My hope that Orion might eventually be able to heal from this disintegrates as soon as we open the door to our room. He storms past Aiden like an avenging angel, straight into the bathroom, where I hear him scream before I can even ask what the hell he thinks he’s doing. There are no coherent words in his outburst. Just pure animal rage. The sound of fists hitting flesh is clear as day. He’s beating the shit out of the man in the bathtub. I turn to Aiden with a questioning look.

  He shrugs. “He’s dead. We got what we needed, so I finished the job.”

  “Good.” I sigh and follow Orion into the bathroom. The hole in the corpse’s chest tells me Aiden used his spear for the killing blow. He keeps it folded away like my scythe. His weapon, supposed to have been wielded by Archangel Raphael, is called Sweet Fall. It suits him. I’m glad he’s taken to it so well.

  The way Orion’s beating the corpse in the tub, I can’t tell whether he knows the object of his rage is already dead. He sounds so young, sucking in raspy breaths between sobs, his face glistening and red. I pull him off the body and let him fight me for a while. When he finally quiets, I say, “He’s already dead, and he’s only a foot soldier. Save your energy for Whiteface.” I help him to his bed and turn to Aiden. “Stay with him, will you? And call the cleaners.”

  Aiden nods once and lies down beside Orion. To anyone who doesn’t know him, Aiden’s inability to guess appropriate human behavior is unnerving. But he’s always been this way. He treats complete strangers as though he’s known them all his life, and he treats his surrogate family like complete strangers at times. He tailors his behavior to the situation. It doesn’t matter who’s involved. So, I’m only a little surprised to see him curl up beside Orion and cradle him like the big spoon in a long-standing relationship.

  Confident my traumatized brother is in good hands, I change out of my bloody pants and head down to the hotel bar for a drink. It’s a warm place with plush armchairs at every table and tons of artwork on the walls. It looks like the owner just didn’t know when to stop decorating, but there’s something refreshing about the clutter.

  Sarah waits at one of the tables and gestures for me to sit. “Knew you’d be down here sooner or later,” she says.

  “I suppose you’re here to lecture me about drinking too much.”

  “Au contraire,” she says, just as a bartender arrives with a bottle of scotch and two glasses. “I’ve already ordered.”

  “You’re a goddamned angel, you know that?” I swallow my entire glass before the bartender can walk away with the bottle. “One more. Make it a triple,” I say. He sighs but pours without comment.

  Sarah only ever drinks with me for show. She’ll pour a glass and sip at it for hours while I down entire bottles. I might be insulted if she didn’t tuck her bobbed hair behind one ear and rest her chin on her interlaced fingers the way she’s doing right now. She looks concerned, and she probably should be. Between the wine from dinner and this, I am not in my right mind. But in my right mind is the last place I want to be.

  “You’re fucking beautiful,” I mutter, wincing at my own slurred words. At this rate, I’m going to say something I regret. “Whatever, I don’t care. Why should I care? You’re fucking beautiful, and I’m a fucking drunk, and you should never, ever go out with me. Even if I beg, don’t you dare. I ruin every person I touch.” She reaches across the table, but I snatch my hand away. “I’m not kidding. This is what I always do. I’m a disease, Sarah. Don’t catch me. Stay the fuck away.”

  “You’re not a disease,” she says. “Don’t be ridiculous. And don’t tell me who I’m allowed to go out with. You’re not the boss of me.”

  I know she’s trying to cheer me up, but I won’t be cheered. “You should’ve seen his family tonight. They were like… They were like…” I throw my hands up when I can’t think of the right words. “I swear to god, that sort of thing only exists on TV, and all of a sudden, I’m part of it? I have no idea how to exist in a situation like that. This, I know.” I gesture back and forth between us. “You and Aiden. Cain, for fuck’s sake. I know how to be in this dysfunctional freak show. As long as I don’t get too close, I can’t possibly ruin you. You’re already fucked up.”

  “Gee, thanks for the compliment,” she says.

  “I mean it. Cain’s a heartless bastard. Aiden’s a badly programmed robot. You can’t even touch another person without a panic attack.” She bows her head, and I suddenly feel like even more of a monster. “Sorry… But it’s true, isn’t it? And I’m worse than all of you put together. I didn’t…” I choke and swallow a mouthful of rage and fear. “I didn’t even remember to tip the waitress.” Tears gather in my eyes, and my throat closes up.

  “I’m sure Mrs. Bachman took care of it. You don’t have to overtip everywhere you go.”

  “Yes, I do!” I snap. “I do because… because it’s the only good thing about me. If I forget to tip the damn waitress, then who the fuck am I outside a killing machine?” I wipe my eyes with my sleeves, feeling like I’ve swallowed hot coals.

  “Let’s go outside.” Sarah stands and takes my arm. “You need some air. Give me your wallet.” I obey without question, and she takes out a few hundred euros and leaves them on the table. She will never know how grateful I am for little moments like these—little gestures that show she gets it. She’s the only one who gets it.

  Outside, I lose the rest of my composure. I sit at the edge of the sidewalk and sob. Across the Seine, Notre Dame glows in its spotlights. The poor thing still has to perform for tourists, even though it’s broken and burned. It never gets a moment of peace.

  Sarah sits beside me and stares at the cathedral. “I don’t think you’re really upset about not tipping the waitress,” she says. “If you are, you can go back tomorrow and leave something for her. I think you’re really upset because you got a taste of life outside the House, and you liked it. Maybe you hoped you could have something like that one day, and then reality came and twisted that hope into something ugly.” She sighs, and I know she isn’t talking about just me anymore. “Like it always does. People like us—you, me, and Aiden—we’ll never get to have what people like your brother have. But I think… maybe that’s okay. Because if we did, we wouldn’t be us. And I like us. I think we’re good people too.”

  “I feel like I killed that kid myself,” I say, my eyes still fixed on the cathedral.

  “But you didn’t.” She scoots closer to me. Her knee rests against mine, and I swear to god I’d die happy right now despite having made a complete fool of myself. “Don’t torture yourself for other people’s sins, Eden. And don’t hate yourself for wanting something more. We all do. Even Orion wasn’t satisfied with what he had. If he was, he would never have joined the House of David.”

  8: to learn that,

  Orion

  The nightmares have already begun. In the darkness of that abandoned church, Remy lies on his back in a sea of blood. His eyes snap open, and he utters my name, but I’m no longer with him. I left him there to die. I left him alone in that terrifying place. I left him, and that’s the reason he’ll never go home again.

  I sit up with a jolt and swallow a scream. It takes me a minute to realize where I am, that I was only dreaming, and that Remy is not still alive in that hellish place. He’s dead, and somehow, it’s better that he’s dead. At least he isn’t alone and afraid. In all my life, I never imagined I would feel the way I do right now. Death is never better than life, is it?

  In the bed next to mine, Eden is passed out cold. He breathes in an erratic pattern, and I know he’s drunk again. For the first time, I think I get why he poisons himself the way he does. It must be nice to drown the nightmares before they come, to pass out instead of sleep. My chances of getting back to sleep tonight are zero, despite how exhausted I am, so I get up and creep past him to the door.

  As soon as I push the door open, I’m met with a familiar face. Phoebe sits across the hall, playing games on her phone like she’s been there for hours. I close the door and stare down at her. “Why aren’t you on the plane?”

  She pushes herself to her feet and pockets her phone. “I never got to give you your birthday present.”

  My pulse races as I consider her situation. “You’re supposed to be on the plane, Phoebs. You said you’d be on the plane. Why are you still here?”

  She cocks her head. “Your people told me what happened, and I didn’t want to leave.”

  “They aren’t my people. And what happened is exactly why you should be gone.”

  “Shh.” She presses a finger to her lips. “Come with me. We’ll talk about it in my room.”

  My eyes widen. “You got a room?”

  “Yes, doofus. Where’d you think I was gonna stay?” She reaches out her hand. “Come on. Don’t worry. I dropped the others off at the airport myself. They’re in the air right now.”

  A rush of relief courses through me, and my muscles relax a little. Phoebe takes my hand when I fail to take hers. Once we’re in her room, she closes the door and leans back against it as though it could somehow protect us both from everything terrible in the world. For now, we’re here and safe. I won’t leave her alone tonight. Tomorrow, I’ll escort her all the way to her departure gate and watch her get on the plane. I will not rest until I see with my own eyes that she’s in the air and on her way home.

  When she looks up at me, her eyes are rimmed with tears, and I almost break down at the sight of them. “I can’t believe he’s gone,” she whispers.

  “Me neither.”

  “I’m so sorry. This is all my fault.”

  “What?” I can’t believe what I’m hearing.

  “I’m the one who told them you were here, and I’m the one who suggested we all come to surprise you.” She drops her chin to her chest. “That’s what that guy Aiden told me. He said I should never follow you on missions like this. He said it was way too dangerous. I think that’s why he told me what really happened, so I’d know better next time. He doesn’t have to worry about that. I’m never, ever going to be this stupid again.” Her voice trembles before she can gather her composure. “I had no idea how dangerous your job was. I thought it was just some kind of high-tech, super-expensive scavenger hunt or something—I don’t know.”

  It takes every ounce of strength I have left to push my feelings down, take her face in my hands, and look into her eyes. “Listen. None of this was your fault. Okay? None of it. You had no idea.”

  She reaches up and touches my cheek for a split second, but the ghost of her fingertips lingers. “O,” she whispers, “you still have blood in your hair.”

  Bile rises at the back of my throat as I’m reminded why I’m here. I wish I would either never forget or never be reminded again. It’s the reminders that hurt the most, those moments when you realize you’ve forgotten. Even after his death, I’d sometimes hear Dad call me from the next room. I wonder what Remy’s ghost will look and sound like. Where will I see him out of the corner of my eye? When will I hear his voice? My eyes start to sting, and Phoebe notices.

  “Sit down,” she says, pulling me to her bed. “I’m going to draw you a bath.”

  I lose time listening to the water run. Then, suddenly, Phoebe is standing before me again. “Come on, let’s get you undressed.”

  I snap back to the present. “No, I can do it.” With some effort, I stand and walk to the bathroom. My knees are still sore from hitting the ground when I slipped in Remy’s blood. They’ll probably be black and blue tomorrow. Phoebe looks hurt, so I do my best to mitigate. “I mean thank you, but I don’t want you to have to take care of me.”

  Once I’m alone, I undress and slip into the tub. Phoebe used her own bath bar, so the whole bathroom smells like peppermint. The water is the perfect temperature, and as I sink into it, I can feel the world start to slip away. I wonder what would happen if I just fell asleep here. Maybe I could drown. Maybe some horror-movie monster could pull me under and never let me go. I’d be okay with that, honestly. But soon, the door behind me clicks open, and I know I’m not alone anymore.

  Now I’m grateful my bath has bubbles. I sit up and turn to see her staring down at me. “What are you doing?” I ask.

  “Just helping, O.” She shakes her head and smiles. “Lie back, okay? I’m going to wash your hair, no strings attached. Just pretend I’m your super-hot nurse and you’re too old to bother seducing me.”

  I chuckle at that. No matter what, Phoebe will always be inappropriate. It’s comforting that some things haven’t changed, and I’m grateful for every molecule of comfort I can get right now. So I sit back and try to relax as she pours warm water over my head. Her nails gently scratch my scalp as she massages shampoo into my hair, and I close my eyes to savor the sensation.

  When she finishes rinsing my hair, she circles around to sit at the edge of the tub. “Better?”

  I don’t want to ruin the moment by speaking, so I only nod.

  Then she reaches down and starts scooping warm water over the tops of my shoulders. “Take it easy,” she murmurs. “It’s your birthday weekend.”

  “I don’t think I can. I’d give anything to be unconscious right now, but my brain won’t shut up.”

  “That’s typical for you, though, isn’t it?”

  “This isn’t my usual insomnia. I used to say I was exhausted when I was tired. I had no idea what exhaustion was. It’s like pain. This is worse than how I felt after Dad died. Because then, I at least knew there was nothing I could have done differently. No matter how hard I try, I can’t convince myself that’s true this time. There are so many things I—”

  “Nope.” She puts a hand over my mouth. “See, this is why you should’ve let me take the blame. I can handle it. All I ever do is fuck things up. If you did anything wrong, it was trusting me to be anything other than a complete fuckup.”

  I pull her hand from my mouth. “Phoebe—”

  “I’m not letting you take this away from me, O.” She leans over the tub, gets about an inch from my face, and whispers, “I did this, not you.”

  On a whim, I grab and hug her. All I want to do is feel her arms around me, but she slips. With a splash, she’s in the tub with me. She scrambles and smacks me but doesn’t get out. “Pretty decent revenge game you’ve got going on,” she says. “Well, I guess you can learn to share the bath then.” And she turns around to lie back against me.

  I love the weight of her, but when I look over her shoulder, I can’t help noticing she’s wearing a sopping white shirt. And I can’t help noticing she doesn’t have anything on underneath it. “Phoebs,” I murmur into her ear as though we have an audience and I’m trying to spare her the embarrassment. “You want a towel or something to cover up with?”

  She glances down at her chest and doesn’t seem the least bit bothered. “I don’t need a towel,” she says. “I’ve got a pair of perfectly good hands right here.” I expect her to put her own hands over her breasts, but I should know better. It’s my hands she’s talking about, and she puts them in place like it’s the most ordinary thing she’s ever done. Under my palms, her nipples harden, and I freeze like a rabbit in a predator’s sight.

  This doesn’t feel real. It’s like a fantasy I’m having, a dream perhaps, after which I’ll have to talk myself down by reminding myself she could never really be mine. I struggle to think of anything other than how soft she is in my hands, how much I want her right now, and how there’s no way I can hide it because I’m pressed against the small of her back and my desire is growing more obvious by the second.

  “Okay.” I clear my throat and start to sit up. “Maybe we should just—”

  “It’s fine, O.” Phoebe wriggles against me, sending a shiver of pleasure all the way up my spine. “Just enjoy this. I know you can’t help it. I’m way too sexy to resist, right? Tell me I’m way too sexy to resist.”

  I chuckle under my breath. “You are, but… I thought I wasn’t—”

  “Aged enough? You’ve matured a lot since you started your new job. I told you I had a birthday present for you, didn’t I? I stayed behind to give it to you.” She reaches under the water into her pocket and pulls out a condom. “One bullet in the chamber,” she says with a laugh. “I thought we could try out a deeper relationship for a change—that is, if you’re up for it. I mean, I can tell you’re up for it… literally. Come on, we both need a distraction right now. I don’t want to think anymore tonight, do you?”

  I’d be an idiot to argue, so I don’t. She steps out of the tub and peels off her wet clothes. When she finally stands naked before me, she reaches out to help me from the bath. She leads me to the bed and sits me down. Her shapely body is even more beautiful than I imagined, and I have imagined it… so many times. God, I’m such an idiot. “You don’t have to do this for me.”

  “I’m not doing it for you.” She straddles my lap and guides me back until we’re both fully on the mattress. “I’m too selfish. I’d never give a gift that didn’t benefit me somehow. Now kiss me before I start to think you don’t like me.”

  It’s my pleasure to obey her. Her lips are warmer than I expect. She pushes me down into the pillows and kisses my throat and chest, her full breasts pressing into my torso every time her lips make contact. She stealthily unwraps the condom, works her way down my body, and gently puts it on with her mouth. The sensation pulls every other thought from my head. When she rises up again, I am only here and now. The past and the future don’t exist anymore. Nothing exists beyond her mouth on my mouth, her body against my body, her legs pinching my hips as she rocks into me.