Roaring Midnight
Chapter EIGHTEEN

~ A Battle Lost ~
"Damned good thing my men found you when they did. Another ten, fifteen minutes and Mr. Vioget-he'd be very uncomfortable." The pungent scent of cigar smoke wafted through the air as Capone wandered across the rooftop.
Macey was already at Sebastian's side. His head hung upside down from the table, and he blinked groggily when she touched his arm. Bruises and cuts battered his bare torso and muscular arms. They'd sure as hell worked him over-they would have had to, in order to subdue a man with his cunning and strength. Even so, he was still strong and beautiful, like a golden lion ready to roar to action. And there was his vis bulla, settled like a tiny silver pool in the hollow of his navel. For a moment, she couldn't take her eyes off it.
"A pleasure to see you, Macey," Sebastian said, lifting his head to look at her with a crooked smile. Despite his obvious discomfort, his amber eyes were warm, glinting with levity and resolve. "No offense, but I was rather hoping you wouldn't make it in time. Then he'd have nothing with which to hold you."
She was already working on the knots at the wrist nearest the sun, but froze when something poked her in the back. The barrel of a gun.
"Let's not get ahead of ourselves." The cigar smoke curled around her. "Your friend will be freed as soon as you agree to my terms."
"Forget it, Macey. It's time. I'm ready to go-though, admittedly, it's not the way I'd have chosen. I have an aversion to pain, you know." Sebastian's voice was wry and strong. He grabbed at her hand with his left fingers, squeezing hard. "But it's best you're here to see it. And to take these." She knew he meant the Rings of Jubai, on that very hand.
"You aren't going to fry," she said, squeezing back and surreptitiously picking at the knot. "I won't let you, and neither will Mr. Capone."
The gangster had eased back around to face them while keeping the gun trained on her. "That's up to you, Miss Denton. Step away now or I'll use this. One bullet won't kill you, especially where I'll put it-but it'll slow you the fuck down."
Macey edged away, her attention darting about the roof. Nothing looked promising-the chairs were flimsy and wooden. The flowerpots too ungainly. +mly picture
"Do you accept my proposal or not?" her host pressed.
"No." She moved like lightning, grabbing a chair and spinning at the same time. She slammed it into Capone's gun arm, and the chair splintered as the weapon tumbled to the ground, skidding across the concrete floor.
To her surprise, instead of going after it, he lunged toward her. But Macey dodged and he caught only a fragment of her dress. It tore and she spun away, dashing into the penthouse. Candles went flying as she grabbed the metal candelabra from the piano and swung back to face him, holding it like a baseball bat.
The French doors slammed shut and Capone stood there, between her and the rooftop. "I suggest you reconsider. I might give you time to think, but the sun won't wait."
Macey gritted her teeth. Sebastian. "Why? Why do you want me? I'm just a weak broad. Won't you look ridiculous with itty-bitty me standing next to you, protecting you?"
"Cut the shit. I don't know who you're tryin' to fool, Macey Gardella. You're the one. And your friend out there-he might have a death wish, but I doubt your boyfriend does. Or your other friend. Or...well, take a look." He gestured to the desk.
Cold and numb, Macey walked over to find a slew of photos strewn over its surface. Pictu12;with Mrs. Gutchinson, with Chelle and Dottie...and Grady. Coming out of the Harper Library, talking to her co-worker Leena. And more.
"I hate it when people get caught in the crossfire," Capone commented as he poured himself a glass of whiskey. "But it happens."
It happened with Grady's aunt.
It happened, in an entirely different but even uglier way, with Chelle and Mrs. G.
And Flora.
Her stomach rebelled and it was all she could do to hold back the bile.
She was trapped.
Capone had put down his gun and now held the whiskey. He was no longer standing in front of the French doors. "I trust you're convinced?"
"You're even more cold hearted than they say."
He smiled thinly. "Don't believe the damned gossip, Macey Gardella. Believe the prophecy."
She frowned. "Prophecy?"
"As written by Rosamunde Gardella. The mystic."
Macey was bewildered, but she nodded. "Yes. But how do you..."
"She wrote a verse I found most interesting. 'From the deepest bowels of madnessq gangsterlyl f and grief shall the dauntless one root, who shall go forth to lay bare from the earth this condemned evil. The dauntless one shall make the half of the whole, and the whole shall be formidable as the ocean and unyielding as the mountain.' You, doll, are the dauntless one. And I," said Capone as he began to unbutton his shirt, "am the other half of the whole."
Macey stared in astonishment as the gangster pulled the white cotton apart, revealing his bare belly. It was surprisingly muscular and tighter than she'd expected, but that wasn't what caused her to snatch in her breath.
For, in the midst of the thatch of thick, dark hair was a tiny silver cross, pierced through the skin of his navel.
Macey couldn't speak for several long moments. Then finally, she had to say it aloud. "You're a Venator."
"Alphonsus Gardella Capone. Don't tell me my name isn't listed in the family Bible." His smile was half sneer, half bravado.
Just then, Macey noticed the bright sun filtering through the curtains on the French doors. It was brighter than before; its reach broader. "Sebastian!"
Capone moved faster than she'd expected, catching her by the arm and spinning her up against the entrance in one smooth flow. The doors crashed and rattled with the force, and the wind was knocked from her lungs. "Do you accept my proposal?"
She closed her eyes, drew in a deep breath. Thought not only of Sebastian, but of Grady. And Dottie. And anyone else she'd touched. Dammit...Flora too.
"Yes," she hissed in agreement.
Capone released her. She flung open the doors and was halfway across the brilliant sunlit roof by the time she realized Sebastian was gone. The ropes lay in empty crumples amid the remnants of the chair she'd flung at her captor.
The space was silent and still. No copper rings. No ash filtering through the air. She released a long, slow breath.
Macey turned to see her new employer-no, partner-standing in the doorway.
Al Capone had won this battle. They would work together to stop the undead, and God help her, she'd do her best to protect the man as well.
But she was going to make damned certain he didn't win the war.