Moral Compass

Chapter Three

His company for the night had excused herself for a trip to the lady's room. Alone, Seth stared into the bottom of his empty glass, contemplating their last couple of hours.

This marked their first night out together since Evie'd had her second kid.

It wasn't what Seth had been anticipating.

Evie didn't want to do the same things he wanted to do anymore.

She didn't want to get wasted.

Boring.

She didn't want to dance until her feet ached.

Spoilsport.

She didn't sponsor bad decisions and—for heaven's sake—she couldn't leave the clock alone.

Like she can't wait to get rid of me.

Her eagerness to return home was just insulting.

Worse, her conversation had been uncommonly dry.

Seth snorted into his empty glass.

Dry's putting it lightly.

She'd been asking about his feelings all night. Who in their right mind wanted to talk about those drab things?

How are you feeling Seth? How are you doing Seth? Are you happy Seth? Are you satisfied?

What was she expecting to hear? Honesty?

Not chuffing likely.

Actually Vetty, I want to be sick on you. You make me sick. No, I'm not doing good—you're all ditching me! Happy? Who's she? I'm so alone.

Two minutes trickled by. Three minutes. Four. Soon, he was checking the clock the way she'd been doing until her absence hit a whopping ten minutes.

Either she had some seriously bad bowel movement going on or she'd ditched him. But she wouldn't do that, right? Not to me! This wasn't a dine and dash skit. This was his best friend. His sister!

He scanned the pub, looking for any trace of a blonde.

No such luck.

A couple of demons hovered by the bar next to a woman with chestnut hair. Some other witches were scattered about the corners, with a couple of vampires making a shifty deal at the room's centre. A group of demonesses hung by the door. No Evie to be seen.

She'd better pray for bad bowel movement.

He shot up from the table, drawing more attention than he cared for, and headed over for the women's bathroom. He didn't have to check inside. The post-it note stuck to the door was answer enough. She'd left him here. Worse, she saw it as some sort of game.

This whole thing had been premeditated.

She'd left him a note.

A note! Like he was some random hoe-bag whose life she had a right to mess with. She was free to do as she wanted with everyone else—but him? They were closer than this.

Seth, my darling brother! By now, you've probably realised that I left you here.

Oh she was getting it. Evie Wicker was so getting it. He'd trash her room and buy her daughter paints. He'd flood her bathroom. Better yet, he'd sell the new-born.

I know you're angry, so just let me explain. As you know, I'm a busy woman these days, and I know you're struggling with feeling like you're on your own all of the time.

So this was what she'd been going on about the emotional nonsense for. To exploit later. Evie wanted him vulnerable before she stabbed the knife in his chest. This little note was her twisting it.