“It doesn’t work like that,” I say quickly. “Sure, maybe I can try with her—whoever she is—because I have the photo, but I don’t have a name. I don’t knowanythingabout her. That makes it harder.”
But then something occurs to me. “What about Banks?”
Cade frowns. “Marco’s security guy?”
“Yeah. He was locked in the basement with me. I think he tried to help me. I asked Malachi about him on the flight, and he said he didn’t think he survived.”
I can’t stop pacing, the heat from the fireplace getting uncomfortably hot. My thoughts are spiraling. Too many things are happening too fast.
“Banks knew things. He was close to Marco, and if he’s dead, he doesn’t have a reason to stay loyal anymore. He should want revenge,” I say, spinning on my heel to face them. “For fuck’s sake, Marco had him beaten and tied up. He has to want revenge.”
“Okay,” Aurora says slowly, raising a brow, “can you sit down before you wear a hole in the floor?”
I sigh and drop onto the cobblestone ledge, facing them. The flames crackle behind me, and I feel them both watching me closely.
“Banks was… He was decent to me. As decent as someone keeping you under lock and key can be. But he’s seen things. He knows things. And if I can reach him, if he’s on the other side… he could be exactly what we need.”
They both nod, like this is something I should’ve tried already. And maybe they’re right, but it’s only been a day.
“You should do it now,” Aurora urges.
I push to my feet and glance at Cade.
“Yeah, she’s right,” he says, rising with a stretch. “We need to get you back to Irina’s before they come looking. Better to do this now, then we’ll head into town.”
I nod once, my nerves flaring. “This will work better if you’re both not staring at me.”
Cade steps back and plops down next to Aurora on the couch, and I turn toward the fireplace and the cracklingflames. I exhale and close my eyes, centering myself as the familiar buzz of pressure begins to hum in my blood.
Banks didn’t cross over that long ago. It should be easier to reach him because he knew me. Respected me in a strange, guarded sort of way. I conjure his face in my mind: the stern line of his jaw, the faint scar above his right brow, and those eyes, so dark they looked black under dim light. That’s where I focus. The eyes. They always hold the strongest connection.
I feel it then—the whisper of cold brushing the back of my neck. The tiny hairs on my arms rise like a silent alarm.
I open my eyes.
He’s there. Sitting exactly where I was moments ago by the fire.
“I’d say it’s good to see you, Miss Sinclair, only I wish it were under different circumstances,” Banks says, his voice the same deep, even tone I remember, only now it echoes faintly, like it’s traveling through water.
I give him a half smile. “I don’t remember everything that happened, but I know you tried to help me. Thank you for that.”
He dips his head in acknowledgment, his form wisping faintly at the edges like smoke.
“Are you okay?” I ask before I can stop myself. It’s a rare question for me to ask a spirit. I’ve seen enough of the afterlife to know it’s not something I want details about.
His eyes narrow. “I’ll be at peace when Marco and Orin pay for what they did to me.”
Good. That frustration—that tether of unfinished vengeance—I can work with that.
He’s already beginning to fade, his silhouette thinning. I grit my teeth and force my will into the room, anchoring him with my focus.
“Banks, listen to me. I need to know what Marco was doing.The experiments. The hidden labs. Is there anything you can tell me, especially about a vial? It was filled with viscous dark fluid. What is it?”
His image steadies slightly, drawn back by my urgency.
One question at a time, Kat.
“I don’t know anything about a vial or dark fluid, but I do know of three hidden facilities he was doing work in,” Banks says, his voice low and crackling like static through the Veil.
