“Then I guess you better hope he’s more like James,” I say.

James looks up, red-faced; I laugh a little inside.

“Where is Victor?” Fredrik asks. “He had to tell you that much, at least.”

I nod. “He’s on his way to Dina Gregory’s as far as I know.”

No one says anything, knowing what that means.

The sound of shoes tapping against the floor outside in the hallway becomes evident, and all eyes turn to the doors; guns come out of our pants and boots and such, fixed in our hands, ready to fire if needed. I admit, even I’m holding my breath a little. Because Nora could be right about my brother finally being pushed over the edge. I also have to agree with her about not liking any of this, or where it feels like it’s going. Hell, I pretty much agree with Nora one hundred percent in this whole ordeal, but I’ll be damned if I give her the satisfaction of knowing it.

Voices exchange words outside the door, and then seconds later, one side of the double-doors opens into the meeting room. A tall black man with short black hair walks in, dressed from shoulders to toes in a black-and-gray suit and black shoes; diamond-and-silver stud earrings shimmer against his semi-dark skin. He looks about my age, maybe a little older. Nora seems to be covertly checking him out—good, maybe he can take her off my hands. And my dick.

Holding out my empty hand, I offer the man a chair at the opposite end of the table. “Have a seat.”

He nods, and then sits. Only after he sits do I follow suit. I keep my gun in my hand.

“I’m Niklas Fleischer, Victor’s brother.”

“Yeah, I know who you are,” he speaks up, and already he’s pissing me off. “I know who all of you are. Victor briefed me well before sending me here.” He raises his arms, elbows propped on the table in front of him, and folds his hands together; silver-and-diamond cufflinks shine demonstrably on the wrists of his dress shirt poking from the ends of his jacket sleeves.

Sucking on the inside of my mouth, I say bitterly, “I wish I could say the same about you. Victor told me your name is Osiris, but not much more than that. In fact, the only thing I know about what happened in Venezuela is what happened to Izabel. It’s been two weeks and I don’t know shit, so you’ll have to excuse the fucking chip on my shoulder because you know more about my brother than I do.”

Osiris smirks. Motherfucker.

He unfolds his hands and rests his back in the chair, puts his hands in his lap.

“I’ll just get right to the point,” he says.

“Yeah, that’d be the wise choice,” I come back.

He ignores my attempt at provoking him.

“My brother and sister are responsible for what happened in Venezuela,” he says, looks at us all one by one, and then continues. “And I was hired by Victor Faust to help track them down, capture them, and bring them to him alive.”

I set my gun down on the table, but keep it well within my reach. “I see,” I say, aggravated and suspicious. “But that doesn’t mean shit to me. I can do all that on my own.”

“I didn’t come here for your approval, or your permission,” Osiris says. “I’m here to recruit”—he looks only at me—“and to tell the rest of you about my brother and sister, Apollo and Artemis, so you’re not blindsided by them if they happen to show up here. And they likely will, to finish what they started.”

“And why should we trust you?” Nora asks. “This is your family we’re talking about.”

Once again, I agree with Nora.

“She’s right,” I speak up. “Everybody knows I’ve had my differences with my brother, but I’d never work with someone against him, no matter what he’s done.”

“I never got along with my other siblings—except for Hestia—so you can say they’re as much my family as they are yours.”

“That still doesn’t give us reason to trust you,” Fredrik says.

Osiris leans forward and folds his hands atop the table.

“A long time ago,” he says, “I was the one who commissioned The Order to take my family out. Victor happened to be the assassin handed the job. My hatred for them hasn’t changed—I want them dead as much as Victor does.” He backtracks a little, shrugs, and adds, “Well, after what Artemis did to Victor’s woman, it’s possible he wants her dead a little more than I do—common ground.”

I remember now. Something about the name Osiris did feel somewhat familiar when Victor told me on the phone about this meeting.

I look across the long table at the man. “You’re Osiris Stone,” I say. “You and my brother, from what I understand, aren’t the best of friends.” My brother never told me the full story about the Stone family, and his involvement with them, but he did tell me that Osiris tied him to a chair and beat him—all the more reason not to trust this guy.

“No, we wouldn’t be friends,” Osiris admits. “I was sort of forced to…push Faust to his breaking point, I guess you can say. It wasn’t my choice; The Order made what I did to him, mandatory per my contract.”

“And what exactly did you do?” Nora asks.

“It doesn’t matter,” Osiris says. “That’s not why I’m here. I’m here because Victor asked me to be.”

I still can’t believe this shit. “You expect me to believe that my brother hired you to do a job for him?” I ask with disbelief.

Nora laughs. “Yeah, that’s like Picasso hiring you to paint him a picture”—she stands up, throws her hands in the air—“Are you fucking kidding me? This is bullshit, Niklas.”

I stand, too, and begin to walk the length of the table, ignoring Nora, but always quietly agreeing with her.

“OK, Osiris,” I say, “so Victor needs your expertise because you know the targets better than he does; does that about sum it up?”

He nods. “Something like that.” Then he stands as I get closer, and I realize how much taller than me he is.

“So you’re going to tag along with him and me on the hunt,” I assume.

“No,” Osiris says, and that provokes a few raised eyebrows in the room, including mine. “Apparently, Victor is sitting this one out, from what I gathered in my meeting with him. Of course, he didn’t tell me what he plans to do, but he isn’t leading this particular mission. He’s paying me and my sister to do it for him.”

“So what does this have to do with me?” I ask. “You said you came here to recruit.”

“Not you,” he says. “Victor told me to get with you about recruiting two of your best operatives who’ll be going with us.” He glances around the table. “I’m assuming they’re here?”

“Yeah, they are,” I say, and then point at myself. “If this is to hunt the ones who hurt Izzy, then one of them will be me.” I point at Nora. “And that blond over there.” If I’d known what this was about beforehand, I never would’ve chosen those two noisemakers!

Osiris shakes his head. “The blond I can accept,” he says. “Victor said you’d probably volunteer yourself, but he needs you here.”

Why isn’t Victor going after these people himself? If Izzy was my woman, I sure as hell wouldn’t leave this up to someone else; I’d hunt them into their graves. And why isn’t my brother here for this meeting, either? What the hell is going on?

Fredrik stands; he leans over slightly, propping the tips of all ten fingers on the table in front of him.

“It appears our leader is taking a leave of absence,” he says, practically reading my mind. “He’s leaving the most important mission of his life up to someone else; leaving his renegade brother in charge of his organization—such surprising and reckless actions can only mean one thing: Victor Faust has finally fallen. I wonder how long it’ll take him to get back up again.”

Leave it to Fredrik Gustavsson, the one person in the room most intimate with his demons, to know when another man has been defeated by his.

Fredrik leaves his chair and walks past us, heading to the exit. “I’m at your disposal, Niklas, whenever you need me for an interrogation,” he says, slowing his pace. “But please keep in mind my other duties, primarily with my current mission.”