Rage and Ruin (The Harbinger 2)

Stomach twisting, I answered with a greeting that sounded like I’d been punched in the stomach at the exact moment I said hello.

“Trinity?” Thierry’s deep voice tugged at my heart hard. “You okay?”

“Yes. Totally.” I cleared my throat. “What’s up?”

“What’s up?” he repeated the words slowly. “I think a lot of things are up right now.”

Closing my eyes, I plopped down on the bed, knowing what he meant. Misha. Jada’s missed calls. My overall mental and emotional well-being. “Yeah, a lot is up right now.”

His sigh was heavy and so familiar that it caused a pang in my chest. I missed him. I missed Matthew and Jada and Ty and—I cut that thought off as Thierry spoke. “I know you’re busy, but I need to talk to you. There’s been a development regarding your future.”

I opened my eyes. “I am half-afraid to ask what that is.”

“It’s a good thing.”

“Really?”

“Really,” he confirmed with a soft laugh. “As you know, serving as a Warden is financially lucrative for those who Ascend training and commit their lives to battling those who seek to harm,” Thierry said, and I knew that. It paid really, really well. Where Wardens got their money, I had no idea, but I liked picturing Alphas doing flybys, randomly dropping off loads of cash. “Until you were summoned by your father, we cared for you and your mother, providing you with whatever financial stability you needed.”

I was starting to feel like I was being cut off, but he’d said this was good news, so I kept my mouth shut.

“That is no longer necessary,” he continued. “I will be sending you a screenshot of the bank account that has been established in your name that will have all the necessary information for you to access the account in a few days, once the transfer clears—”

“Wait. What?”

“You’re being paid for the services you’re rendering,” he explained, and the way he said that made me feel like I needed a shower. “And I think you will be pleased with what you’ll see.”

“I don’t understand. I’ve never had money. Or even a bank account. It’s a shock that I even know how to use a credit card,” I replied. “How do I have money now?”

“You father wants to make sure you’re provided for and that your focus will not be distracted by—how did he say it—‘frivolous human concepts such as money.’”

Okay. That sounded like something my father would say. “Did you see him?”

“Unfortunately.”

An inappropriate giggle swelled in my throat. “When? I haven’t seen him since...”

“I know.” All humor had vanished from his tone. “He was here this morning, in all his glory. He wanted to make sure funds were set up and that, in the meantime, you were covered. He said to tell you to check what you hold most dear, and yes, he was as vague as angelically possible.”

Check what I held most dear? Immediately, my gaze swiveled to the worn Johanna Lindsey paperback that had been Mom’s favorite book. Did it...look thicker than normal?

“You’re still there?” Thierry’s voice snagged my attention.

“Yeah. Yes.” I cleared my throat. “Sorry. This has just caught me off guard.”

“As it did Matthew and I. We weren’t expecting your father to consider things like you needing money to buy food.” I could almost picture him pinching his brow. “Actually, we were planning to wire you some money ourselves, but that won’t be necessary.”

“Thanks,” I murmured, unsure how to respond. At the Community, money wasn’t something I’d had to worry about. I’d been privileged in a lot of ways, and realizing that now, as I stared at the book, made me a little uncomfortable in my own skin.

“Trinity,” Thierry began, and I tensed, recognizing that tone. “I’m not going to ask how you’re doing. I already know, but... I’m sorry. I should have known that Misha wasn’t your—”

“It’s okay.” I swallowed hard. “You all did what you thought you were supposed to, and I...did what I had to. Everything is going to be okay.”

Thierry was silent. Too silent.

I rubbed my fingers over my temple. “How...how is Jada?”

“Upset. Confused.” A pause. “She misses you.”

“I miss her,” I whispered. “I miss all of you.”

“We know. She knows,” he replied. “And she knows you need time to process everything. Just don’t forget that she’s here. That we are all here, and we miss you.”

“I know.”

Thierry didn’t keep me on the phone much longer. I hung up, feeling a little heartsick and a little happy to have heard his voice.

Slowly becoming aware that I wasn’t alone, I placed my phone aside and looked up.

Zayne stood in the doorway. “Everything okay?”

I nodded, smiling a little. “It was Thierry. He was calling to say that my...that my father had come by to make sure I was financially set.”

“That’s good news, then.”

In other words, he was probably wondering why he was picking up on sadness through the bond, but I wasn’t up to offering that information as I leaned over and picked up the book. It felt different, and as I turned it around, I saw that there were gaps between several of the pages.

“I think...my father was here,” I said, glancing at him.

“Seriously?” Zayne leaned against the door frame. “When?”

“Maybe last night?” I hadn’t paid attention to the book then. Giving it a little shake, I wasn’t all that surprised when I saw green paper flutter to the comforter in a never-ending stream of money.

Zayne made a choking sound. “Holy...”

“Hundred-dollar bills,” I said, eyes wide as I stared at the dozens and dozens of them. There was a chance that one had been tucked between every page. I looked up with a smile. “I guess I’m covering dinner tonight.”

* * *

I did buy dinner, but that turned out to be a little embarrassing, because he’d picked Subway and I had to break a hundred-dollar bill on two footlongs.

Not long after I’d gotten off the phone with Thierry, the screenshot he’d promised came through as a text with all the necessary information. I’d never seen so many zeroes after a number before, and I had no idea what my father thought food and shelter cost, but he might have overdone it by a couple hundred thousand or so.

“I. Am. So. Bored,” I whined, hours into roaming the streets.

“Most would consider that a good thing,” Zayne replied.

I glanced at him, able to make out just enough of his profile in the low light as he stared into the city park. His hair was back in that tucked ponytail. He was in his human form, and I imagined those who saw us thought we were a young couple or friends out enjoying the night.

I doubted the fact that we were both dressed in head-to-toe black like old-school cat burglars was all that noteworthy.

Though, Zayne in black leather pants was very noteworthy to me.

For the last hour or so, we’d been scoping out the area where we’d spotted the Upper Level demons the other night. But other than a handful of Fiends, we hadn’t come across any.

“If we were out here keeping the streets clear of demons and the humans safe, then I guess being bored would be a good thing,” I mused. “But we’re looking for the Harbinger, so a dull night seems like a bad thing. We’re no closer to finding him than we were yesterday.”

Zayne stopped under a streetlamp just outside the park entry. “You know what I think?”

“No, but I bet you’re going to tell me.” I went to hop up on the two-or three-foot-high limestone retaining wall that flanked the entryway, but as soon as my booted foot hit the ledge, I realized I’d misjudged the height. I started to topple backward—

Zayne caught me by the hips, steadying me until my feet were planted on the ledge. “I have no idea how you can leap from one roof to another and scale a fire escape, but nearly crack your skull open on a three-foot retaining wall.”

“Skills,” I muttered, turning so that I was facing him. For once, I was the one looking down at him. “Thanks.”

“No problem. I got you.” His hands lingered on my hips, his grip light just above the iron daggers I wore hidden under my shirt. “You good?”

I nodded. “I think so.”

“I want you to be sure.” His tone was light, even teasing, as he looked up at me. “I wouldn’t be a very good Protector if you ended up breaking an arm my first couple of weeks on the job.”

My lips twitched. “Yeah, that would mean you kind of suck, but I think you’re forgetting one important factoid.”

“And what’s that?” The weight of his hands on my hips shifted, somehow becoming...heavier.

“It’s going to take more than a three-foot fall to crack open my skull.”

“I don’t know,” he replied as a group of what sounded like teenagers crossed the street, heading away from us as they shouted at one another. “Stranger things have happened.”

“Not that strange.”

His head tilted. “When I was younger and just learning to fly, I misjudged a landing and fell. Broke my arm. It was only a couple of feet.”

It was rare for Wardens to suffer broken bones from something even a human would likely survive. “How old were you?”

“Six.”

I laughed. “Yeah, well, I’m not six. I’m fairly confident that I’m not going to break anything if I fall.”

“So, you’re positive, if I let go, you’re not going to come tumbling down?” he asked, and I became aware of his thumbs moving. They were slowly sliding up and down, just inside each hip bone, and I wasn’t even sure if he was aware of that.

But I was.