Page 11 of Wreaking Havoc
Because surely a little Mafia squabble was nothing in comparison to a literal demon summoned from some hell dimension, right?
But there was someone else Sascha wanted to speak to first.
He pulled his phone out of his pocket—giving a quick little prayer of thanks to the technology gods that he’d had it on him when he’d run out—and dialed the only number other than Ivan’s he actually had memorized.
“Sascha?”
A wave of relief ran through Sascha at the sound of his brother’s voice. “Alexei,” he sighed. “Alyosha,” he amended,switching to the rarely-used Russian diminutive of his brother’s name, weirdly comforted just saying it.
He should have known that would be a dead giveaway.
“What’s wrong?” Alexei asked, alarm in his voice. “What’s happened? Where’s this area code you’re calling from?”
There was so much Sascha wanted to say that he didn’t even know where to begin.
Everything’s wrong. I was stabbed. I’m in a strange place. Someone’s after me, and I didn’t evendoanything. There’s an honest-to-God demon waiting for me in my living room.
Alexei had always been the one Sascha had turned to, growing up. Seven years older, Alexei was the only one in their family who’d looked after him without asking for complete subservience in return. He’d been a safe space. A haven.
But then he’d left.
He’dleft.
Sascha hesitated. “Nothing’s wrong. I—” He paused. He remembered, just then, something that had happened shortly after Alexei had left. Sergei had gone after him and had come back with his tail between his legs, claiming that Alexei was a monster and that his boyfriend was too. He’d clearly meant it literally but wouldn’t say anything beyond that.
“The eyes,” he’d kept saying.
Glowing, freaky blue demon eyes, perhaps?
Sascha nibbled on his lower lip. “Hey, Alexei. Is your boyfriend by any chance a demon?”
“Excuse me?” All the warmth and concern left Alexei’s voice in an instant, leaving it cold and eerily similar to Ivan’s.
Sascha pressed on. If he’d let himself be intimidated by cold, eerie voices, he’d never have done anything remotely fun in his entire life. “You know, a demon. Giant dude with horns and smoke and weird, moving tattoos? Possibly summoned from an old book you found? Ring any bells?”
“I’ve sent you photos of Jay. Does that description really fit?”
Oh, right. Sascha let out a sigh. “I seem to have summoned one accidentally. A demon, that is. He’s waiting for me at my house. Says he needs a contract. Do you think he means, like, my soul?”
There was a long pause. When Alexei spoke again, he no longer sounded cold. Just…tired. “Listen, I’m sorry I haven’t been checking in more. I did try calling your old number last week, but it didn’t go through.”
Of course. Alexei thought this was just a cry for attention. What else was he supposed to think? Sascha tried to keep his voice light, even as his heart sank. “Oh, that’s okay. You know me. Always landing on my feet, with the help of Papa’s money. Or Ivan’s, now, since Papa’s dead and all. Which you know!” He let out a laugh. “You were at the funeral and everything.”
“Sascha…”
“Anyway, got to go! Demon in my living room and all. Ta-ta.”
He dropped the call, mortified to find he was holding back tears. What had he really expected? For Alexei to drop everything and run back to him because Sascha was spouting deranged nonsense about demons?
He was a grown man, for fuck’s sake. He shouldn’t be asking for Alexei to clean up his messes in the first place. And more than that, he knew better. People left—left Sascha—and they never, ever came back. Not his mother. Not any of his dozens of nannies. Not Alexei.
Ivan would probably do the same someday, most likely by way of a bullet through his head.
“Hey, you all right?”
Sascha took his eyes off the ground and looked up to find he’d made his way downtown after all, his feet apparently on autopilot. There was a handsome buff dude standing in front of the door to the town’s one and only gay bar.
Sascha cleared his throat, blinking back his traitorous tears. “I’m fine.”
