Midnight Curse

“Plus, now you have no time to figure out who the real bad guy is,” Jesse pointed out. “You’re right; even if I’d never met Molly, I would think the timing was sketchy. Especially since the blood-gorging thing doesn’t happen very often?” He’d made it into a question, his eyebrows raised.

“Definitely not,” I said. “I’ve never even heard of a vampire drinking down that many people in one . . . sitting. With the vomiting and all. There’s just no point to it.”

Jesse nodded, but mostly to himself. I could see the wheels turning in his head. “Does this mean you’ll help me figure out who did this?” I asked, unable to keep the hope out of my voice. “I’ve only got a day, and Molly’s life is on the line.”

Jesse hesitated, his eyes darting around the room for a moment. “I can’t, Scar,” he said finally. “I can help you brainstorm over the phone, maybe, but I just can’t be a part of this again.”

A knot of disappointment and sadness tightened in my chest. It wasn’t so long ago that Jesse had promised me he’d be my partner. How had so much changed between us? “Why not?” I whispered.

“I’m not going to be any help, for one thing.” His face shifted into something . . . broken. “I don’t think I have anything left, Scarlett. I’m pretty much just a void at this point.”

“Sounds like a sitcom,” I offered. “Null and Void: crime solvers who need therapy.”

He didn’t laugh, so I tried again. “Jesse, you’ve already helped, just by talking through it with me.” And I’m scared, and this is really big, and I need someone I can trust. Once, I might have said that out loud, but not anymore.

He gestured around the room. “There’s also the thing where every time I get involved in one of your cases, my life goes to shit.”

Whoa. “Excuse me? I didn’t make you get married, or divorced, or write that book.”

“Yeah, but all those things happened because I quit the LAPD.”

Anger built in my chest. “I didn’t make you do that, either!”

“Didn’t you?” he countered, his voice icy-quiet. It unnerved me. Jesse and I had gone toe-to-toe plenty of times, but I’d never seen him so resigned. Like nothing I said would pull him out of his own personal black hole, so why did this fight matter?

Molly’s voice rang in my head. The hole you left him in.

“No,” I said firmly, both to her and to Jesse. I wasn’t taking this on too. “You made your own choices, Cruz, just like everyone else. It’s not my fault you can’t live with them.”

Shadow, who was on her feet watching this exchange, now moved to stand solidly between us, her teeth pointed toward Jesse. He gave her a hurt look. To me, he just said, “I think it’s time for you to go.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” I said through my teeth.

As I walked—okay, stomped—into the elevator with Shadow, the conversation ran on a loop in my head. Despite what I’d said, I couldn’t help but feel a little bit responsible for Jesse’s situation. Three years ago, I had pushed him into breaking his moral code, which had kicked off this whole downward spiral.

Or maybe I just felt guilty that I hadn’t tried to stop his descent. During the years I’d been happy with Eli, I hadn’t bothered to do anything about this other person I’d affected deeply. I had known Jesse was flailing, but I’d told myself that calling would only make things worse for him. I’d been a coward.

And now Molly would pay the price. He wasn’t going to help me, and I’d just wasted a very precious hour and a half learning that.

I slammed open the building’s front door, which ended up being very dissatisfying because it was on those air-compressed hinges that refuse to slam. Shadow had to trot by my side as I stormed down the street toward my van. What the hell was I going to do now? I needed to get back to that storage unit, but I had to wait for daylight, when Frederic wouldn’t be there. That left me with hours to kill—and no idea how I could use them to help Molly.

I was so busy fuming, my eyes fixed on the sidewalk in front of me, that I never saw the SUV creeping up the street behind me. I didn’t even register it until it was nearly alongside me, and even then I didn’t bother glancing over. If I had, I probably would have seen the window go down and the rifle barrel appear. But I didn’t notice the car.

Not until the first shot hit me.

Chapter 9

As Scarlett stomped down the hall, Jesse was practically tingling with indignation. He wasn’t happy about Molly’s predicament, of course, but his first instinct about Scarlett had basically been correct: she’d thought he would come running again the second she batted her eyes.

Not this time, he thought, feeling self-righteous.

Jesse went over to his couch and dropped down. His eyes landed on the ground in front of the apartment entrance, and he noticed a folded piece of paper just inside the doorway. He frowned. A note from one of the neighbors?

Sighing, he heaved himself to his feet and went to retrieve it. It was a flyer for guitar lessons, complete with the little tear-off tabs on the bottom. On the back side, however, he recognized Scarlett’s scribbled handwriting. She’d written it when she’d thought he wasn’t home. He hadn’t spotted it when they walked in.

Jesse—I don’t have your current cell phone number, but I’m taking a chance that you still keep this place. I need your help, as quick as possible. Please call me. She’d underlined “please” several times. I know a lot has happened between us, and most of it’s my fault. But I find myself in need of a partner again, and you’re the only one I trust. I’ll think about how sad that is later. –Scarlett

Jesse found himself smiling faintly. He had resented Scarlett and the Old World for manipulating him into those cases, and he’d hated himself for getting sucked into the excitement and the danger. He still had nightmares about destroying the bodies of Henry Remus’s victims, denying their families the closure that came with burying the dead. Jesse had violated so many laws that it had felt like too much of a betrayal to put on his badge again. And yes, he did sort of blame Scarlett for that. How could he not? She had broken his heart in so many ways.

He moved his finger, and saw a small postscript near the bottom of the sheet, just above the tabs. P.S.: I understand if you don’t want to get sucked back in. You’re free now. But why did we go through all that if not to do some good?

Jesse looked up, around the pathetic living room, and experienced a strange sense of vertigo—followed by an epiphany.

She was so right.

A million years ago, he had become a cop so he could help people. Then Dashiell and the others had taken his feelings for Scarlett and his desire to minimize collateral damage to the public, and they’d twisted him into breaking laws. But he wasn’t a cop anymore. And he wasn’t in love with Scarlett. There was nothing left for them to manipulate him with, no career left to compromise. He was free. And what was the point of all that turmoil if he wasn’t going to do anything with his freedom? Scarlett was offering him a chance to save a life again, and she wasn’t threatening or extorting him to do it. So why not choose to help her save Molly?

What the hell else was he doing?

He felt like he’d just woken up from a restless sleep. Jesse dropped the paper and started running.

He went straight for the stairs, which were generally a lot faster than taking the old elevator, and bounded through the exterior door only a few seconds after Scarlett. She was up the street, her head down, the bargest glued to her side.

Then he saw the SUV. Jesse’s guts twisted with fear as the back window slowly lowered. “Scarlett!” he shouted.

She turned, looking surprised, and the first bullet exploded the sleeve of her jacket, causing her to cry out.

By then Shadow was on her, moving so fast that Jesse couldn’t see what was happening. He thought Shadow had knocked her to the ground, but a metal trash can was blocking his line of vision. In nearly the same moment, there were two more rifle shots, and Jesse bolted forward, his hand on his hip—and then he remembered he wasn’t carrying. His personal weapon was locked in a safe in his bedroom, probably gathering dust.