Page 15 of Pulling Strings

Edging around the commotion, I returned to the counter where my glass and bottle of whiskey remained undisturbed. I topped off my cup and took a swig before calling Nash over.

“That’s not gonna kill him, is it?” I gestured to the next shot—highlighter yellow and glowing—being spilled as much on my brother as into him.

Nash gave the cocktail shaker he held a swish. “Nah. He might swell up like a blueberry and have to be rolled out of here, though. The unofficial party theme is Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory. I borrowed heavily from the source material.”

“Violet, you’re turning violet!” I gasped, feigning shock.

Nash chuckled. He pulled a highball glass and rimmer from under the bar. Sugar, salt, and slices of citrus fruit piled up in divided dishes.

“What’d Grimm want?” Nash asked.

“Hedging his bets.” I shrugged and grabbed an orange wedge to nibble. “Trying to make sure I’m aplayer in this weird, ritualistic game he’s got going. And giving me hell about the Reeves job, of course.”

“Of course.” Setting the shaker on the counter, Nash rubbed a slice of grapefruit around the lip of the highball glass, then dipped it in salt.

His warm, brown eyes flicked up to meet mine. “Are you, though?”

“Am I a player?” I asked.

He nodded.

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

With raucous frat party antics raging behind my turned back.

“That doesn’t mean anything.” Nash uncapped the shaker, then put the strainer on top, pouring a filmy pink drink into the prepared glass. He slid the highball to the edge of the counter for Pippa to retrieve.

Nash was unconvinced, but that didn’t mean it was a good idea to tell him I’d moved on from debating my brother’s initiation and was currently plotting how to stop it.

The cheers and shouts had slackened off, but I didn’t notice until Donovan slammed into the counter beside me, drenched and glowing like he was under a black light. He panted rapid breaths, and his eyes were wild. Not drunk—alchemy wasn’t meant for that. More likely his sampling of Willy Wonka’s wicked wares had made him high as fuck.

“Fitch,” he stammered, “Fitch, you gotta come with me. There’s a couple girls. They just got here, and I thought…”

He stabbed a finger at a pair of twenty-somethings in minidresses on the opposite side of the room. A blonde and a brunette. They slid into a booth down the row from where Grimm, Vinton, and Avery sat. Seeing they’d caught our attention, both girls beamed white-toothed smiles and tossed their hair like show ponies.

Getting my brother laid was as fine a birthday gift as I could offer, but I had more pressing matters on my mind.

“You know, that’s a great idea,” I began, “but can I borrow you for a minute first? Maybe somewhere private?”

I tipped my head toward the balcony overlooking the bar area. A private lounge with sunken round booths jutted from one wall like box seating in a stadium. I joked that it was Nash’s Red Room of Romance since I often took girls up there to enjoy the solitude and the view. It was also nearest to the speakers, ideal for muting conversations best kept from the general public.

Donovan frowned. His head wobbled with the signs of a definite high as he looked from the girls to me and back again.

I grabbed his arm. “Come on.”

I should have done this last night or weeks ago when time wasn’t so short. Honestly, I should have taken care of it years ago. But I’d been selfish. And afraid. I didn’t want to face the Bloody Hex and all the shit that came with them on my own. I thought I could keep Donovan from it, and I had… until now.

Dragging my reluctant brother across the room made more of a scene than I anticipated. Not surprisingly, it drew Grimm’s attention.

He rose from his seat in the corner booth, shooing Avery onto the floor in his haste to stand.

“Donnie!” His booming voice managed to make everything else seem quiet. “Fitch!”

Donovan stopped in place like a dropped anchor.

“Meeting,” Grimm announced. “Upstairs. Now.”

“Gentlemen.”

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