“Just tell them, already. You know if it’s a witch helping them, they could be working to get Baxter out of hell,” Thorn theorized. “But breaking a blood contract is serious business. It would not be easy to get him out. Let’s face it. Your sire had his chance at Earth. He made choices that are eternal in nature. Once the devil got his soul, he’s not just going to spring him. Once you’re in Hell, paying the terms of the contract…it’s eternal. That’s how it works.”
“What is this hole?” Ilsbeth asked.
“What hole?” Viktor responded. He reached for the fleam and inspected it.
“Do you see it? It’s on the tip. It’s barely visible.”
Viktor homed in on the miniscule pin prick within the inlaid gold.
“Maybe it’s like a door lock,” Waverly suggested. “You know. Like the ones you’d have at home on bedroom doors.”
She was greeted with silence.
“I’m talking about a modern home. For humans. I know a locked door is probably nothing for supernaturals such as yourselves, but us regular old humans have doorknobs with holes in them. You need a small pin to depress the lock.”
Ilsbeth made quick work of removing a stud earring and gave it to Viktor. “Here. See if this works.”
Viktor took a deep breath, ruminating about his sire. There was no way the sick bastard could have survived the fall. No way he escaped Hell.
“Viktor.” Ilsbeth’s voice shook his contemplation, and he refocused.
Without answering the witch, he slid the end of the earring against the gold. As the pin slipped into the hole, an audible click sounded. His heart pounded in his chest as a minute section of the gold inlay popped open, revealing a secret compartment.
He tilted the metal towards the light so he could better see inside it. His stomach dropped as he read the numbers. 22:11 “The fuck not.”
“What is it?” Waverly asked.
Viktor lifted his gaze, his expression flat. He swore that monster wouldn’t ever hurt him again. “Two, two. Eleven.”
“Mother fucker,” Greyson grumbled.
“Fuck him,” Quintus said.
“What is it? What does it mean?” Waverly asked Viktor.
“Revelations,” he stated, his tone cold. “One of Baxter’s favorite quotes. The sick fuck.”
“Let the evildoer still do evil, and the filthy still be filthy, and the righteous still do right, and the holy still be holy,” Greyson recalled.
“Told ya.” Thorn gave a smug smile. “Big Satan energy right there. The owner knows the deal. Yo boy made a deal.”
“Maybe this belonged to him. I don’t know.” Viktor held up the fleam. “But it doesn’t mean he’s out of Hell or raised from the dead. It’s nothing more than a prop.”
“I suggest you keep it in a safe place,” Ilsbeth warned. “I could hold it for you.”
“No fucking way.” Viktor shook his head.
“So now what?” Waverly asked. “We just wait around for Adam? I think I should call him. Confront him.”
“We’ll smoke the fucker out all right, but we need to catch the bigger fish,” Viktor replied, anger coursing through him. “Whoever is orchestrating this grand chess game wants my attention. And now they’ve got it. I think it’s time to go back to the blood club in Miami. The same one Teagan told you to go to. It was all planned. They wanted you there.”
“Maybe Teagan went back to the club,” Waverly suggested.
“She’s probably dead,” Thorn offered. “I could look for her in Hell.”
“Perhaps someone saw an opportunity that night in Miami. The guy I killed. I didn’t bother to find out who he was. And when I saw you…” Viktor recalled the first time he’d laid eyes on her, the immediate interest she’d stirred within him. “I don’t normally get involved. Someone could have seen us. Read something into my reaction.”
“But can we all agree Baxter’s dead?” Quintus said, standing. “I killed him. Viktor said he was in Hell. Thorn just said he’s in Hell.”
“Well,” Thorn held up a dismissive finger, “what I said is that I think he’s in Hell. I can’t be one hundred percent sure about these things. I don’t have those kind of clearances. But in general, I’d agree. Like ninety-nine percent. Someone who makes a blood contract with Satan isn’t just going to walk away. That soul is gonna be locked up tight. It’s eternal damnation at its finest.”
“If anyone would try to get out of Hell, it’d be Baxter.” Viktor wrapped the fleam in the cloth and stuffed it into his pocket. Frustration boiled inside him. “We know what he was capable of when he walked this realm. He spent centuries turning humans, torturing us. The things we saw…those days are over now."
Viktor ruminated in the silence, anger burning in his gut. He blew out a breath and pinned both Quintus and Greyson with a serious stare. “Whoever is playing this game doesn’t realize we, too, know evil. We learned from the grandmaster. While it’s true we may have chosen other paths, his lessons are branded in our souls. The violence. The darkness. It’s like a stain you can’t quite get out, what we were taught, it never really goes away. Whoever this is is about to learn a hard lesson of their own.”
Viktor held Waverly tight as they materialized in front of the blood club. He nodded to Greyson, who gave a low chuckle as he released Rafe. With his hands on his knees, Rafe bent over, heaving for breath.
“You okay, pet?” Viktor asked her, his lips pressed to her hair.
“Yeah,” she responded.
“Goddammit, that’s a trip,” Rafe laughed.
“He’s wet behind the ears.” Greyson gave him a pat on the back.
“Fuck off, old man,” Rafe shot back. “I could run circles around you.”
“The pup has spirit,” Greyson laughed.
“He’s vampire now,” Viktor reminded his brother.
“I’ll always be more wolf, Dad,” Rafe asserted.
“Stop calling me that.” Viktor gave Waverly one last squeeze before releasing her. Warmth tugged at his heart as she smiled at him. Fuck, he hated dragging her into this sleezy blood club.
A cold breeze blew across his skin and Viktor stilled, on alert. Something was watching. Out there waiting for him. Evil, as cold as a dead heart.
“Do you feel it?” Viktor asked.
Waverly and Rafe shook their head no.
“Something is here, all right.” Greyson stepped in front of Rafe and cased the building.
“What are we looking for?” Waverly asked, her voice strained.
“I don’t know just yet. But there’s something here. It’s cold.” Viktor held out his hand. “Do you feel it?”
Waverly closed her eyes and extended her hand. “Yes.” Her eyes flew open. “That’s so weird.”
“Fucking bad vibes is what it is,” Greyson told him.
Viktor stared at the club, taking in the sight of the run-down building. Flecks of lime green paint peeled from the crumbling brick exterior. A large neon sign hung above its entrance, its hot pink letters flickering. Beijo de Satanás