“Sorrel,” I said, continuing to address his current personality. “I need for you to let me in. Your father sent me with a gift for you. I must come in to give it to you.”
His eyebrows lifted. “A gift?” Then they fell into a frown. “He can’t win my love so easily.”
Oh, for heaven’s sake. It was sad I wanted the uncaring, selfish assholes back, but the emotionally exaggerated drama queen personas were frustrating. “Open the damn door,” I demanded. “Or I’ll tell him you refused the gift, and he will come up here himself to give it to you. Now, you know what happened the last time he came up to see you, right?”
Sorrel was quiet, likely remembering his father’s visit. At least he could still be threatened. “You can come in, but only for a minute.” He closed the door, and the chain slid back before he opened it.
Cinnamon had been dancing around in a toga. Sage had been modeling garish tribal wear, but nothing prepared me for Sorrel’s foyer full of secondhand furniture. I could barely squeeze through the entrance, and once in I was practically nose-to-nose with him—or Sage, whichever twin it actually was.
“Are you remodeling?” I asked.
“No,” he said, sounding offended.
The only plus to being so close was that he couldn’t get away quickly. Regrettably, it also put me in direct contact with his smell. Unwashed hellspawn wasn’t pretty. I tried not to breathe. “Here’s the gift.” I touched him on the forehead.
A slight shock passed from me to him, but he didn’t drop to the floor like the sentry or Cinnamon. I tapped him again—it couldn’t hurt. This time he passed out and almost crushed me as he fell forward.
“Sage, Sorrel?” I said, shaking him by the shoulder. “Can you hear me?”
After a few seconds, a very startled, very pissed head popped up. He glared at me and growled. I would have skittered backward, but I was pinned between him and the oversized chest of drawers behind me. He pushed himself off, yanking me up with him as he got to his feet. “What have you done to me?”
I clutched his arms, trying to push him away. To prove his strength, he lifted me off the floor. It gave me the perfect opportunity to kick him in the groin.
He dropped me and doubled over. “You bitch,” he shrieked. Straightening quickly, he launched at me. “I’ll kill you for what you’ve done.”
“Wait!” I cried, pushing my hands out to stop him.
He froze, but his eyes were still wild with fury.
“I didn’t do it. I brought you out of the spell, but I don’t know who cast it. We need to find Sorrel. He could be hurt.”
By his temper, I was certain this was Sage, although to be honest I had never been able to tell them apart. They were identical in every way, and if I hadn’t seen them at least once together in the same room, I would have suspected there was really only one of them. Sage was, of course, the bigger asshole, and if this were Sorrel, he would have already tried to kiss me.
“What do you mean?” he snarled, twisting his hand in my shirt and heaving me forward.
I tried not to panic. He was angry and strong—a hothead, but he wasn’t stupid. He’d listen to reason—I hoped.
“Look, when I got here you were over in your apartment wearing a dashiki and acting like you were crazy, saying that Sorrel was dead. I decided to see what Sorrel had to say and came
over
here, where I find
you
again—now sans the dashiki, pretending to be Sorrel and saying that you, Sage, are dead.” I left out the part about me snooping around his house and getting trapped by the life-sucking Keeper imprisoned in his upstairs mirror. It wasn’t important right now.
“What the hell is a dashiki?” he asked, his nostrils flaring.
“Tribal shirt. Not your best look.”
He tightened his fists, drawing me closer. “How did you break the spell?”
“I have no idea,” I admitted without going into the details.
He frowned. “Where’s Sorrel?”
“I don’t know. That’s what I was trying to tell you. He could be in trouble. You have clearly,” I said, turning up my nose, “not bathed in days, and both times you thought your twin was dead. We need to find him. Now.”
“Unless he did this to me,” Sage said coldly.
“Why would Sorrel do this to you?”
The idea was ridiculous. Sorrel was the least likely of the quads to do anything against the others. He was a lover not a fighter, and he was the weakest. He couldn’t have taken Sage, and no way in hell could he have taken Cinnamon. She would have broken him in half if he tried.
“Cinnamon was trapped too, there’s no way he—ugh.” I gasped as Sage shoved me against the door.
“Cinnamon.” His voice was calm, quiet, and deadly serious. “What has she to do with this?”
“Nothing,” I said quickly. “She’s been some demon’s plaything for the past few days. It isn’t Cinnamon or Sorrel. We need to find Sorrel, bef—”
I was about to add, before he winds up dead like Junior, but Sage didn’t give me a chance. He opened the door and shoved me outside. “You can go now. I’ll handle it.” He slammed the door in my face.
“You’re welcome,” I shouted at the closed door.
Selfish bastard
. I reached for my phone, but stopped when I heard a noise coming from Sage’s apartment. I inched
to
the door and heard a woman’s voice. “Shit, where are they?” she snarled, followed by footsteps padding away.
I fingered the keys in my bag. Was she searching for these?
I used Sage’s key and
,
making sure to be quiet, opened the door. The place was silent. I was about to close my eyes and let my presence find the intruder when the faintest puff of air came from my right. I spun just as a woman rushed me. She knocked me into the table by the door. My left arm was pinned as we crashed to the floor.
“These are mine,” she said, snatching the keys.
I recognized her as the demon woman I’d called Indigo from the garden in Purgatory. She was dressed the same—dark pants and a casual top. She froze when she realized who I was.
“Forgive me, mistress,” she said frantically. She held out her hand to help me up, but stopped suddenly. Her eyes focused on mine. “You’re not the one I serve,” she accused, shoving me away. She snatched the keys and disappeared.
I sat there—stunned. Indigo hadn’t recognized me in the garden. She’d thought I was the double. But how did Charles fit into all this? He had no doubts I wasn’t the double. Was he working for someone else? Great, another player—a mystery player.
A bump and thud came from upstairs. Sage must have heard the commotion. It was time to leave. I pushed to my feet, rubbing my scrapped arm, and headed for the door.
I took my phone out and powered it on. Thankfully, it still had some juice. No messages or texts from Jack—where was he? Why hadn’t he attempted to contact me? Scrolling to find his name in the contact list, I stopped when the screen dimmed and reminded me how drained my battery was. Holding my breath, I dialed the otherworldly taxi service. I cursed when the phone died in the middle of my call. Removing the battery, tapping and holding down every button, nothing I did woke it up. Dead
,
damn it. I threw it back into my bag.
At least I was in New York City. There’d be a payphone within a block or two of Sage’s apartment. I fished out Mike’s card and searched for a payphone. I spotted one on the corner near a drug store, right beside another New York City staple: a hotdog vendor.
Mike’s familiar brakes screeched to a halt just as I bought my dog.
“Where to this time?” he asked as I inhaled the lifesaving processed meat.
I couldn’t believe I was about to willingly go to
Mace
. A chill ran through me as I remembered the Keeper’s chase. I know it wasn’t really him, but the effect was the same. Unfortunately, with Sorrel MIA and Sage refusing to cooperate, Mace was the next piece of Omar’s puzzle. He was also the reason The Boss didn’t send me on hellspawn errands anymore.
Mace was the youngest quad. He was gorgeous and, according to Midge, looked the most like their mother, but his wicked violet eyes kept him from passing as a full pagan.
He wasn’t someone I trusted, but I had no choice. I trusted Omar. I had to believe Mace was trapped like the others. Enthralled to an unattractive demon that wanted him to rub her feet and feed her bonbons—would certainly be a just reward. None of the others had been themselves, and their alters hadn’t really been the cutthroat variety. I would be okay. Tap and go. That was the plan. By the time he was Mace again, I’d be out of there.
“Hey, you still with me?” Mike asked.
“Yeah. Sorry, it’s been a long day.” I pasted a smile on my face. “I need to see Mace.”
Mike raised both eyebrows. Clearly, Mace’s reputation preceded him. “Are you sure?”
No
. “Yes.”
Please believe me
.
He took a long look at me. I wasn’t in the best shape, but I had a black eye when he met me. I could tell he was a nice guy. I didn’t like lying to him, but I wouldn’t risk his life by roping him into my problems.
His brows drew together. “You don’t seem sure.”
He genuinely seemed to care—not something I was used to. Not since Mr. Harrison, my social services caseworker, anyway.
“Are you okay?” Mike asked.
I opened my mouth to say no and caught a glimpse of a picture taped to his dash. A towheaded little girl with pigtails was smiling at the camera. My voice caught in my throat. He had a family who cared about him—a daughter who loved and depended on him. I closed my mouth. I wouldn’t drag him into this mess.
I smiled, this time more convincingly. “I’m okay. Just business for The Boss.”
Obviously still not convinced, he hesitated.
I glanced at the photo again. “Your daughter is beautiful,” I said. “I never knew my dad. She’s lucky to have you—to keep
her
safe.”
He studied the picture, his brows drawing together again.
“My job’s not nearly as rewarding,” I said, “but someone’s got to do it. Right?”
His eyes were still fixed on her picture.
“Just another day at the office for me.”
After a few seconds he nodded. I was sure he didn’t believe me, but he understood. It was his job to keep her safe. He couldn’t do that if he got hurt helping me. He couldn’t save us both.
“Mace it is,” he said, putting the car into drive.
I dreaded seeing Mace, but going to The Boss with a crazy story of look-a-likes and mystery players wasn’t a better option. I had to find Junior’s killer.
“Why me?” Mike asked, dragging my attention back to him. “Why not one of the company cars?”
I didn’t have a good answer. He was challenging my ‘just another day at the office’ line. He really was a good guy, but I couldn’t tell him the truth. “Because you were nice and gave me your card and promised you’d come back for me.” I smiled, hoping that would be enough.
“My card?”
“Yeah, this afternoon when you picked me up.”
“This afternoon. In the city?”
“Yeah,” I said, realizing I wasn’t the only one having a long day.
His brows furrowed, and he peered at his daughter’s picture again. Then smiled. “Right, it was over on 52nd and…”
“No,” I said, thinking back to exactly where he’d picked me up. “54th and…Park, I think.” Was that the cross street?
Close enough
.
“That’s right.” He shook his head. “Too many long days in a row. Eventually it catches up with you.”
“Tell me about it,” I murmured.
Within minutes, the taxi stopped outside a villa in Grand Cayman. It wasn’t Mace’s style. He preferred five-star hotels to quiet bungalows by the sea. Of course, Cinnamon had been trapped in Purgatory
,
Sage had been prancing around in a dashiki
,
and a demon woman working for my double was carrying around keys for all four. I was sure this place wasn’t his doing.
The tropical heat weighed on me as I exited the taxi. I glanced around. There was a payphone by a convenience store on the corner. I’d be able to call for a pick-up as soon as I de-spelled Mace. I tilted my head at Mike.
“I can wait a few minutes if—” His phone chirped, interrupting him. He scowled at the text.
“Don’t worry,” I said. I didn’t want him to break the rules on my account. “I’ll call when I’m done.”
He raised his head. “You’ll call when you’re ready?”
“I promise.” Part of me wanted him to wait, but I wouldn’t put anyone in Mace’s
crosshairs
. The only way he could keep his daughter safe was to stay out of my trouble. And he certainly didn’t want to be on Mace’s radar.
Mike looked at his phone one more time
,
then at the picture of his little girl. He smiled and gave me a parting wave.
I waited for Mike to drive off, then headed for the bungalow. My hands were sweaty, and my heart was beating faster than normal. Mace had messed with my head the last time I’d seen him. He put me in a dream state for three days, but I experienced weeks trapped in a past reality that never happened. When he finally let me out, I had difficulty knowing what was real and what had been the dream. I didn’t trust my own memory from that time. It took weeks to fully recover, and that was only after The Boss had medical fix my memories.
Jack had been there for me too. He saved me from the darkness and gave me hope.
The Boss punished Mace. It was the only time he’d ever intervened on my behalf. Not that he told me any of this, or that I was supposed to know it happened. I’d overheard Quaid complaining. He was pissed that he now had to do my job, especially after Mace promised to never do
it
again. I was sure
it
was the mini trip into hell he’d sent me on.
I hadn’t seen Mace since the incident. He was dangerous, but he wasn’t stupid enough to defy his father. I just needed to take precautions. I couldn’t lose my memory again. It had been so difficult to come back the last time. I was hoping to find Mace inside rubbing an ugly demon’s feet, but I couldn’t count on that being the only option. The others hadn’t been violent—at least not until I de-spelled them—but Mace wasn’t exactly the poster child for good behavior.