Claimed

  She nodded. They rode the elevator up to the roof in silence and, when the doors opened, were greeted by an armed guard. “Mr. Ferry,” he said, bowing his head in respect.

  “Hey, Adam,” Dec said as he and Galena stepped into the humid night air. “How’s it going?”

  Adam’s serious face softened a little. “Good, Mr. Ferry. Quiet night. We’re on alert, but no sign of trouble.”

  Dec put his arm around Galena’s back but didn’t touch her, just guided her over to the thick knee-high wall near the edge of the roof.

  Galena smiled as a breeze lifted a few loose tendrils of her hair. “It’s cooler up here,” she said.

  “I like coming up here for exactly that reason. One of the few places in this city where it’s actually bearable to be outside.” He sat down, and Galena did too, and then he cleared his throat. “Eli came to talk to me earlier. He said you were thinking about going through with this marriage thing.”

  “Yeah. I think I need to.” She gazed out over the city, which looked beautiful from this height. But she knew, down in the alleys, in the canal zones, in the tenements near the Common, there were people who weren’t living in this kind of luxury. Like Galena had when she was young, they were dwelling in a dangerous world where death could come through violence or illness, where life was cheap and easily lost. “I don’t think I could live with myself if I let my stubbornness get in the way of completing this vaccine.” Who was she kidding? It wasn’t stubbornness; it was fear.

  “That makes sense,” Dec said, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back, keeping his eyes directed at the city. “But it doesn’t look like an easy decision.”

  Galena pressed her lips together. “This marriage-arrangement thing is a little tricky for me on a number of levels.”

  “It would be for anybody.”

  “But I still need to do it, Dec.” She looked over to find his eyes on her, and it made her whole body feel warm. His gaze was its own kind of haven, like he was making her some silent promise she couldn’t yet hear.

  “Have you thought about what actually marrying someone would be like?” he asked. “Marriage between two Ferrys isn’t the same as marriage between two regular humans. It lasts longer, for one. It’s more . . .” He bowed his head and ran his hand over his thick hair. “The two people are more connected.”

  She stared at his hands as they came to rest on his thighs. “So I guess it’s pretty important that I choose the right guy. Assuming he’d be willing to take me on, that is.”

  “Take you on? I think you might be selling yourself short.” Dec’s eyes narrowed. “Wait. Is there something you’re not telling me?”

  Galena froze. “Wha—?”

  “Like, are you a dangerous sleepwalker?”

  “No.”

  “An obsessive neat freak?”

  “Only in my lab.”

  “Are you one of those people who alphabetizes their spice rack?”

  “I’ve never even owned a spice rack.”

  “Sounds like you need a husband who knows his way around a kitchen.”

  She arched an eyebrow. “I’d never thought of that.”

  Dec leaned forward. “I bet I make the best Dublin coddle you’ve ever tasted.”

  Now both her brows rose. “Dublin what?”

  “Coddle. It’s made with sausage and potatoes. My mom taught me.” His voice took on a note of sadness, but then he seemed to brush it off like a cobweb. “Maybe I’ll make it for you sometime. Okay, what else?”

  “Huh?”

  “What else do you require in a husband?”

  Her chin trembled. “Um, I haven’t really ever thought about it.”

  “Nice car? Does he need to have a nice car?”

  She stared at him. “No.”

  “Yacht?”

  “What? No! I can’t swim.”

  He nodded solemnly. “So you’d need someone who could save you if you fell into a canal. I happen to be an excellent swimmer.”

  Galena shook her head. “Dec, I don’t really understand—”

  “Anything else?” he asked. “Hobbies? Habits? Will you get pissed if he leaves his shoes lying around? How do you feel about pool?”

  “Pool? I’ve never—”

  “Would you be willing to learn?”

  “I guess.”

  “If he invited his friends over in the evening to play cards, would that cramp your style?”

  “I’d probably be at work. I wouldn’t want him to be lonely.”

  “What if he asked you to go with him to a fund-raiser or a gala?”

  She wrinkled her nose, and he laughed.

  “That is the best response you could possibly give to that question. Okay, what about—?”

  “Dec,” she said, “I just want someone to get me. I just want us to understand each other.”

  His expression became utterly serious. “That’s what you want in a relationship?”

  She nodded. “It’s all I want. It’s the foundation for everything.”

  Dec looked directly at her with his ice-blue eyes, and she felt like there was an ocean inside them, vast and mysterious. “Well then, I’ll do it, Galena. If you want me to.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “What?”

  He gave her a half smile. “Will you marry me?”

  All she could do was blink.

  Dec edged off the wall and knelt in front of her. Carefully, like he was afraid to startle her, he took her hands in his, holding them loosely enough that she could pull them away if she wanted to. “Galena Margolis, will you marry me?”

  She couldn’t help it—she started to laugh.

  “What, no ring?” she said, giggling.

  He groaned and ran his hands over his face. “Would you believe me if I told you I lost it while doing valiant battle with a Shade in the Veil?”

  “A ‘Shade’?”

  “Evil ring-stealing fuckers. They love shiny things.”

  “Darn. No ring. Well . . .” She looked down at him on one knee, holding her hands in his, and felt a pang of sadness. His playful expression told her this was a joke, and really, she should be glad, because it pushed away all the fear and made it possible to take this step forward. He was offering to let her, a near stranger, into his life, and somehow, he was doing it on his knees with a big grin on his face. Gratitude and admiration glowed in her chest, accompanied by a tiny hopeful spark of excitement. “Okay. I guess I can get over the ring thing. I’m not much of a jewelry girl, anyway.”

  Dec’s smile softened and became something more wistful. Slowly, he lifted one of her hands and drew it toward his mouth. Galena’s stomach did a funny little swoop as he kissed her knuckles, his lips soft and warm with the slightest scrape of stubble. “Then let’s do this,” he said. He stood up as his phone buzzed with a text. He let out an irritated growl.

  “Who is it?” she asked.

  “Aislin. She wants to talk to me.” He looked down at their hands, and Galena was shocked to see that they were still joined, and that it hadn’t bothered her at all. In fact, she liked it. His hands were hard but warm, safe but powerful.

  Dec pressed a spot on the screen and held the phone to his ear. “Hey. Yeah. I’m fine. I’m with Galena.” He paused, and Galena heard the low, steady cadence of Aislin’s voice. “Shit. You’re sure?” He rubbed his hand over his face, then gave Galena a concerned look.

  “Has something happened?” she asked quietly.

  Dec grimaced and nodded. “No, I understand,” he said to Aislin. “And it’s what I was calling about, actually. I talked to her, and we’ve decided to do it.” He paused again, his jaw clenched. “I hear you,” he said in a hollow voice. “I understand.” He hung up.

  “What is it?”

  He sat down next to her. “Another bomb went off. This one was in your apartment building.”

  “But Eli was just there—”

  “He may have set off a timer as he moved through the space. The explosion happened less than ten m
inutes ago.”

  Galena’s whole body went tight with dread. “Was anybody hurt?”

  “Paramedics and fire crews are on scene. We’ll have more information tomorrow.” Dec sighed, and he looked down at her hand, the one that might have borne a ring if this had been real, if they were actually in love, if this wasn’t a tragic joke on the both of them. “But it’s obvious that whoever’s after you isn’t giving up.”

  She was glad he was holding her hand, glad for his solid strength. “What does this mean?”

  His fingers curled over hers, and he pulled her to her feet. “The risk to you—and to the fabric of fate, the future and everything that’s meant to be—is too great for us to wait around and get to know each other,” he said. “The wedding has to take place tonight.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Dec stood on the sidewalk outside Psychopomps headquarters, scowling at the text he’d just gotten from Trevor:

  Sorry, not up for it.

  “What the fuck, Trev?” he muttered, then hit Trevor’s number.

  “Dec, my answer is no,” Trevor said as soon as he answered.

  “I need you to be there,” said Dec. “What is up with you?”

  Trevor sighed. “I’ve just been off lately, man, and I didn’t want to bother you with it.”

  “Bother me? We’ve been friends for thirty years. You helped me reattach my arm a few weeks ago.” Motherfucking Shades had almost torn it clean off.

  There was a long, heavy pause. “I know, man. I know.” Trevor’s deep-bass voice rumbled with regret. “What’s the occasion, though? Your messages were awfully cryptic.”

  Dec gritted his teeth. Aislin had insisted that no one outside of immediate family know about the wedding before it happened to prevent last-minute desperation-driven attacks on Galena. But she’d agreed to let him have Trevor as his witness, and Dec had been counting on him being here, a steady presence at his side. “It’s a pretty big deal,” he finally said. “Can’t say more than that until you’re at HQ.”

  “Psychopomps headquarters. Yeah. No, thanks.”

  Dec frowned at the uncharacteristic contempt and anger in the Ker’s voice. “At what point are you going to tell me what’s wrong? Has something happened? Are things with Greg okay?”

  “We broke up last week. And good riddance. All we did was fight.”

  Dec’s eyebrows shot up. Trevor had really liked the guy, and up until a week or so ago, he’d told Dec they’d been getting along great. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “Remember when you told me I should consider taking a vacation? That’s what I’m doing. I just need to step away from it, man. I’m tired. I’m pissed at Moros. I need to get some distance. Can you let me do that?”

  “Sure,” he said. But it stung. “Before I let you go, I need to ask you something. It’s important.”

  “Shoot.”

  “Moros said you Marked a guy named Jian Lee, and he was a research assistant for Galena Margolis. Can you tell me anything about him?”

  Trevor grunted. “You know I also Marked your father’s killer, right? This felt like the same thing. Justice.”

  And Trevor had willed Jian to commit suicide, something he hadn’t done in all the years Dec had known him. “That bad, huh?”

  “This is exactly why I need a break. I’m fed up with the whole game, and my part in it.” There was a long pause. “Good luck tonight. I gotta go.” Trevor hung up.

  Dec cursed. Something was up with Trev, but he had absolutely zero time to deal with it. The last several hours had passed in a haze. He’d taken Galena back to Cacy’s apartment and gone back to his place to crash for an hour. His dreams had been filled with her face—the way it had looked when Aislin had told her that the marriage must be consummated for Galena to become immortal. He’d woken up feeling sick. What the hell had he agreed to?

  Last night, he’d acted on impulse, out of a pure, compelling desire to make this easier for Galena. He’d joked with her and generally made an ass of himself, but it had worked, for a few minutes. She had laughed and smiled, and, goddamn, she was gorgeous when she smiled. But after she’d found out that tonight was the night, she’d withdrawn.

  He couldn’t blame her. Right now he wanted to do the same thing. And that’s why he was here. Maybe there was another way to keep her safe—by ending the threat completely.

  Dec strode into the soaring lobby of the Psychopomps tower and walked straight to the central desk. Walter was the receptionist on duty, his fingers tapping lightly at one of the many screens arrayed in front of him. Dec leaned on the counter. “How’s business?”

  Walter smoothed his hand over his thinning auburn hair. “Steady. But your sister’s been tightening security and clearances, and a few of our cousins are a bit irritable about being left out of whatever’s going on.”

  Dec was glad to hear it. The less his gossipy aunts, uncles, and cousins knew, the better. “So am I on the list?” He’d been pacing his apartment nonstop all morning—and then this idea had occurred to him. Now he just had to follow through and manage to keep his anger under control while he did. “I want to see my brother.”

  A line of concern appeared between Walter’s brows. “Yeah. You and Cacy have clearance to see him, but Aislin asked that she be notified.”

  Dec gave Walter a wry smile. “Then let her know. Which elevator?”

  “He’s on Level Four, so last one on the right. I’ll let the guard know.” He pressed a button on his earpiece and began to talk to someone else as Dec walked away. In his faded EMS T-shirt and old jeans, Dec got a few disapproving glances from the suits who were coming in for meetings, but he didn’t give a fuck. It was one of the privileges of the being the Charon’s brother.

  The guard at the elevator nodded in greeting. “Mr. Ferry.”

  Dec nodded in return. “Level Four, please.”

  The guard ushered him inside and accompanied him up to Level Four, which was a black hole of mystery to most employees of Psychopomps. But Dec knew it for what it was—the prison for Ferrys who had abused their powers. The Charon presided over their hearings, reviewed the evidence, and pronounced the sentence, which could range from death to a few days in a cell. Whenever possible, they preferred not to surrender family members to the police—too much risk of disgruntled Ferrys blabbing their secrets to the wrong people. It did happen sometimes, but their father had been a master of keeping Ferry business within the family. Dec imagined Aislin would follow in his footsteps.

  The elevator door slid open, and Dec was greeted by two more armed guards standing in the entrance area to the corridor of cells. It wasn’t a long hallway; there were only eight cells and two interrogation rooms at the end of the corridor, with a separate exit. The overhead light bounced off the white ceramic tiles. “I’m here to see Rylan.”

  Walter must have called ahead, because no one asked any questions. Dec followed one of the guards, who was armed with an electroshock baton, to a door halfway down the short corridor. It was solid metal with a video screen set into it.

  It showed an image of Rylan, his dark hair neatly combed, sporting a short, thick beard that told Dec he hadn’t shaved since he’d been imprisoned. He looked youthful—he was fit and broad-shouldered, about the same height as Dec—but in reality, he was well over a hundred years old. He was sitting at a metal table bolted to the wall, playing chess by himself.

  “When he’s not sleeping, he’s playing,” commented the guard. “Never seems to get tired of it.”

  When he’d been young, Rylan had taught Dec how to play. Dec had idolized his older brother in those days. “He’s nearly unbeatable,” Dec said sadly.

  The guard chuckled. “What does that really mean, though, if you’re playing yourself?”

  Dec stared at the screen as Rylan slid his rook across the board. “No idea.”

  The guard stood in front of the screen to let it read his facial biometrics. “Mr. Ferry. You have a visitor.”

  Rylan looked up at the camer
a, his brown eyes sharp. “Who?”

  “It’s me, Ry,” said Dec. He’d expected to feel fury at seeing his brother again. The last time they’d been together, Rylan had shot him in the neck and left him to die. If Aislin hadn’t showed up and assumed the power of the Charon, Dec wouldn’t have made it. He shuddered at the memory of those few desperate moments when he felt his grip loosening, when he’d stared at the ceiling of Galena’s apartment and wondered where he’d go—Heaven or Hell. “I want to ask you about some stuff.”

  Rylan rubbed his knuckles along his unshaven jaw. “Come on in.”

  The guard drew his finger across the video screen, and the door clicked, swinging open. “Ten minutes. That’s the Charon’s policy,” the guard told Dec. “Press the emergency button if you need us sooner than that.”

  Rylan was standing next to his table, smiling. “That’s not going to be necessary, Charlie. I think Dec could handle anything I threw at him.”

  The guard nodded at him. “Sure, Mr. Ferry.” He gave him a polite smile and closed the door, locking Dec in.

  Dec turned to find Rylan watching him. “I didn’t expect you to come,” Rylan said quietly.

  “I didn’t expect to, either. I pretty much thought I was done with you. Turns out I’m not.”

  Rylan pulled out the chair at the table. He pushed it toward Dec, its metal legs scraping along the floor, then backtracked and sank onto the single bed, the only other place to sit in the room.

  Dec sat down in the chair. “How’s mortality treating you?” Aislin had stripped Rylan of his immortal status in the aftermath of his murderous scheming.

  “I haven’t been this achy since I was a teenager with growing pains.”

  He hadn’t been a mere human since then, either. “Has she sentenced you yet?”

  Rylan tilted his head. “I figured she’d keep you in the loop, Declan. She always seemed to trust you. What’s changed?”

  “Don’t try that mind-twisting shit with me. Aislin can tell me when she’s ready.”