, turns it into a paper airplane that he throws and I incinerate midflight. Tradition—it's important in a family.

Duncan always seemed to know when Cade heard from his parents. I guess it wasn't hard to gauge—one card on his birthday and another on Christmas, but still. We'd get the card, and then Duncan would show up. At Cade's birthday, he'd show up with a bottle of stout, and during the winter holidays he'd appear with mulled cider and whiskey. Then he'd sit by the fire and whittle, and I'd make him tell stories about Cade as a teenager. Even though he'd run away from home, Cade really didn't get into much trouble when he was young. Well, unless my mother was involved.

Venus knew I wouldn't take this contract, with Duncan as the target. She had to. So why push me on this? She was usually more careful, which meant she wanted him bad enough to risk losing me as an asset, or it was a trick somehow. I kept turning it around in my head and couldn't figure out my angle.

“Why him? Why now?” Everyone subtly moved back a few steps. Questioning Venus led to punishment unless she was in a good mood. Since she wasn't in a good mood until after she punished you, it was pretty much guaranteed.

Owen stayed where he was. Venus didn't scare him.

Venus looked at her nails, either admiring her manicure or wondering what damage her nails could do. It could have been either one. “I have reports that he's building his own little army. Well-substantiated reports. I can't have that happening practically on my doorstep, now, can I?”

Duncan amassing an army? For what, overthrowing the Coterie? That would interfere with his fishing. “You mean, like, a golem army?”

“What is an army of wood to my Owen?” She stroked Owen's arm, and I wanted to vomit a little.

“So, what, you think he's recruiting people or something?”

“What I know is not really your concern. All you need to worry about is you. Never make me question your loyalty, Ava. Remember that.” She ran her fingers down the chain that held her ward. Logically, I knew there was no way any traces of my blood were still on it. My blood-pact ceremony was too long ago. But it felt like the connection was still there, one touch and my blood was hers. I shivered.

None of this made any sense. I kept waiting for her to threaten me, shove Duncan's folder back in my hand, or … something. Instead, she stood there, watching me. Okay, then.

“I'm not doing it. That's final.” I scowled at Owen, my chin jutted out and defiant. “And if I catch you within burn range of him, I'll roast you myself.”

A soft smile played across Owen's lips as he made a lick of flame dance across his knuckles, the glow flickering as it wove its way to index to pinkie and back again. “You mean you'll try,” he said lightly. His finesse was amazing, I had to give him that.

“If I'd meant
try
, I would have said so.” I was angry, tired from all the politics of the evening, and ready to go. In my book, Owen was long overdue for a smack-down.

Venus clucked at us. “Sometimes you two are worse than children. You don't want me to make you behave, do you? I didn't think so.” She had a strange look on her face; it made my heartbeat quicken and my palms sweat. You didn't say no to Venus. And I certainly didn't have any grounds to refuse her order. According to my blood pact, she owned me. Up until now, I'd contented myself with tiny rebellions, things that annoyed her but certainly didn't do a whole lot. But this—well, I was being stupid. Was Duncan worth it? I thought about last winter when he'd stopped into the bookshop and given Cade and me an ornament he'd hand whittled—it was a very Horatio-looking cat relaxing on a book. Cade had loved it so much that it stayed up well after Christmas on our counter. Yes, Duncan was worth it.

“Can't blame me for trying.” Venus never took her eyes off me. Her tone told me that she absolutely
could
blame
me
. “Surprising, though, you of all people defending Duncan. Yes,
very
interesting.” She smiled then, and it was sickly in a cat-eating-a-whole-aviary-of-canaries kind of way. I didn't like that smile.

“He's not part of Coterie business,” I said. “Leave him be. Please.” I wanted to look away but knew it was a bad idea. It had hurt to say “please” to Venus. “I don't ask for many favors. Whoever gave you your information, they're wrong.”

“You appear to know very little about what is or is not part of Coterie business, my little bug.” She stepped closer to me. “Even if what you said were true, it doesn't matter. My business
is
Coterie business. Understand?”

I held her gaze, even though my eyes were starting to water from not blinking. What did she mean, “if what you said were true”? I may not know every single person in the Coterie, but I knew that Duncan wasn't involved. Was she hinting at things I didn't know, or was she just messing with my head?

“Yes,” I finally said, when it was clear she was waiting for me to respond.

“You need to sleep more,” she said. Her hand caressed my temple, then pulled back slowly. In a blink, she'd slapped me, thankfully not into unconsciousness. Enough to sting and remind me who was boss, though. Enough to draw blood where the inside of my cheek met teeth. I didn't pass out, but I fell to my knees, my hand cupping my cheek as my vision tunneled. Venus leaned over me, her ward swinging. I had a flash of memory, an image of her ward in my blood. Even though it dangled in my face, I couldn't reach out and tear it off her neck. The pact forbade it.

Constructed by Coterie lawyers, signed in my blood, and sealed by a blood witch—there was no way I was wiggling out of the pact safely. Unless Venus died, or—much more likely—I died, I wasn't getting out. Oh, and the incredibly likely option of her letting me free was always there. Yeah, right. I could always track down the blood witch and ask her to undo it, but since that would result in a quick and messy execution for both of us, it wasn't really an option. I had to face it. I was bound to Venus. It was the only way she allowed me to live. Let Cade live. The platinum of the swinging charm taunted me, and I couldn't so much as reach out to it.
Stuck
, it said.
You're stuck with the rest of us
.

Hmm. If I thought the necklace was talking to me, maybe she'd hit me harder than I thought.

My head complained about me standing so soon, but I didn't want to stay on the floor. She handed me the file again. I used it to wipe off the blood that had dribbled from the corner of my mouth. Then I handed it back to her with a tight-lipped smile. It felt like the temperature in the room dipped about ten degrees, and I heard a few audible gasps from our audience. Venus could kill me right now and be within her rights granted by the pact. I had blatantly disobeyed her, and I'd done it openly and flagrantly. I was banking my continued health on the fact that she needed me—that I was worth too much. If the bet had Vegas odds, I wouldn't have staked money on it. Even with my worth, the outcome did not look good. Would Cade be safe with me gone? Or would Venus track him down out of some perverse sense of vengeance? I could only hope that Duncan would take care of him.

She stared at me for a few breaths while we all waited to see which way she would swing. A sudden image of her as a Roman emperor filled my mind. Venus in the Colosseum, watching gladiators battle for her, waiting for her to give a sign as to whether they lived or died. Would it be thumbs up or down? Cheery. She finally shooed me away with one hand. “Go, rejoin your friends, then.”

A light dip of the head—as close to a bow as she was going to get from me—and I was out the door. Even though I walked at a normal pace, I couldn't get out of Hell fast enough.

5

A
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