6 Under The Final Moon (18 page)

“Stay back!” he barked.

Tears were blurring my vision. “She’s my best friend!”

He raised the extinguisher and pulled the pin at the same moment the front door opened. Nina, in a frilly apron that was splattered with something that must have once been alive, grinned from the doorway.

“Oh, you’re home! And you brought Will!” She scanned him, her smile beginning to fall. “Who didn’t exactly dress for the occasion.”

“Nina! Get out! Something is in there! There’s fire! Fire!” I was panicked, screaming maniacally. I threw my arms around Nina’s still-cold skin, throwing all my body weight backward, trying to move her from the throes of death.

I couldn’t budge her.

“So, nothing’s burning then?” Will asked.

“Burning? No, of course not. But I’m so glad you’re here. Sit, sit!” She bustled us into the apartment, shoving us toward the dining table that had been set with pink napkins and a fistful of wilting flowers shoved in an empty Prego jar.

Once Nina turned her back on us, heading toward the kitchen, Will leaned in to me and opened his mouth. I abruptly held up a hand and shot him a warning glance. “Don’t talk. You never know what’s going on when she’s like this.”

“I heard that,” Nina sung from the kitchen.

We stayed silent and Nina returned, oven mitts up to her pin-thin elbows, something horrendous in a nine-by-thirteen-inch metal pan between her hands, the noxious odor wafting up from it. She dropped the pan on the table between Will and me. It landed with a dead-weight thunk.

“I made brownies!”

“Out of what?”

I elbowed Will hard in the ribs and tried to keep my eyes averted from the smoking pile of whatever in front of us.

“Mmm, Neens, thanks! It—that—they look fabulous.”

Will gaped at me. “What is wrong with you?”

“What is wrong with
you
?” I hissed under my breath. I took a pink napkin, laid it on my palm, and held out my hand. “I’d love one, Neens.”

Nina preened like a peacock hopped up on antidepressants and dug a spatula into the brownies. Her smile faltered just the tiniest bit, but she lifted out a brownie and slapped it into my palm. It kept its shape for a half-second before melding into the napkin, hunks of something that could have been chocolate chips or asphalt sliding over the edge of my hand and falling onto the table. I pinned my lips together and smiled, forcing myself to utter an “mmm.”

Nina wasn’t convinced. She dropped the spatula on the table, bits of brownie shooting over Will and me. She slumped into a chair, holding her wobbling chin in her hands.

“This is awful!”

“Oh, no, Neens, don’t be so hard on yourself!” I looked at the slopping mess in my hand. “They’re just a little undercooked. A lot of people do that on purpose because they like their brownies gooey.”

She looked hopeful and I painfully realized I had cheered myself into a corner. I leaned forward and took a little nibble.

I couldn’t stop my gag reflex. “Oh, God, Nina!”

Her lower lip popped out. “It wasn’t my fault! We didn’t have any stupid cream of tartar. I had to make my own.”

I stopped guzzling everything liquid in the house and looked at her.

“You can’t make cream of tartar,” Will said. “Can you?”

“How did you make cream of tartar?”

Nina groaned and threw open the refrigerator door. “Okay, so I didn’t make it from scratch. It just seems so ridiculous. You know, cooking wasn’t this difficult when I still chewed.”

She slapped a bottle of tartar sauce—mainly just little chunks of pickle in the few sad wisps of mayonnaise—in front of me.

“Do you know how long it took me just to get the cream?”

After the brownie debacle was redeemed by an extra-cheese pizza and a side of crazy bread, the conversation switched from what star was liposuc-tioning what body part and turned, as it does, to Armageddon.

“You made it through the day unscathed, so that’s a plus, right?” Nina said cheerfully.

I immediately grabbed the box that was holding all of my information on the case and plunked it in the center of the table. Two hours later, everything we had, all the information I’d gathered, was spread out on the dining room table, and Will, Nina, Vlad, and I all took turns staring at it blankly.

“None of this really fits together,” Will said.

“Yeah, it’s like Lucas has evil ADHD. First he lights a vampire on fire, then he’s got crazy people starting fires, and the dog and the kid, and then he sets off the Grigori. . . .” Vlad frowned, leaning back in his chair.

Nina cradled her head in her hands. “It’s like he’s just throwing random stuff at you, Soph, then just, hiding out. Frankly, I’m a little disappointed. I kind of thought the devil would be way more organized. You know, strategic attack, A-plus-B-equals-C kind of thing. Even I can plan a more sinister and orderly attack plan.”

I nodded. “Every text says he’s smart. Brilliant, even. But he’s . . .” I let the word trail off as something hit me. “But he’s not unorganized. He’s not stupid. He’s playing tricks.”

Will’s brows shot up. “Come again?”

I was about to answer when there was a quick, insistent knocking on the door. I pulled it open and Alex shoved past me. “I’ve got to talk to you about some—”

He paused in the foyer, his leather jacket in mid slide over his arms as he took in the assembled crew. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Actually, you just interrupted Sophie’s big breakthrough, bloke.”

My cheeks reddened as Alex stiffened. Will kept his gaze fixed and none too warm.

“I wouldn’t call it a breakthrough, exactly. Just a thought. But why—what do you need to talk to me about?”

Alex narrowed his gaze at Will, then back at me.

Vlad groaned. “The weight of the world hangs in the balance here, guys. How about you do your pissing contest if we survive Armageddon, okay?”

“It’s the guy from the video. And the girl. The people from the fires.”

“I don’t remember there being a girl, but okay.”

“They have absolutely no recollection of what happened. None. They don’t know Latin, don’t know anything about the fires.”

“Pretty sure the guy that burned himself knew about the fires,” Will put in.

Alex shot him a withering stare. “He had no idea why he was burned.”

“Great,” Nina said, “so yet another total non sequitur.”

“It’s a trick,” I said simply.

“A trick?”

“He needs us to believe that he is recruiting an army. The Grigori, sure, but humanity? And Oliver? He’s playing a game.”

“Trickster god,” Alex said with a slow nod.

“All of this is a ruse. It’s just fun for him or something.”

“So he doesn’t want to take over the world?” Nina wanted to know.

“No. All of these things have one thing in common,” Vlad said, looking pleased with himself. “Sophie.”

“So he’s throwing all this shit at her to . . .” Will let his words trail off.

“To exhaust her. To weaken her. To realize that if she joins forces with him, she can stop it. She can stop everything and, essentially, save the world.”

Nina sprang from her chair. “Sophie, you’re like the golden ticket!”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “That’s just . . . excellent.”

“No offense, but being around this many breathers for this length of time is really getting to me.” Vlad snapped his laptop shut, fished a couple of blood bags out of the fridge, and disappeared out the front door. Nina looked mournfully at the remains of her ruined brownies and plopped herself on the couch and clicked on the Food Network. That left just Alex, Will, and me, and the way Alex and Will were staring each other down, I wasn’t sure that they even knew I was there. Both were doing that manly puffed-out chest thing, nearly circling each other like dogs.

“I think I’ll just hang around here a bit and make sure you’re all right, Lawson,” Alex said.

“That’s all right, mate. I’m just across the hall. Easier for me to just hang around here, make sure everything is okay.”

Alex’s smile was thin and forced. “Not a problem. I’m a cop. It’s my job. Serve and protect and all.”

“Funny thing is, it’s my job, too. Guardian, and all.”

Alex flashed the smallest bit of his leather holster. “I think I’m better prepared.”

Will shrugged. “You know as well as I do that that thing isn’t going to do a thing to stop what we’re dealing with.”

I waved my hand and inched my way into the male catfight. “Guys? I’m okay. I’m fine here.”

“Sophie, let us handle this.”

“What?”

“Will and I can deal with this. You’re going to be just fine, Lawson.”

I gaped, fury boiling over. “I
am
just fine. I’m safe here in my apartment, probably a lot safer here with Nina than I would be if both of you stayed here beating your chests and glowering at each other.”

That snapped both the guys to attention, and they stared down at me as if surprised that I was there. I put one hand on each of their backs and shoved them toward the door. “The world can crash down outside. I’ve got fanged protection over here.”

Nina waved from the couch, and the guys stepped into the hallway, looking back at me plaintively.

“Are you sure?” Will asked.

“It’s no trouble.”

“Probably for your own good, love.”

“Out!” I slammed the door with a groan, then flopped down on the couch next to Nina.

“Can you believe those two?”

“Yes.” She paused. “You know, you’re really going to need to make a choice soon. You know, if the world doesn’t end and all.”

I raised my eyebrows. “What are you talking about?”

“Look, Soph, you can’t keep doing this back-and-forth thing. First Alex, then Will, then Alex, Will, Alex—”

I held up a hand. “I get it, Neens.”

“Seriously. This whole thing is starting to get a little old. And if it’s old for me—someone who has an exciting life and plenty of other things to do—can you imagine what it must be like for them?”

I shot her a glare before clamping a hand over my forehead. “We’re seriously talking about this now?”

Nina gave me a hard look, and I flopped forward. “It’s hard, Nina. I don’t know what to do.”

“Just choose one!”

“I’m worried about—”

“Looking a little slutty?” Nina patted my hair. “Stop worrying. You passed Slutville and careened into Skank City a long time ago.”

“I’m worried about hurting one of them.”

Nina wrinkled her nose. “Who?”

“I don’t know! Isn’t it possible to be in love with two people at once? Because I am. I love Alex, Neens, I really do. I could see myself with him. He just gets me, you know?”

Her eyebrows went up. “I don’t think anyone actually gets you, Soph.”

“But Will . . . I feel so safe with him, so protected. And he makes me laugh. But Alex has always been so loyal. . . .”

“So Will is doing his job and Alex is a golden retriever. And need I remind you that your future with Alex is finite? He’s a fallen angel. He’s immortal. And he’s going to stay pretty while you droop and age and are no longer able to control your bodily functions.”

“Thanks for the reminder, friend.”

“But”—Nina put out her hands like scales—“on the Will front, he’ll probably get old and decrepit, too. He’s mortal, right? Through and through? Or does he get special powers because of his Guardianship? You should find that out. Because if you’re choosing between two immortals, well, frankly sweetie, you should hop on OkCupid right now. The whole die, never-going-to-die thing can be a real deal-breaker.”

I blew out a sigh. “With all that being said, what would you do? I mean, I really do—I love them both, Neens.” I bit my bottom lip, feeling the lump forming in my throat. I knew it was only a matter of time, and in theory, two amazingly hot, just-this-side-of-dirty men fighting over me was like winning the slut lottery. But in actuality, it hurt my heart and made me wholly dependent on Tums and climbing out bathroom windows when things got too deep.

Nina pursed her lips together, considering. “Well, I suppose if it was me . . . I’d move to Northern Nigeria.”

I cocked an eyebrow. “What? So you can hide out in a mud hut for the rest of your life? Way to go with the solution, Neens.”

She spat out an annoyed puff of air. “No, because Northern Nigeria still practices polyandry. I’d marry them both.”

I rolled my eyes and the doorbell rang.

“Told you you’ll have to make a choice. There they are now.” She swept by me while I trembled, as terrified about showing down the two men I loved as I was about the end of our doomed world.

But Nina flew back into the living room, an enormous, Miss America-style bouquet in her arms, her cheeks a heady pink. It would have been a lovely scene if I weren’t totally aware that the rush of blood in her cheeks belonged to someone else.

I gestured toward the flowers with my chin. “Who sent those?”

The bouquet was huge and Nina’s upper body was practically swallowed in the assortment of fist-sized lavender roses, baby’s breath, and various frilly green things. A silk bow was tied around the trunk of stems, the white and lavender ribbon trailing halfway to Nina’s knees.

“I’m not sure. They’re gorgeous, though, aren’t they?” She pressed an impeccably manicured index finger against her full lips. “I bet they’re from Austin.”

I scrunched up my face. “Austin? The werevamp? I thought you guys had a falling-out.”

Nina’s flesh seemed to ripple as her lips curled up into a snarl. “He gave me fleas.” She glanced down at the bouquet. “This is the least he can do for something like that.”

Before I had the time to consider that I was sharing seven hundred square feet of living space with a flea-ridden vampire, Nina whipped out a card, eyes gleaming.

Then her face promptly fell.

I sat up, feeling a nervous flutter in my stomach. “Neens, what is it? Who are they from?”

Nina looked up at me, truly dumbfounded. “They’re for you.”

“For me?” My mind immediately raced in a thousand different directions. They were from Will! They were from Alex! I had won the Miss America Pageant by a slew of write-in votes (that happened, right?).

Nina shoved the tiny card back in its envelope and unceremoniously dumped the flowers into my lap. I cocked an eyebrow. “What happened to you working on being more gracious?”

Her eyes raked over me and the bouquet before she flopped into the chair-and-a-half. “I brought them over to you, didn’t I?”

I grinned, savoring one of the few moments in my life when I could trump Nina. I made a show of finding the card and whipping it out myself. My name was typed on the front and I waved it at Nina.

“So this, my actual
name,
typed on the front, didn’t clue you in on the fact that these might not be for you?”

“No offense, Soph, but when it comes to flowers coming to the house, what is your first thought?”

I blew out a resigned sigh. “Who sent Nina flowers now?’”

Nina batted her eyelashes and pulled an
InStyle
magazine into her lap. “It’s not that I’m shallow or self-centered; it’s that I was following historical precedent.”

“No,” I said, yanking the tiny card from the ecru envelope. “No one would ever consider you shallow or self-centered.”

She glowered at me and snapped a page of her magazine, but there was a hint of a smile on her lips.

Then I stopped cold.

I could feel my eyes widen, could feel the heat prick out all over my skin. Somewhere, I heard Nina calling my name, but it was as if I had vaulted backward, a hundred miles away. The image of Nina’s wide, concerned eyes and the apartment were a tiny pinprick of light in front of me. There was cotton in my ears and a thousand-pound weight pressing against my chest.

It wasn’t until Nina’s icy-cold hands were on me that I sucked in a deep, choking breath.

“Breathe, Soph, breathe!”

Nina was kneeling in front of me and my lungs were aching from lack of air.

“What—who are they from?”

I didn’t know it—didn’t feel it—because my limbs were stiff and numb, but somehow I had dropped the flowers. They were scattered in a weird arc, the lavender-purple petals glowing against our grain-colored carpet while the stick-straight stems scattered like desperately pointing fingers, each one pockmarked by stiff thorns. Nina picked around them until she found the card. I looked on incredulously as a drop of velvet blood fell from the sky, staining the perfect ecru.

Nina looked up at me. “You’re bleeding.”

“What?”

“You. Are. Bleeding.”

I stared blankly at my hands, unseeing, until Nina wrapped her hands around my index finger, cocooning the slit in my skin, catching the next drop of blood before it fell.

“You must have caught a thorn.”

“Right.” I pulled my hand away. “I should get a Band-Aid.”

I watched Nina stare at the little smear of vibrantly colored blood that dribbled and formed a tiny puddle in the palm of her hand. She was mesmerized and I could see her every muscle tighten, could see her making every effort to avoid the primitive need that raced through her head. A terror simmered behind her deep onyx eyes. I tore my eyes from her and stared at the card lying amongst the fallen roses.

Everything inside of me screamed to pick up the card, to reread it, to smell it, to taste it, to see if I could glean anything of my father from it, and yet any motion toward it was terrifyingly paralyzing.

Nina and I were statue still in our living room, wrestling our greatest fears-slash-desires for moments that felt like hours.

Finally, I broke the silence. “Read the card,” I whispered.

The spell was broken. “What?”

I yanked a Kleenex and wiped the blood from Nina’s palm, then cleared my throat. “The flowers.”

Once the stain was gone from her palm, Nina’s whole body seemed to relax. She plucked the card.

“
My dearest Sophie,
” Nina read, “
I’ve waited so long and now it’s time.
” She looked up at me, her eyes wide and soft, and I struggled to suck in a decent breath. “
Always, Dad
.”

Now Nina dropped the card as though the very thing were made of skin-searing acid. “Dad?”

I nodded solemnly. “My dad.”

I thought how, just this afternoon, I had been thinking about my father, ready to track him down. And here he was. Telling me “it’s time.”

I could see Nina hitch her chin, the flitter of fear that crossed her face. “It’s really happening.”

Now my heartbeat was speeding up and I was breathing in tiny, short bursts, thinking of everything that had happened in the last couple of days. Finally, my mind settled on one image. “Alex—Alex—the case. The homeless guy.”

Nina’s eyebrows went up. “The guy who was burned up? What does he have to do with anything?”

I hadn’t bothered to tell Nina everything about the business card because, as I’d told Alex, it was no big deal. I worked at the Underworld Detection Agency and I had business cards with my name on it for just these kinds of circumstances. Well, circumstances that involved vampires looking for the Agency more than vampires being burned alive, but still. But suddenly I was beginning to think that the business card might have been a bigger deal that I cared to admit.

“The guy—the homeless vampire who got—”

Nina’s eyes flashed with fear, and I stopped, cleared my throat instead.

“He had my business card.”

She nodded. “Yeah, I know. You said that. Your whole ‘not freaking out’ thing, remember?”

“I think it’s time I started freaking out.”

Nina’s pale face went even paler. “Do you think the vampire—what was his name?”

“Armentrout,” I intoned. “Lance Armentrout.”

“Do you think Lance Armentrout was looking for you to warn you?”

My heart did a wild spasm of double thumps. “Or he was working for my father.”

We sat in tense silence for what seemed like hours. Finally: “Neens?”

“Yeah, Soph?”

“As a vampire, do you have any . . . like . . . connections ?”

“Connections? Me?” She splayed a pale hand against her chest. “Of course I have connections. Tons of them. What do you need? A new wardrobe? A panini? A decent dye job?”

I glanced at a lock of my fire-engine-red hair and frowned. “All of those things might be nice, but that’s not what I was talking about.” I rubbed my palms against my thighs and cleared my throat. “What I meant was, do you have any connections to—you know . . .” I cut my eyes to the carpet.

“To a carpet cleaner?”

I shook my head and gestured a little more vividly.

“Linoleum? A vacuum cleaner? Soph, I really don’t have any idea what you’re trying to—”

“To Hell, Neens, HELL! Do you have any connections to Hell or anyone, I don’t know, Hell-adjacent?”

Nina narrowed her eyes. “Because I’m a soulless vampire?”

“I don’t mean to be offensive, but—”

“We have lived together for seven years, Sophie. Don’t you think you would have caught on by now if I had some kind of frequent Hell calling card? Don’t you think I would have told you if I ran into your father at the yearly Bastions of Hell family picnic?”

I had to smile despite the fact that I had hurt my best friend and was now being read the riot act for it. “There’s a family picnic?”