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“Why are you the second person to say that?” My question is paired with a sidelong glance.

“Who else would have said that to you?” Curiosity riddles his tone. His heavy footsteps clomp around the room.

In the stack of papers before me is a ripped photograph stuck between clumps of old, molded pieces.

“Daisy…” I reply, separating the photograph and paper.

Christian scoffs. “How long have you been seeing Daisy?”

“Why do you sound so condescending?” When I turn to face him, he’s tinkering around with old medical supplies on the steel trolley.

“Do you know who she is?” His face crinkles as he opens an old jar and sticks his nose in it.

“She lives here,” I reply, definitively.

Paying no more attention to him, I give the photo another look. The stature of the man seems so familiar. Christian begins to speak but I put a hand up to stop him as the photo in my hand looks exactly like a man—a man we both know—on his wedding day. But where is the other half?

“Is this who I think it is?” I shove the torn image to him.

Christian’s face is scrunched with feigned offense when I meet his gaze. But he takes the photograph. “Dr. Kieran Lazarus. Beholden in film and flame,” he says, grimly.

“This is a wedding picture…” I trail off. I wonder what Kieran’s wife had looked like. It’s nearly impossible to tell with all the secrecy around her death with the missing portraits and wiped household memories. Her death must have been suspicious or…something more sinister.

I open my mouth to offer my conjectures. But it’s Christian’s turn to hold a hand up to me. He raises a finger to his lips, shushing me.

“What is it?” I ask, moving closer to him.

“There are footsteps coming up the stairs. Quick—” Christian pulls me to his chest.

“Footsteps? You mean a person?” My cheeky question is stolen by his quick steps as he sweeps me off my feet, stealthily opens a door and shoves our bodies inside what appears to be a tight closet.

I hadn’t noticed this small storage closet the last time I was here. It’s like the house shifts, conceals, and reveals whenever it wants to.

Christian places me down gently, my back to his front. There’s a small crack in the door likely stripped by the previous fire. It’s dark and smells of soot and mildew. He holds me steady by the waist. How easily I went from Sheriff Valen to Christian.

I don’t need steadying because the wall of muscle that stands at my back renders me incapable of paying attention to the silhouette who’d soundlessly flourished into the room and is now crouching to the floor and reaching into a hidden compartment.

Christian rests his chin on my shoulder, peering through the slats. Did he know someone would be here tonight? The figure reaches into the floor and drags out an object that shimmers red in the pale gray darkness. It’s attached to chains, pulses with every movement and looks heavy.

There’s a sharp exhale on my shoulder followed by the tightening of Christian’s grip. Something tells me Christian is about to reveal our position and I reach for his hand and squeeze. I press myself against him. I want to see what this person does with this object and Christian could throw us impulsively into harm’s way. He seems to think about this and steps backward.

“Keep them contained while I’m away.” Kieran’s voice commands the quiet space. But to who he’s speaking to I can’t tell from the tiny split in the door.

A shuffle of feet can be heard, coupled with a series of clicks like the mangled mandible belonging to the creature from last night. Dread radiates around us as we both wait for Kieran to leave. Was this a part of his supposed business trip? Silence ensues. Then, he sweeps an easy glance around the room before leaving. The shuffle of heavy feet disappears without trailing down the stairs after him. Whatever had been there appears to have dissipated into nothingness.

I move to open the door, but Christian stops me. We remain in the closet for several minutes until we’re sure the room is clear.

“I should have killed him when I had the chance,” Christian says after a while.

“Didn’t you want to unearth his secrets? Or…are you using me for something I don’t know about?” Stepping back, I quirk a brow at him. But my breath falters as I realize the space between us is tight, merely inches. We’re chest to chest and his body is warmth—tangible, like a thick blanket you can curl into during a rainy day.

“You think I’m using you.” Christian doesn’t recoil from my accusations. A look of recognition dawns on his features.

I wasn’t accusing him but it isn’t a bad thing to consider.

He shuffles closer.

“I think everyone is,” I reply, the heat in my voice faltering at the edges. “You and Kieran especially⁠—”