“A decorator selected everything, and I was expected to keep it clean.” A room should be a sanctuary, but mine became a gilded cage over the years.
There’s a bottle of champagne chilling in a bucket of ice. What Killian wanted me to see?
I pop the bottle’s cork and pour the contents on the white rug at the end of the bed. Last time I had alcohol, I got stupid. Well, stupider.
Sloan laughs. “You dirty the carpets while I plan to torch an entire house. How do we even like each other?”
I smile at her. “Maybe we shouldn’t dig too deep.”
“That’s true.” She sighs, the amusement leaving her with the breath. “Okay, so. Let’s get down to the nitty-gritty. I need your advice.”
The reason Killian sent me away? “Shoot.”
“Well, I kinda threw myself at Deacon, and he kinda turned me down.”
“Kind of?”
“He told me he’ll never date anyone outside his realm, and no one in his realm would ever do what I’m planning—the torching, in case you need a reminder—so I sent him away. Then James showed up and I thought, as crappy as he is, maybe he’ll make Deacon jealous and you know, spur the guy into motion. And I know, I know. I’m immature. Whatever.”
“I don’t hear a question.”
“Well, you know how eager I am to avoid Many Ends.”
“I do. And having been there—twice—I can officially give the realm a one-star rating.”
“What! You died? Twice? Why am I just now hearing about this?” She stomps over and slaps my arm. “What was it like?”
“Well, if your worst nightmare and the black plague had a baby, and that baby grew up to marry the boogeyman, and they had a baby, that baby would be Many Ends.”
“Wow.” She plops beside me. “You want to know what’s sad? That’s only slightly worse than I imagined.”
“What are you waiting for?” I asked. “Why haven’t you signed?”
She nibbles on her bottom lip. “Myriad and Troika refuse to give me what I really want.”
“Which is?”
“Vans’s spirit. I hate him more than I love anything else.” In that moment, she reminds me of a live wire—ready to strike the first person dumb enough to touch her. “Troika doesn’t play that way, and Myriad says they can’t get to him, that he died as an Unsigned and ended up in Many Ends.” I can hear the hate in her voice; it’s so thick I figure it must be choking her. “My only real option is to go to Many Ends myself.”
No. I don’t want that for her. “Holding on to the past prevents you from grabbing on to a better future.”
“I don’t care. You don’t know the things he did...”
I reach out and take her hand. Her tremors vibrate into me.
A tap sounds at the window. I share a frown with Sloan before walking over to investigate. Nothing seems out of the ordinary, and yet there’s another tap. I open the pane and lean out.
A boy I’ve never met is dangling from the edge, white-knuckling the ledge.
“Who are you?” I demand.
He meets my gaze and smiles. “Why don’t you take a guess?”
You’ve got to be kidding me. Deacon’s eyes. “What are you doing out there? Come in, come in.”
“Don’t mind if I do.” He kicks a leg over the ledge and hoists himself the rest of the way. He plucks the device Killian attached to the pane before shutting the window. “I tried coming in as a spirit first. As you can guess, it didn’t work.”
I glance outside. There are armed men patrolling the backyard and probably the entire property. To keep Troikans away from the party—or me inside it? I draw the white curtains with a flick of my wrists.
“Who the hell are—” Sloan sucks in a breath. “Deacon?”
“The one and only.” He shows off his ripped biceps. “What do you think of the new Shell?”
“It’s...weird.” He’s bald and now that I have a full view of him, I realize he’s mostly naked, his skin nearly translucent, causing him to blend in with his surroundings. His junk is wrapped with a loincloth, making him look like... “This is awesome! You’re a Ken doll.” I laugh.
“I am not.” He glares at me. “And stop staring at my package, perv.”
“Are all Shells so anatomically incorrect?” Sloan asks, and she’s staring harder at his package than I am. “Or is this the real you? Should we call you Microman?”
“Only camo Shells are like this, thank you very much.” He gets real serious real fast. “Once a month