"Someone's been monitoring these tunnels," Phi observed as she began photographing everything. "And they've had time to install a comprehensive surveillance network."
"Look at this." Dea lifted a folder that was left carelessly on a makeshift table. We all scurried over to her. It contained detailed floor plans of Guardian properties, photographs of family members, and schedules that tracked daily routines.
"They know everywhere everyone goes, when they go there, and who they talk to," Kota growled.
There were photos of Claude Moreau, the missing Beauregard and Ashford families, and dozens of others I didn't recognize. Each photo was labeled with names, abilities, and what looked like target priorities. "This is a kill list," I realized with growing horror.
Dre blew out a breath. "That's not surprising. We know they've been systematically cataloging every Guardian descendant in the city."
"There's a signature on these reports." Phi pointed to initials in the corner of each document. "M.D. Marcus Drake?"
"Has to be," I said, anger burning in my chest like acid. "The bastard's been using his descendants as researchers to map Guardian bloodlines and then feeding targeting information to the Collector's harvesters."
Thomas's ancestral spirits’ translucent forms flickered with agitation. I hadn’t realized they’d followed us into the tunnels before they began their little light show. "The betrayer has been here," the scarred man confirmed. "His corruption stains these sacred passages."
“No shit,” Kota snorted, making Dea glare at her.
"When was he last here?" Dea asked with a smile.
"Recently," the woman who had spoken above ground said after a moment. "Within the last day or two. And he wasn't alone. There were others with him."
"I bet they were harvesters," I concluded. "If this goes as many places as you say, I bet he's been using the tunnel network to coordinate attacks."
"I hate to break up this conversation, but he knows we're here," Kota said grimly. "This equipment is still active. If it's transmitting real-time surveillance..."
"We need to move," I blurted, cutting her off as I backed away from the surveillance station. "Now. This whole thing could be a trap."
As if summoned by my words, the electronic equipment began sparking and smoking as supernatural energy interfered with the circuits. I hoped that was the ghosts surrounding us. A bone-chilling howl echoed in the distance. It didn’t sound like the harvesters. What else did Michel have at his disposal?
"Thomas!" the spirit woman called urgently. "Lead them to safety! More creatures are coming!"
"This way!" Thomas shouted as he broke into a run toward a side passage. The dim lighting had hidden it until we were turning down it. "There’s an emergency exit to the surface!"
I cast a protective shield around us as we ran through twisting corridors. My heart hammered harder in my chest as the sounds of pursuit echoed behind us. Whatever was hunting us in these tunnels was gaining ground fast. I had the distinct feeling that our luck was about to run out.
The emergency exit was a narrow spiral staircase that led up to a concealed entrance behind a tomb. We emerged into daylight, gasping and disoriented. Thomas slammed the hidden door behind us and triggered magical locks. "That won't hold them for long," he warned with sweat beading on his forehead from our flight. "They’re taking over the tunnel network. Soon nowhere will be safe."
"Then we make our own safety," I said, pulling out my phone to call Lucas and Noah. "It's time to gather everyone at Willowberry. We need a plan to end this."
CHAPTER 14
DANIELLE
The drive back to Willowberry felt like racing against a ticking time bomb. One we couldn't see but could hear counting down in our heads. My hands were shaking as I spread what we'd collected across the dining room table. There were photographs, business cards, surveillance reports, and witness statements. They painted a picture more disturbing than anything I'd dealt with in the NICU. At least when babies crashed, you knew what you were fighting. This felt like treating a patient whose symptoms kept changing faster than you could adapt.
"Okay," I said, channeling every ounce of energy as everyone gathered around the table. "We need to connect these dots before someone else disappears."
Thomas had insisted on coming with us from the cemetery. Margaret and Sarah sat near the windows while Cyran’s other relatives milled around outside. Kaitlyn and Kaveh were talking to Cyran across the hall. Hopefully, they would join us soon.
Phi pulled out her tablet and began creating what looked like a murder board. "Let's start with what we know for certain. Professor Martin LeClair visited multiple sites, asking questions about Guardian families and their traditions."
"No doubt he's really Marcus Drake," Kota said, holding up one of Thomas's sketches. "Look at the facial features in this drawing of Michel Drake—the original traitor from 1853. Now compare them to the witness descriptions of our fake professor."
I'd had similar suspicions, and no doubt all of my sisters did too. The resemblance was becoming clear once you knew what to look for. "How can we prove Professor LeClair is either Michel Drake or his descendant?" I asked.
"I can prove it," Phi interjected, her fingers flying across her tablet screen. "The internet is a magical tool."
She pulled up a series of images. They were from social media profiles, university faculty photos, and even LinkedIn accounts. They all showed the same man using different names and credentials across multiple states.
