“Show yourself,” I snarl and bare my fangs, a clear warning to whoever had the unmitigated gall to break into my fucking place.
“Unfortunately, that’s quite impossible,” they say, a hint of melancholy joining the buzz of the words. “Speaking to you at all is quite difficult.”
“No bullshit,” I hiss. “Tell me who and what you are, or my next move will be finding a way to kill you. Painfully.”
“Who I am: unimportant. What I am, given your research, is far more interesting. But the question you should be asking is where I live. I’ll give you a hint: I’m not from around here, I can assure you of that.”
Given your research.Any hope that this creature didn’t see what I was working on dries up. A document on demonic abilities, focused on the three types known to be part of the enclave? That alone gives this stranger enough rope to hang me. I can’t let them leave until I return the favor. Mutually assured destruction is the best I can hope for.
I raise one eyebrow and do my best to appear less hostile. “Where do you live?”
They laugh. “That’s the spirit; I knew you’d come around. There wouldn’t be such a thick file on you at the enclave if you weren’t clever, Alistair Ashbourne.”
That gets my attention, so I go out on a limb and guess. “You live at the compound?”
“Indeed,” they hiss. “Quite clever, as I suspected.”
I run through what I know about the supernaturals in residence within the compound walls. Shifters, demons, and most recently, fae. Shifters don’t have magic like this. From what I know of fae, some have powerful glamour abilities, but they’re not immaterial when they use them. A fae would need to break down the door to get in, invisible or not.
That leaves only one option.
“You’re a demon, aren’t you?”
“Precisely,” they say. “I have valuable information for you about a development within the Casanell family, something I expect you to find most interesting given young Ciprian’s interest in your lover...”
They leave the statement hanging. I stiffen. Are they threatening Celine? Ciprian swore he would keep our secrets, but I knew better than to believe him. And his father has spies everywhere. I need to play this carefully.
My back is against the wall.
“You’re threatening me,” I say stiffly. “Which isn’t a good cornerstone for a trusting working relationship.”
“Never. I’m simply offering you leverage,” they say. “As a show of good faith, I’ll tell you something about myself. I have no physical form and rely entirely on the magic of other demons to power my own. Even now, I’m beginning to fade. Bring Ciprian Casanell here—I’m quite incapable of harming him—and I’ll charge my magic, prove I’m telling the truth, then we can discuss my other information.”
Bring Ciprian here? I’d rather remove my own fangs with rusty pliers than invite that duplicitous asshole back into my home. He won’t buy it either. Ciprian is a liar, but he’s also perceptive.
I frown, wishing I had more to go on than the tonal shifts of a disembodied voice.
If this is a trap, why didn’t the enclave simply knock the doordown and let the sun do its dirty work? Sending an invisible demon to do the job is convoluted.
My hands fist at my sides. “I can’t?—”
“Please,” they whisper. “I’ve much to tell you, but you must hurry.”
They sound scared. Are they dying? What did they risk by breaking into my home? More importantly, if I don’t bring Ciprian here, how will I get them to leave? My ridiculously expensive wards were useless in keeping them out, and the offer of leverage is tempting.
If I can protect Celine from the enclave, will she forgive me?
There are too many questions by far, and I’m aching to answer them all.
Your curiosity is a curse.Mum’s words echo through my mind, sounding as much like a prophecy of doom in my memory today as they did when she said them to me growing up.
But curiosity is exhilarating to me. Terrifying too—like walking along a cliff in fog so thick you can taste it on your tongue. The uncertainty, not knowing where your foot will fall next, means there’s always another secret to uncover.
“Bollocks,” I mutter, scanning my living room once more for the source of the voice.
There’s nothing, and the sense of being watched has faded too.
Are they dying? Or in some sort of stasis?I’ve never been able to resist a mystery. It’s why I chose to be turned against Mum’s wishes. She sees my decision to become like her as a betrayal, but I spent eighteen years of my life straddling the line—not human enough to be satisfied with the ordinary, and not supernatural enough to fit anywhere else.
