Kicking It(65)

I stared back at him, absolutely furious. “You’re calling me a coward?”

“I wasn’t, actually, but now I am. You know why? Because that’s exactly what you are. A coward. You’re pushing me away because you’re scared. Scared you’ll lose me. Scared you’ll lose yourself. Scared you’ll lose our friendship.”

“That’s a decent reason to be cautious.”

“You aren’t being cautious. You’re in denial.”

“We’re going to fight about this right now? Right now?”

Luc threw his hands into the air in obvious exasperation, the move sending a shock wave of magic through the room.

“When else would we fight about it, Lindsey? I thought we were over this. I thought I’d finally managed to scale the wall you’ve built around yourself. But apparently not. Because you want to go to New York—knowing you’ll have to face something big and nasty—by yourself. Because you don’t want me there with you? No,” he said. “No, you expressly want me to stay. You can’t even fathom taking me with you.”

“This isn’t about you. It’s about me.” I slapped a hand on my chest. “Me.”

“No,” he said, sadness in his eyes that made my stomach ache. “It’s about us.” He looked down, the pressure in the room changing so quickly I nearly took a step back from it. “I’ll tell Ethan you’re leaving.”

“This isn’t about us,” I persisted, but once again, we both knew I was lying.

“Good-bye, Lindsey,” he said. And then he turned and walked out of the room, leaving the door ajar.

I blinked back tears, and blew out a breath to compose myself. It didn’t matter what happened here, with him. Getting back to New York and taking care of business—that’s what mattered.

I crouched, flipped back the rug that covered the hardwood floor, and pulled up a board I’d loosened many years ago. In the cavity, I’d kept a few mementos from my time as a vampire, including a folder containing information about Danny O’Hare and the Rookery, the neighborhood where he and Tommy DiLucca had held court. The Rookery held a good chunk of the city’s supernatural populations, and according to my research, it hadn’t changed much over the decades. Whether because of the sups’ magic or the humans’ fear, the Rookery and its occupants had been left to their own devices.

The neighborhood still housed the Green Clare, which according to state records was still owned by “William Daniel O’Hare.” It’s not that I’d expected O’Hare or anyone else from the Rookery to look for me after all these years—they hadn’t known I was alive, after all—but I was a Cadogan guard. Luc had trained me to anticipate and prepare, however unlikely the threat might be.

Tears threatening again, I zipped up my duffel and pulled the strap over my shoulder. “Take care of business,” I murmured to myself.

I kept repeating those words all the way downstairs, to the front door, down the sidewalk, and out the gate to the waiting gypsy cab.

Not once did I actually believe them.

—

Lights—red, white, amber, green—blurred through the fog as the cab sped toward the airport. I rolled the window down a crack, just enough to feel the stiff breeze on my face. That didn’t diminish the guilt about the fight or the lingering sense that I’d been wrong about the whole thing, but what was done was done.

And it seemed like Luc and I were done.

I wiped my cheeks, rolled the window up, and crossed my legs. I was a Cadogan vampire, a fashionista, a fighter. A woman who’d seen more in a decade of life than most humans saw in a lifetime. I didn’t need another warden—or someone who validated my existence.

And that’s what I kept telling myself.

I made it onto the plane—the last one out of Midway for the night—just before they closed the doors, and slid into my seat in first class. I’d saved enough money over the years that I could afford the upgrade. I’d checked my duffel, as it held the only weapon I’d brought with me, a small dagger that would fit neatly inside a boot.

Only half the seats on the plane were filled, and their occupants looked exhausted and slept soundly, heads pressed against windows or against the headrests of reclined seats. As they slept, I stared out the window, wide-awake and grieving. I watched the dark earth pass beneath us, cities glowing like amber circuits in the dark.

The airport was empty when we landed, except for a few stranded passengers and shop staff refilling their stock in preparation for the next day’s flights.

I grabbed a cab and headed toward the Rookery. It was a narrow, dark, and dingy rectangle of blocks near the East River, as close as New York came to Gotham. The cab dropped me off on an ominous-looking corner, steam rising from subway vents and the scent of smoke and decaying buildings filling the air.