Sweet Peril (The Sweet Trilogy #2)(32)

“He killed him,” I whispered. Dad raised his chin in confirmation.

“Last week was the anniversary of Erik’s death. I had a tail on Flynn, and he drove out to the rock quarry where they made him dump the body all those years ago.”

He pulled a second picture from the envelope.

Flynn sat near the edge of the quarry, seeming unconcerned by its steep, devastating drop of several hundred feet to the water below. His legs splayed open in front of him, and he cradled his face in his hands. The display of grief and remorse made me pull back from the picture, ill.

“He’s a little rough around the edges, Anna, but don’t be too scared of him. He should come around easier than the daughter of Sonellion.”

I sure hoped so.

“How is Z?” I asked. “Have any of your whisperers checked on her?”

“She’s hanging in there.”

Kope and I looked at each other. I wished all this planning didn’t have to take so long. Dad handed us tickets to Flynn’s fight, two backstage passes, our hotel information, and Flynn’s home address before kissing my forehead good-bye.

The last leg of the flight was uneventful except for one tiny skirmish. Kope and I were delirious with sleepiness. I tried to get him to take a drink of my latte, wanting to see him bounce off the cabin walls from a dose of caffeine. He batted away my lame attempts to bring my cup to his mouth, laughing. Then he very uncharacteristically poked my waist and I squeaked. The older gentleman in the row next to us stared with disapproval, and I backed away.

“Let us compromise,” Kope said. “You take a drink of my green tea and I will have a drink of your . . . sugared mud.”

“Deal!”

We switched drinks and I almost gagged at the bitter natural flavor. His nose crinkled in return.

“There’s no sugar in this!” I declared, just as he said, “That is too sweet!”

After a bit more laughing I settled down and tried to focus on my homework. It took a while, but I finished it then slept until we began descending. I was glad to see the city of Melbourne through the window when I awoke: a cluster of high-rises along the iridescent ocean. The water sparkled and winked up at us as we came in for landing.

The Australian summer was a welcome change from the chilliness I’d left behind in Georgia. At our snazzy hotel, the people were friendly, refusing tips. I smiled like an idiot at their awesome accents, although I guess technically I was the one with the accent.

When I checked in at the front desk, I was handed a small sealed box.

“This was delivered for you, miss.”

I thanked the concierge and tucked it into my pocket.

Kope and I rode the mirrored elevator to the fifth floor. We gave our spare room keys to each other in case of an emergency.

After agreeing on a time to meet, we went our separate ways. The first thing I noticed inside my room were the chocolates on the pillows of the enormous king-size bed.

“Yes!” I threw myself on top of the oversized downiness and ate the chocolates, one right after the other. Then I sat up, cross-legged, and opened the box that’d been left for me. Inside was a small black dagger and sheath. I grinned. Thanks, Dad.

I was tired, but full of adrenaline, so I decided to explore the room. I opened the giant wooden bureau and found a television. The next cabinet hid a minifridge. I squatted and opened it, expecting to find it empty. But it wasn’t.

It was full of alcohol.

My heart banged and my hands got clammy.

No harm in looking . . .

I sat down, removing a minibottle of tequila and cradling it in my palm. It’s funny how the body reacts similarly to different types of longings, be it a craving for substances or a case of lust: blood and breath quickening, skin heating, palms dampening. With slow deliberation, I placed the golden liquor back in its spot, loving the sound of the bottles clinking together.

A soft knock sounded from the other side of the wall, and I jumped, slamming the fridge closed. I moved my hearing outward through the wall and whispered, “Kope?”

“Anna? Are you behaving?” His voice had a teasing tone. He’d heard the bottles. Aagh! Geez, did other Neph ever take a break from listening?

“Um,” I stammered. “Just looking, Mr. Parole Officer.”

He chuckled.

I wouldn’t have drank anything, but I’d certainly been entertaining the daydream. “I’m gonna take a shower now.”

When I saw the giant sunken tub with fancy bottles of soaps, I decided on a bubble bath instead. While I lay in the foamy hot water, I found myself humming the chorus to Lascivious’s new song. That would not do. So I changed it to the next thing that came to mind: a poppy little tune that Jay always blasted for us girls in his car. Then a horrifying thought stopped me. Was Kope listening to me splash around in the bathtub, singing? He wouldn’t do that, would he? The very idea made me all tingly and paranoid. I slunk down a little farther into the bubbles and shut my mouth.

Once I was good and wrinkly I wrapped myself in the hotel’s plush robe. Dad had suggested we dress nicely for the arena. It was a Christmas Eve fight. I’d brought a flowing black, knee-length skirt made of stretchy material and a fitted maroon blouse. Bad outfit choice. Where was I supposed to put the hilt? The dagger was already strapped to my inner thigh. I couldn’t wear the hilt on my ankle, and it bulged under the fabric of the skirt when I tried to put it at my waist. Kope would have to hold it for me. I sent my hearing into his room.