Kade approached, leaning over me, the warmth of his body brushing close as he scanned the pages. "Mirev's veinborn—a natural magic wielder, and a powerful one at that. No leystones needed for him." His voice was steady, but there was something clipped about it. "He used to be respected. Taught adjunct at U of E, worked on early leystone tech."
"Let me guess. Straight-laced academic type? Tweed suit, shiny shoes, drinks whiskey from a fancy glass?"
Kade's lips twitched, but the amusement was fleeting. "Something like that." Then his tone darkened. "But a couple of years ago, something changed. He stopped publishing. Stopped teaching. Just disappeared."
I watched his jaw tighten, his fingers curling slightly, like they were itching to clench into fists. "And?"
"And the people around him started disappearing too." His voice was low, rough around the edges. Like it hurt to say the words.
I stilled, reading between the lines. "He took someone from you, didn't he?"
Kade's throat bobbed. He exhaled sharply through his nose. "A kid I looked out for," he admitted. "Old enough to get in trouble, not old enough to know better." That was all he gave me. No name, no explanation. But I heard everything I needed in the way his voice turned hollow, the way he wouldn't meet my eyes.
Something twisted in my chest. No wonder his whole demeanor had shifted the moment Mirev's name came up. This wasn't just about swiping something shiny or stirring up trouble for the hell of it—Kade came here for answers. For closure.
I hesitated, then reached out, resting a hand on his arm. His muscles tensed beneath my touch, but then—slowly—he let out a breath, shoulders loosening just enough to tell me he wasn't pulling away.
It was a fragile moment, the kind of thing you pretend never happened after the fact. But right now? Right now, I wasn't about to let him sit in this alone.
"And these people that disappear—your friend—you think Mirev's using them in these experiments?" I asked.
Kade nodded. "Word is, he's been eating leystones, trying to harness whatever extra power he can."
I pulled back, blinking. "Eating?" That was new one.
He gave a grim nod.
I forced my gaze back down to the notes, pushing aside the way his presence still lingered against my skin. Illegal experiments. A powerful mage losing control. Missing people who might never come back. This wasn't just bad—this was a violation of everything right and good.
"Why?" I muttered. "What does he get out of it?"
Kade ran a hand through his hair, and for the first time since I met him, he looked… tired. "Knowledge, maybe? Money? I'm not sure. Some say he's trying to live forever. Others think it's something deeper. Either way, it's driving him mad. His powers are out of control, twisting his mind and body."
I dragged a hand down my face. "This city is one bad decision away from a full-blown apocalypse, I swear to gods."
Kade let out a quiet huff—something close to amusement but too bitter to be real.
"We'll find out what happened to your friend," I said gently, withdrawing my hand to hit a button on my wrist-mounted comm unit. The screen popped out into a handheld and I snapped a few pictures. "I'll let Hale know Mirev is more than a washed-up loser. We'll get the whole department on it."
"Hale?"
"My boss. Chief Inspector of Vanguard."
Kade scoffed. "If your boss thinks Mirev the Revenant is a washed-up loser, he's either an idiot or covering something up."
I snorted, firing the pictures off to Isla. "Hale would never cover something up."
Kade cast me a sidelong look. "Are you sure?"
There was something in his expression that made me hesitate—something almost defeated, like no matter what he said, I'd still be missing the bigger picture.
I swallowed. Perhaps there was something off about this case. Why had it been a throwaway? How had something this big gotten mixed up at the bottom of the pile?
Hale wasn't a careless man, and he certainly wasn't an idiot. But had had seemed…distracted lately. A onetime mistake, then. Or perhaps a miscommunication.
"Hale would never cover something up." I reiterated, snapping the comm unit back in place. "First of all, because that's illegal, and second, because it's wrong."
Kade pressed his lips together, like he wanted to say more, but for once, he didn't argue. "If you say so," he sighed, stepping away from the bookshelves and ambling toward the living room. "Why are you so hellbent on following the rules, anyway?"
An old hurt flickered in my chest. "Because following the rules keeps you alive." The words came out rougher than I meant. Bitter.
Kade slowed. His gaze flicked toward me, studying—like he knew he'd just stumbled onto something raw. His brow arched, looking for further explanation. But until he was ready to share too, I wasn't spilling a thing.
After a long heartbeat of silence, he got the message. He cleared his throat, pulling a lazy smile to his lips—a peace offering. "And here I thought I was the dramatic one. Turns out you're head of the club."
My mouth quirked up. "Not dramatic, just ethically superior."
Kade let out an exaggerated gasp. "The audacity."
"Perhaps I'll send you a membership application," I mused. "It comes with a badge—and a moral compass."
He snorted. "Got one already, thanks. Spins in circles. Occasionally catches fire."
"That checks out."
Kade opened his mouth for a retort, but something caught his eye. His words died as his brows bunched.
"What is it? What's wrong?"
He ignored me, drifting past the sofa toward the fireplace. His movements slowed, careful, like he wasn't entirely in control of them. My stomach tightened.
I followed his gaze to the mantle—where a small lump of coal sat, black and rough, the size of a quail egg.
I crossed my arms. "Mirev get put on Saint Nick's naughty list? No surprise there."
Kade leaned in, eyes locked on the thing like a crack in the world had just split open, and he was the only one who noticed.
And then—the damn rock shimmered. A slow, molten glow pulsed beneath its surface, flickering like trapped firelight. A low hum buzzed through the room.
I let out a nervous laugh. "Okay, so… not coal."
Not a leystone either—those were bright, polished gems, gleaming in blues, reds, and greens. This was dull, rough, pitted like volcanic rock.
Maybe some kind of fae lantern seed? I'd seen those before—little stones that trapped fireflies or wisp-light, used as flickering charms at festivals. Or maybe a mimic-stone, the kind that changed color when you held it, like one of those enchanted mood rings the carnival scam artists sold.
But Kade wasn't amused. He was still staring, transfixed.
He lifted a hand, reaching for it.
My pulse kicked up. "I thought you said not to touch anyth—"
A high-pitched alarm screamed to life as he picked it up, so loud and shrill it felt like my skull was cracking open. The room itself seemed to wake up, furious and alive, warning anyone in earshot that trespassers were now very much not welcome.
"Great. Even when you make the damn rules, you still can't follow them," I hissed, yanking my phaser from its holster. My fingers curled around the familiar metal, grip tight.
"It's called strategic flexibility," Kade shot back, finally snapping out of that damn stupor. He pocketed the stone, scanning the cavern warily and wide-eyed.
I would've argued—because of course he thought that—but the teeth-rattling siren made it impossible to think, let alone snark. Instead, I grabbed his arm and tugged him toward the door. "Let's get out of here—oof."
The ground lurched violently, knocking us both off our feet. My breath hitched. The walls trembled, dust raining down like the cave itself was about to collapse. I glanced up, bracing for falling debris—and saw them.
The gargoyles.
Cracks spider-webbed across their stone bodies as they moved, limbs shifting and flexing with an awful, groaning scrape. Their eyes flickered open, burning with an eerie, unnatural light. One uncurled its wings, sending out a gust of air so strong my hair whipped into my face. Then, with a thunderous boom, it dropped from its perch.
I swallowed hard. "Well, shit. We're definitely dead now."
Kade followed my gaze, amber eyes widening. "Move!" he barked, shoving me toward the exit. He drew his sword with a sharp whine, its black flames sputtering to life.
I sprinted forward just as the first gargoyle lunged. My phaser lit up the cavern, shots whizzing through the air and slamming into the beast—head, chest, shoulder. Chunks of stone shattered, dust pluming into the air.
But the gargoyle barely staggered.
The thing growled. A deep, guttural sound that made my pulse skyrocket. Then two more landed on either side of it in perfect synchrony—like they'd been rehearsing for centuries—blocking our path to the door.
I shot Kade a look. "Plan B?"
"Stay close." His voice was firm, steady, even as he shoved me behind him and deflected a series of blows from the closest gargoyle with a grunt. His sword carved through its stone arm with a screech of metal. Sparks flew, black flames hissed. Another slash—clean, brutal—and the beast's head tumbled free, the body crumbling into rubble.
But there was no time for relief as the other two stepped up, pushing us back with a violent roar, followed by the resounding rumble of even more beasts slamming to the ground.
A shrill cry split the air as the nearest one bared jagged teeth. Kade didn't hesitate. He lunged, sword gleaming, and the cavern erupted into chaos.
I darted forward, firing off another round of shots, rolling as a gargoyle to my left flared its wings, sending a gust of air past me that would have knocked me off my feet.
Kade and I fought as one, moving in sync as we worked to carve a path forward. Parry—strike—blast—step. Parry—strike—blast—step.
But they were strong, ruthless, and we were outnumbered. For every step we gained, they won back two, surrounding us and cutting off our escape route.
My chest burned, breath coming fast as they pushed us between the library shelves. "We need a plan!" I gritted out, firing another shot as a stone claw swiped inches from my face.
"No kidding!" Kade ducked as a wing slammed into the shelves above him, sending dust, papers, and trinkets flying in every direction.
We were running out of space.
My heart pounded against my ribs as I scrambled up the raised dais at the library's center. I glanced around—seven towering bookshelves ringed the space, mere feet between each to escape through. And the gargoyles? They were closing in from all sides, locking into place between the shelves.
Forming a wall.
"Kade," I breathed. "We're trapped."
He already knew. He backed up, sword raised, retreating toward me with nimble steps. His shoulder pressed into mine, solid and grounding.
We were all the other had.
"We make our stand here," he said over his shoulder, low and sure. "You cover my six, I'll cover yours."
I nodded, gripping my phaser tighter. "Agreed."
We turned in slow circles atop the dais, back-to-back, eyes locked on the enemy.
But the gargoyles had… stopped.
They froze, forming an impenetrable barricade. No movement. No attack. Just statues—waiting.
Dread curled in my stomach. "What's going on?"
Kade's voice was taut. "I don't know, but I don't like it."
His presence, his voice—it steadied me more than I wanted to admit. I didn't trust Kade, not really, but in this moment, he was here. His back was against mine, ready to go down swinging. And that was enough.
Then we heard it.
A laugh.
Distant at first, slithering through the cavern's vastness. It grew louder, sharp and sick with amusement. My blood ran cold.
Kade stiffened. "Mirev." A curse. A warning.
He reached back—fingers grazing mine.
I didn't hesitate. I laced our fingers together, gripping tight.
"Kade, I—"
"Lacey, if we—"
CRACK.
The floor beneath us gave way.
A screech of stone on stone, a sickening lurch as the dais split in two—and then we were free falling into a blackness so vast, so absolute, it swallowed us whole.
I didn't even have time to scream.
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