practice now that they’re both airline attendants.
All is well until the autumn afternoon I get a call from Marna.
“Hallo?” she shouts. “What is that noise?”
“Music.” I’m stretched out on my bed with a hand under my head. Rage Against the Machine is blaring through the room: The microphone explodes, shattering the molds . . .
“Well, I can’t bloody well hear you!”
I flick it off with the remote and silence falls.
“Honestly, Kai. You’re likely to go deaf.” When I don’t respond, she sighs. “You alone, then?”
“Yeah. You?”
“Just me and Gin. Father’s up north.”
She sounds nervous and it puts me on edge. “What’s up?”
“Something.”
I sit up, waiting, but whatever it is, she won’t say it over the phone. My heart picks up speed.
“Everyone all right, then?” I ask.
“Yes . . . we’ve just had visitors. I’m sure you’ll hear everything soon.”
Visitors. She’s dying to tell me—I can hear it in her voice.
“Did ‘A’ visit?” I ask.
“Mm-hm.”
Something’s up, and it involves Anna. I stand and begin to pace. “Who else?”
She clears her throat. “K.”
I stop.
“They’re taking care of some business, that’s all,” she says. “But you should be on the lookout.”
“Did someone send them on this business?”
“Yeah. B.”
B . . . ? Oh, Belial. I have no patience for these riddles we have to use.
“What are we talking about here, Marna?”
“Tell him not to get his knickers in a bunch,” Ginger pipes up in the background. “They’re both too proper to be anything more than friends.” She says the word with disdain.
“They’re traveling together for business purposes.”
What the hell is going on? Why has Belial sent Anna and Kopano traveling together?
I let out a low growl and Ginger mutters to her sister, “Told you not to call him.”
“I’m sorry,” Marna whispers. “Don’t be upset, Kai. It’s not bad.”
Not bad. “I’ve got to go.”
I hang up and pace the floor, growing more and more unsettled. I switch the music back on, letting it rattle my eardrums. For whatever reasons, good or bad, Belial has Kopano and Anna working together.
I can scarcely breathe. I bend into a crouch, grabbing my hair in my fists.
I can tell myself over and over that I want her to stop loving me, but it’s a damn lie. The only thing that’s gotten me through the past ten months has been my hope that she’s thinking of me at night, as I’m thinking of her.
My phone rings again and I snatch it up, hoping it’s Marna. But it’s Blake. I hesitate, then switch off the music again and answer.
“Yeah.”
“You okay, man?”
“Fine,” I say through gritted teeth. Marna obviously called him to check on me.
“Don’t go jumpin’ to conclusions, brah. I’m sure it’s nothing.”
I can’t help it—it’s my nature to go straight to the worst-case scenario. “Do you know anything?” I ask.
“Nope. Same as you. Freakin’ weird, though, right? They’ve got me curious as hell.”
“Yeah,” I mutter. “Swear you’ll tell me if you hear anything. No matter what.”
“I swear, Kai. No worries, though. I’m sure it’s fine.”
I’m not sure at all. And I know it’s going to kill me, waiting to find out.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Partying with Pharzuph
“Now the son’s disgraced, he who knew his father when he cursed his name . . .
But it broke his heart, so he stuck his middle finger to the world.”
—“Let It Rock” by Kevin Rudolf
It’s never good to see your demon father’s name on the mobile ID. I haven’t spoken to him in ages.
“Is your band available in two weekends?” Father asks.
“I believe so, sir,” I say, wondering what this is about.
“Pristine is having an Oktoberfest party to celebrate our new fall and winter models. Someone mentioned hiring a band, and I thought of Lascivious.” He says this as if it’s a brilliant idea, and he’s doing me a great favor. My chest constricts.
Pristine—the world’s leading pornographic magazine. Father. Models . . .
I know what happens at these parties—I’ve been to plenty.
I rub a hand down my face, thinking of my ten-month streak coming to an end. I force a response.
“Thank you, Father. Sounds excellent. I’ll speak with the band, to be certain.”
“I’m sure you can work it out—shuffle your schedule if needed. I’ll send the jet.”
We hang up and I launch my phone across the room. It smashes against the wall and falls in several pieces. Damn it. I don’t feel like visiting the wireless shop.
I collapse back onto the couch, pressing the heels of my hands into my eyes. The pain of not working has finally simmered into a dull daily thrum that’s bearable.