Chapter 9

Levi bent over to speak to the driver through the open passenger window. A moment later the vehicle pulled away with great haste, its taillights a red blur fading into the night.

I curled my nails into my palms, the cold from the concrete seeping into my feet.

Before I could call Lyft, Levi strode back to me and pointed at the limo.

"I don't get in cars with strange men," I said through chattering teeth, moving away as quickly as possible. So, slightly faster than a tortoise.

"You've known me for years." Both he and the damn limo glided alongside me.

"Strange. Not strangers." I briskly rubbed my arms, having forgotten my coat in my sprint out of the gala. "You've got blood all over your shirt. You could be a serial killer."

Except now he didn't. Right. Illusion magic.

He skewered me with a supremely unamused look. "I want answers."

"Forty-two, Miss Scarlet in the pool room with the wrench, and General George Washington."

"About the fact you're a Rogue."

"Don't forget that I'm also 'on the lam.'" I dropped into a terrible southern redneck accent. "I'm headin' for the county line."

A muscle ticked in his jaw.

I patted his cheek. "Careful, Leviticus." I used my old nickname for him that he despised. "You might break something."

"Get in the damn limo." His voice and his expression were both carved from granite and infused with all of the power as Head of House Pacifica. It may have been one of the smaller Houses globally, but it wasn't one of the weakest. Not under Levi.

Intellectually, I'd known he was the big boss, but I'd never been in his presence when he wore it like a mantle of absolute authority. His power rolled off him, sucking all the oxygen out of the night.

My lungs shrunk to the size of peanuts and I struggled to drag in a breath. This wasn't my childhood nemesis who'd graduated from making Frankenstein jokes about my leg to firing the first strike during finals of our university psych class by switching out my double espressos for decaf.

This was a man I didn't want to cross because I'd lose. Badly.

"Fine." I pivoted to get in the limo, but Levi caught my shoulder, draping his Armani jacket over me. It was warm from his body and smelled like him. Remarkably, it was blood-free. I wrapped it more firmly around myself. "Compassion?"

"Hardly," he scoffed. "Can't have you dying before I torture you."

I settled myself on the leather seat that contoured perfectly to my ass, still shivering despite the jacket and grateful for the blast of heat in the car. Dumping my heels on the floor, I wiggled my toes, sighing in delight.

The limo was such a smooth ride that if I hadn't been watching the passing shadows of trees glide over the tinted glass, I wouldn't have known we were moving.

Levi opened one of the side wood panels and removed a bottle of Jack Daniel's Limited Edition Number 27 Gold and two tumblers. He poured a splash of liquid in both and handed one to me. "Sip."

Even one tiny taste spread through me like molten honey.

He considered me over the rim of his glass. "Were you banking on me showing you mercy when you got caught?"

"Heaven forbid." I took another sip of perfection, savoring it. I'd never been able to afford this premium whiskey. "How long have you known me? About fifteen years? Five of them spent together every summer at camp. You really think I'm so talented I was able to deliberately hide magic all this time? And why, huh? What possible motivation could I have?"

"Your mother."

Shit. If my magic cost her her position? Even I wasn't sure how far Talia's motherly love extended. "Yeah, that would have been a good one."

He rolled the glass between his long, elegant fingers, the Tennessee whiskey gently swirling. "But you're right, you're not that talented. At the same time, if you haven't had magic all these years, then explain to me how you're the exception to the fact that all Nefesh are born with magic and how you possess blood magic when that doesn't exist?"

Blood magic? Fuuuuuck. I tossed back the rest of the drink.

"I'm a special unicorn?" I held out my glass for a refill but Levi swept it away.

"I take my position as House Head very seriously. And that means enforcing laws that will keep my people safe. I've got no tolerance for Rogues." He set both our glasses down on a tiny pull-out table with a preternatural gentleness that unnerved me, an overcompensation for the dangerous glint in his eyes.

I swallowed. Levi's anger was a cold storm front buffeting me. And some of that probably stemmed from a sense of personal betrayal but I hoped he had some mercy for Rogues, both for myself and Charlotte Rose.

"You've got two chances," he said. "Slim and none. Convince me that you haven't been Rogue all these years or I'll prosecute you to the fullest extent of the law."

The Girl Who Lived. That's what Dr. Zhang had called me when I'd come out of surgery, my bloodied Harry Potter T-shirt cut off my body and later burned. At first the moniker had been a cute nod to the book, but somewhere in my later teens it had hardened into an iron-willed determination to follow my own path. Live on my terms.

And I had, but too much of living had been about surviving. Yet in this moment, despite how surreal this was and all of Levi's threats, I felt more alive than ever. After spending years on bottom-rung cases, I now faced the biggest mystery of my career: myself. A thrill fizzed through my veins and damn if I didn't want to say "challenge accepted" in the boldest way possible, like waving a flag at a bull.

I brushed some dirt off the hem of my dress. "I'll make you a deal."

"This isn't a negotiation," he said.

"You think anyone is going to believe that you knew me all these years and didn't know about my magic? 'Why did you keep her off the books, Mr. Montefiore? Was she running black ops for you? Or were you simply making exceptions for a friend?'"

"Your point?"

"Tonight was as much a shock to me as to you. I want the chance to unravel this mystery." I twisted around on the seat and pulled up my hair.

His breath warmed my neck. "I don't give a damn that you've found religion."

"I didn't. Someone inked that on me and I only found out earlier today. Hours before I discovered that I had magic." I let my hair tumble back down. "I don't know why or how it never manifested before, but I want to find out. This may be a point of law for you, Levi, but it's my life. I'm a damn good private investigator. Let me put the pieces of this puzzle together, because what if I wasn't the only person this was done to? That would have huge repercussions for your House."

House Pacifica headquarters came into view. Located smack dab in the center of downtown on some of Vancouver's priciest real estate, the long seven-story building was shaped like an "S" laying on its side. The glass managed to catch and reflect light in such a way that it was never the same color from morning to night. In dark clouds it took on a deep silver color, while a summer sunset would turn it a brilliant orange-pink. Right now it was obsidian black, immutable and enigmatic.

The limo turned into a driveway. A parking gate built seamlessly into HQ slid open and the car descended into the depths below the building.

"Do we have a deal?" I said.

"No. I don't take kindly to blackmail. Or half-baked lies. Tell whatever story you like."

The next hour was a blur. I was booked on suspicion of being a Rogue and tossed in a holding cell. My protests fell on deaf ears - as did my demands for a phone call. They'd taken away my small handbag with my wallet and iPhone. Also my shoes. As if self-harm via a chunky wedge heel was a serious risk.

The only things I'd been given were a Gatorade and a bag of cashews because, apparently, I'd looked dangerously pale. Well, no shit. Birth a freaking knife out of your blood and see how lightheaded you felt.

I sat on the bolted-down bench, poking at the scab on my palm where I'd cut myself on the railing earlier. I couldn't even blame Levi for not believing me. Magic always adhered to a specific set of rules. "One of these things is not like the others" did not apply.

Yet I refused to rot in here; I was the only one with the motivation and ability to clear my name. Do your worst, Montefiore; you weren't taking me down.