Page 30 of Consume Me

I wanted to know who had cocked this up so magnificently. When Jacobson had been freed, we’d watched him closely for any signs he was in contact with others. But there’d been no activity. I’d thought it was a play to look innocent. Now that I knew the truth, I realized someone had been manipulating the situation.

“They don’t have a name, but they are friends. For now,” he added ominously.

That cleared it up. There was only one group who had their fingers on the pulse of this situation who would dare to step in. I’d been avoiding seeking their help.

Smith stiffened next to me, the only sign that any of this had shaken him.

“They would like to speak with you, if you would be so kind as to follow us.” He didn’t wait for a response instead, he circled around the black saloon and slid in.

We waited until the other did the same. They had us blocked in for the moment, but that didn’t mean either of us would blindly follow.

“This could be a trap,” Smith said instantly.

“I know.” I ran a hand through my hair, wondering how to process all the information left unspoken during this exchange. “It’s the Ghosts.”

“That seems obvious, but…” he trailed away, and I knew what he wasn’t saying.

Too obvious? Whoever was behind Clara’s disappearance would know about the Council of Ghosts, the shadowy group that decided when a monarch needed to be deposed. They knew that any king would fear them. But I wasn’t any king and I had nothing left to lose.

“If it’s a trick, they’ll lead us to answers,” I argued. Possibly to wherever they kept Clara.

“Or they’ll put a bullet in your brain,” Smith said, shaking his head. “It’s a risk. Why would the Council be involved with Jacobson? Or any of this?”

I smirked despite myself. That I understood without doubt. “It’s all ego. Another party stepped into their territory. Whoever killed my father crossed a line.”

Smith looked looked to number 414. The house Jacobson called home was innocuous, blending in to its surroundings just as he had, even if it was a bit too high brow for a man who railed against the aristocracy. “He’s not the one we’re after.”

It was a realization that stung. We both had good reason for wanting to see Jacobson dead. He’d threatened the our families. He’d pulled strings and ruined lives. Did it matter if he wasn’t the one in charge? He was responsible for causing our loved ones pain. He had tried to take our wives from us. “He doesn’t deserve to live.”

“He doesn’t deserve to die by a king’s hand, either. That’s too good a death for him. He’ll think it means he was right. He should waste away,” Smith said in a hollow voice. “Let him rot until everyone sees him for what he truly is.”

“And them?” I asked, tipping my head to the cars idling around us.

“They might have answers,” he said.

We both knew they might not. The possibility was all that mattered. We’d been grasping at shadows for days, so why not go to see the ghosts? I reached for the door handle and nodded. “It’s worth it if they do.”

“And if they don’t?” Smith called as he went to the driver’s side.

I didn’t answer him. With each shut door and dead end, I felt further from Clara. She was my light. Maybe I was desperately seeking some new source of hope to tap, but I was a man caught in a labyrinth and with each failure, I learned something. Eventually, the path would be clear. I had to believe that.

I had no other choice.

It wasn’t a surprise when we were led to White’s, but it did dispel the tension lingering in the car. This was where we’d met the council last time. Smith had been with me. I felt a hollow pang remembering Norris by my side as well. I wished he was here now, guiding me. Because even if all signs pointed to the legitimacy of this meeting, I couldn’t ignore that this was a group of men who held the power of life and death over me.

Smith shot the valet a terrifying look when he held his hand out for the keys. “Worth more than your life.”

The younger man’s eyes widened and he nodded.

“You have a way with people,” I muttered as we made our way inside. I’d kept the sunglasses on for good measure. My brother had just announced the news of our grandmother’s death and that my wife was on bed rest. I didn’t know how it would look to be seen going into a club.

“He didn’t take one look at you,” Smith said smoothly as we waited for the doorman. “No one did. You’re welcome.”

I snorted, only half believing that his little show had anything to do with me and everything to do with the multi-million dollar car he’d just entrusted to some pipsqueak.

Once, we were inside, we could both relax. A little. White’s was a notoriously elitist club, which meant that no one here would risk their membership for a bit of gossip. The porter at the desk recognised me from our last disastrous encounter and waved us in without comment.

“I thought they might require a blood sample this time,” Smith said flatly as we climbed the stairs. “Spent much time here in your youth?”