Morning Star (Sins of the Father 3)

Beatrice beamed triumphantly. “I’m a genius. Say it.”

I gaped for a moment, then got my thoughts together. “I mean, I’ll say that the Fuck-Tons are more talented than I thought.”

“Say it, nephilim. Tell me I’m a genius.”

“Fine,” I said, sighing. “You’re a genius. You’d think that sinking ten grand down your pockets was reward enough.”

Beatrice flipped her hair over her shoulder, laughing heartily. “You clearly don’t know me well enough. I want the whole world, or nothing at all.”

17

Time to head home, we decided. The Black Market was just as dark by night as it was by day, with no real way to tell the two apart unless you had a wat

ch on you.

Despite the darkness, I always thought that I was pretty good at keeping aware of my surroundings. It kind of comes with the territory when supernatural entities are constantly trying to crawl up your butt for the most random reasons.

That was precisely why I struggled so furiously when a pair of slender yet unreasonably powerful arms wrapped themselves around my chest, like their owner was trying to put me in some kind of lock.

I yelped, instinct taking over as I kicked at the air, and when that didn’t work, slammed my elbow into my assailant’s stomach. The arms let me go as my attacker doubled over, wheezing, the air smelling of cigarettes as his breath came out in labored puffs. My hands flew to my mouth, and my apologies came in stuttered gasps.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry. Dude, Sterling, are you okay?”

Sterling, our good old vampire friend from the Boneyard, waved his hand at me as he clenched his forearm against his stomach, his hand pressed across his chest. “That’s Uncle Sterling to you. And I’m – I’m good.” That last part was added at the tail end of a wheeze.

Florian tutted. “You shouldn’t sneak up on people like that, especially not Mason. He’s had a day.”

Sterling frowned as he greeted Florian. “Nice to see you too, tree man.”

“Florian.”

“I knew that.”

“Wait.” I frowned as Sterling composed himself. “How did you know to find me? Don’t tell me you’re still using that scrying ring you stole off of Carver?” What the hell was the point of getting an enchanted bracer, then?

“No, no, vamp’s honor.” Sterling held up three fingers in a salute. “Carver got super pissed about me nicking his ring. He’s changed all the locks, but don’t you worry. I’ll figure them out. I just spotted you out here and thought I’d say ‘Hi.’ I wasn’t expecting to get smashed in the stomach, that’s for sure.”

I scratched my forearm sheepishly. “Sorry about that.”

Sterling scoffed. “It’s nothing. But you’ve got other stuff to be sorry about.” He narrowed his eyes at me. “You still haven’t called Asher, I see.”

It was tough not to show my guilt, but I managed to keep my cringing on the inside. Asher was my closest friend at the Boneyard, a necromancer, one of the rarest types of mages you could be in the arcane underground. Carver was our combination boss, mentor, and father figure, everything in one, a deathless lich who had eagerly adopted each of us and welcomed Asher to his unholy fold.

I rubbed the back of my neck, grimacing. “I promise, I will, okay? One of these days. It’s just not the right time yet. And besides, the news flash here is that you really shouldn’t be sifting through Carver’s stuff. I hear that some of it is booby-trapped.”

Come to think of it, he might have even kept one or two mimics around the Boneyard to protect his valuables. It fit his personality precisely.

“Stealing comes with the territory.” Sterling winked, his eyes practically twinkling in the Black Market’s many-colored lights. “I’m a naughty boy, I am.”

Florian tilted his head, frowning. “Boy? Aren’t you hundreds of years old?”

Sterling leaned his torso forward, frowning back harder. “Aren’t you?”

I pushed my hand between their chests, sliding my shoulder in to separate them bodily. “Whoa there, boys. Play nice. You got along before, what the hell is going on?”

“Just a bit of cheeky banter.” Sterling shrugged. “It’s nothing serious.”

Florian’s shrug mirrored Sterling’s. “We’re just playing, is all.”