Serina was Victor Escorcia’s wife? She was the new leader, too? I felt the all too familiar rage building in my chest. The world was not safe with people like them in it. A revolting, sadistic power couple. “I’m in.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
The event would be held at King’s creepy death-house-on-a-hill back in San Francisco. He insisted it would make a statement that the rightful leader of Ten Club had returned to claim his throne and settle unfinished business. Basically, it was a showdown, and everyone was coming to watch.
I guessed some members wouldn’t be happy to see King again, especially the individuals who’d killed his family. King said he didn’t know specifically who they were—he’d been too distraught at the time to find out—but that didn’t matter now. Ten Club, all of them, were going down. Either way, if I were in those particular members’ shoes, I’d be showing up to back Serina. I would be scared shitless of King retaking leadership, because, well, payback.
They’re getting it anyway. And I felt zero guilt. Except for the part about ending King’s life, too. He didn’t understand what I felt. Neither did I, really. My best guess was it had something to do with my Seer blood. He had a long history with them, and if what he said was true, about their souls never really moving on, perhaps I knew him long ago?
Or maybe we were connected by our good buddy, Mr. Death. I wondered how long death had been hanging out around me.
Now sitting in King’s plane on our way back to San Francisco, an image of the grim reaper popped in my head. Grim was standing in a dark corner while I blew out the candles on my cake at my tenth birthday party.
King chuckled from the seat behind me.
I twisted my body and looked around the seat back. “Can’t I have a little privacy?”
“My apologies, but I cannot help hearing you. And that was amusing. The grim reaper at a child’s party with unicorn balloons and—”
“Why can’t you help hearing me?”
“I have developed a very powerful ability, and you have a powerful gift. Perhaps our frequencies are on similar wavelengths. Perhaps it is our connection with death, as I mentioned before. Honestly, I do not give a fuck.”
He went back to typing something on a laptop that had been waiting on board when we arrived. It was weird thinking that he had a quiet army of loyal servants, whom he never discussed, but it was even weirder seeing him do work on a computer like a regular guy.
He raised a brow, not meeting my gaze. “I am not a god, Jeni. I am merely a man who has lived an extraordinarily long life.”
He was much more than that, and he knew it. He was also unspeakably beautiful. I could stare at him for hours and never get tired of it.
“You flatter me.” He cracked a subtle smile.
“What if you stayed around a while?” I didn’t understand why he needed to die with the rest of Ten Club.
His smile melted away into a cold scowl. “No.” He returned to typing.
I stood up in the aisle and pushed his laptop closed to get his attention. “I’m serious. You could stay a little longer.”
“To do what, Miss Arnold?”
I liked when he used my last name. I think because he only said it when he was trying to push me away. I liked getting under his skin.
I folded my arms over my chest. “What did you do before?”
“You mean before in my first life, the second, third, fourth or—”
“When you met Mia. And I mean outside of running Ten Club.”
“I mostly collected things—objects I could use to maintain power. I spent several years hunting for the Incan Chalice of Life.”
I raised a brow. “You just…treasure hunted.”
“Do not mock me, Jeni.”
“I’m not mocking you. I’m surprised you didn’t run any companies or start a business.”
He looked away for a moment. “For a while, I found things for people.”
I smirked. “You mean you were a detective?”
“No.” He looked insulted. Tight lips. Narrowed eyes. “I gained a reputation for being able to find people or things. For a price. I found it useful, considering the individuals who generally came to me were often wealthy or powerful, and it helped to have them in my debt. I grew quite a network of loyal allies.”
“You mean like those men who drive for you, or the guy who flies your plane.”
“The Spiros family is from Crete—as am I, originally. They have served me for a very long time.”
I wondered if it was by choice. Wait. Crete? I had a great-grandmother from Crete.
“Yes,” he said, “that is where your bloodline originated. The Seer gene skips every few generations. Females only.”
“Was my great-grandmother—”
“A Seer? I do not know.”
“So you didn’t know her.”