Page 115 of Finlay

“Um…” My mind went blank. “Shit. I don’t. Fuck.”

Chester sighed. “I’m making a note to buy you an address book. Okay, so how are we going to track him down?Can you sniff him out or something?”

My lips twitched. “Aye, but we don’t need to. We’re in Southampton, which means there’s only one place to go if you’re looking for a supe.”

I googled the address and showed Chester. “A bar? Finn, I don’t think that’s going to be open at ten a.m.”

“We don’t need it to be open, we just need it to be warded. Crossing the ward is a surefire way to guarantee an audience.”

“An audience with who?”

I jutted my chin towards the taxi pick up spot. “The sons of Lucifer.”

Chester grew more tense on the drive over to The Closet. He stared out of the window broodily, aperma-frown on his forehead. At first I’d put it down to the supes I was taking him to meet. I imagined most humans would feel a sense of trepidation over meeting the literal spawn of Satan.

But as we raced through the city, I knew it was something else. This tension was one I recognised in him.

One, I realised, I hadn’t seen in several weeks.

Throwing up a compulsion net so we could speak freely, I reached over and squeezed his hand. “What’s wrong, m’eudail?”

Chester shook himself and gave me a tight smile. “Nothing.”

I pursed my lips. “I’m calling bullshit.”

“Fine,” he sighed. “It’s just…the last time I was down this end of the country, I was fleeing from Matt. It’s brought back some memories. That’s all.”

Guilt rushed over me. “Fuck, that didn’t even occur to me. I’m so sorry, Chester. Is there anything I can do?”

He shook his head, his smile coming easier this time. “Nah. I’ll be fine. It’s not like we’re going anywhere near where we used to live. It’s just…”

His voice faded away as he chewed on his lip. It had me unclicking my seat belt and sliding closer to him. “Tell me, m’eudail.”

“I’m being ridiculous,” he said, the words rushing out, “but I’ve got this weird feeling that he’s going to pop up somehow. If we see him, do you think you can stop him talking to me?”

Was that what he was worried about? Running into his ex and having to interact with him?

“I know it’s daft to even ask,” he hurried on. “But I’ve only just got his voice out of my mind. I don’t want to givehim any power over me ever again. The thought of having to be around him makes me want to hurl.”

“M’eudail.” I cupped his face and leaned my forehead against his. “That’s not daft at all. I imagine most people wouldn’t want to come face to face with their abuser. But you don’t need to worry.”

“I don’t?”

“Nae. If we run into him, he’ll be dead before he can open his mouth.”

Chester’s eyes widened. “Finn, you can’t just murder people for upsetting me.”

I kissed his lips once before sitting back. “Actually, I can. It’s one of the benefits of being a supe. I’m very efficient at it. And he didn’t upset you, he abused you.”

Chester’s throat bobbed. “That doesn’t mean he deserves to die.”

“Doesn’t mean he deserves to live either.” We drew up outside The Closet and I lifted the compulsion net to thank the driver. “Either way, you don’t need to worry. Matt won’t ever be allowed within a hundred feet of you.”

The car sped away, leaving us on the pavement outside the nightclub.

“It’s closed,” Chester said in dismay. “Better hope it’s warded or we’re back to square one.”

Distant footsteps thundered inside the property, like someone running downstairs. Supernaturally fast. “Oh, it’s warded all right.”

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