Rare Vigilance (Whitethorn Agency)

When he spoke again, Jasper kept his voice lower and quieter. “My employer agrees with my assessment. It’s why we decided to approach you.”

“You still haven’t told me how I fit into this.”

“We are planning to move against Decebal soon.” Jasper held up a hand, forestalling Atlas’s protests. “We have no desire to put you in danger and involve you in that confrontation. We simply ask you to consider staying in Decebal’s employ for a little while longer. We will do all the heavy lifting, but we may...need someone to open the door, if you understand my meaning.”

Oh, he understood. He would be their mole, their fail-safe in case they needed access to Decebal. For a brief moment, the thought of betraying his employer struck him with such guilt he wanted to turn down the offer. But then he looked down and saw the bandages on his wrist peeking out from under his sleeve and that guilt transformed into something more useful. He’d always preferred living with a purpose, and anger provided him one. “Sounds like I’d be very helpful to you. So what’s in this for me?”

Jasper leaned back with a smug smile. “I thought that was obvious, Mr. Kinkaid. If we succeed, Decebal will no longer be a threat to Scarsdale, or anyone in it. Another monster removed from the world.”

Now he reached for the stack of papers. “Tell me more.”

Chapter Nine

As she’d promised, Bea called him that afternoon, shortly after he’d gotten home from his meeting with Jasper.

“So, you aren’t quitting?” she asked him for the fifth time. Apparently, she didn’t trust his lack of fight.

“I’ve thought it over and want to talk it out with Decebal. I’m sure he’ll understand that I spoke before I could process what had happened.”

“I’m sure he will,” Bea agreed. “He’s called my office several times, asking to talk to you. I don’t know exactly what you did, but he definitely doesn’t want you to quit.”

I surprised him, Atlas thought. I’m sure an ancient creature isn’t surprised often. And I know his secret now, which means he needs to do some kind of damage control. Out loud, he said, “I guess I’ll find out tonight.”

Rather than hang up as he assumed she’d do on a busy afternoon, Bea stuck around on the line. After a little while, she asked, “Atlas, are you absolutely sure about this? Last night you were adamant that this contract, that anything related to Decebal was dangerous. You matter most to me. I’d hate to lose work with him, especially after how difficult it was to get that work in the first place, but if it would keep you—”

Stable. Sane.

“—safer than you are now, I promise I’ll consider it.”

Her concern left his chest tight. He swallowed hard against the lump rising in his throat. No matter what had happened in their lives, no matter how bad things got, Bea always put him first. When their grandmother had been forced to move into assisted living, he asked Bea if they would be put in foster care and separated. Bea told him she didn’t know, but she’d make sure it wouldn’t happen. It hadn’t. His senior year of high school when he’d asked her what she thought of him enlisting, she’d told him it would be a huge fucking mistake, but she’d support him if it was what he wanted. She sent him so many stupid care packages, some of his buddies had tried to get him to set her up with them. When he’d woken up in the hospital and found her next to his bed, he’d asked her if he was crazy. She took his hand, squeezed, and answered, “No, Atlas, you’re not crazy. And we’ll figure this out together.” She’d never gone back on that. She’d hired him on, knowing there was a risk he wouldn’t be able to cut it. She’d forced him to accept financial help when he couldn’t get his feet under him. She checked in on him regularly.

Now, she was offering to undo her professional success, all for his sake. It couldn’t have been an easy decision for her to make, even harder to offer aloud to him. The cowardly part of him still wanted to take her up on it and keep her as far away from Decebal and his ilk as possible. Atlas had always hated being a coward.

“Bea, I appreciate the gesture. Really, I do. And I know I scared the hell out of you this morning.”

She murmured her agreement.

He continued, “I took your advice and ate and slept and I’ve got my head on a little better. So let me see how this meeting with Decebal goes before you do anything you might regret.”

“Okay,” she said slowly. “But only if you call me after you talk to him.”

“I’ll call you as soon as I can.”

“I love you, Atlas. Be careful with yourself.”

“I will. Love you too.” He hung up, even surer of the decision made outside Pullman Roasters.

The paperwork he’d reviewed—details of Decebal’s business dealings, his expansion over the years, and the looming threat of the power he’d hold over the region if he was allowed to continue unchecked—proved Jasper’s employer had done more than her fair share of due diligence. Her goal of removing Decebal’s threat was backed by time, money, and impressive resources at her disposal. Joining forces with them wasn’t jumping in with a crackpot team of podcasters hoping to break a supernatural story. This wouldn’t be a scattershot approach. This was a surgeon’s scalpel, and Atlas could get behind such precise work. Especially since it would secure Bea’s safety without asking her to give up anything else for his sake.

Now he just had to ensure he could return to Decebal’s employ.

* * *

The drive to the house hadn’t changed. Logically, Atlas knew that. It was the same paved road, the same sturdy trees, the same gate that opened for him when he typed in his code. But approaching the house and parking in his usual spot, knowing what kind of monsters were waiting for him inside, was different.

He leaned forward and looked out his windshield, seeing the grandeur again for the first time with his new eyes. He couldn’t look at the beautiful architecture without wondering how many bones the foundation was built on. Every grandiose detail, every opulent choice, was soaked in blood. As much as he wanted to judge Decebal and all the vampires living here and working for him, Atlas couldn’t. His own hands were stained in the same blood. Sure, he may not have known that at first, but he was here now, prepared to accept continued employment and payment from the creatures who had destroyed his life and killed his platoon. To accept that he was finally as lost and desperate as he’d feared becoming after his discharge. At least this time it was his choice.

He left his car and found Helias waiting for him at the front door. The consilier watched him warily, making sure to keep his distance, even as he tipped his head and said, “Welcome back, Mr. Kinkaid. Mr. Vladislavic is waiting for you in his study.”