We turned. Ezra—formerly chained, now very much free and awkwardly perched near the kitchen island—lifted a hand. “I can vouch for the super messed-up part.”
Cristian’s expression didn’t change, but the atmosphere in the room became tighter.
Ezra went on anyway. “They recruited me in my early twenties. I have this rare ability to read and manipulate magical frequencies, so I got fast-tracked to help their old asses with tech. At first, it was just a job—enchantment systems, bloodlinealarms, warding grids—but it didn’t take long to see what they wereactuallydoing.”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “Controlling people. Draining them. They called it maintaining balance. But really, they wanted a monopoly on power, blood, and information. I built things for them. Traps. Detectors. I made files on every supernatural with potential.” He grimaced. “Basically, I helped digitize oppression.”
Despite the tension, Lena snorted. “Wow. You made a vampire LinkedIn.”
Ezra gave her a weak smile. “Yeah. Except instead of endorsements, people got abducted.”
Cristian stayed silent, but his hands flexed at his sides, and I knew he was fighting the urge to pace.
Ezra took a breath. “I didn’t speak up for a long time. Told myself to follow orders, keep my head down, and earn my money. We all need money, you know? Then they took her.” He nodded toward Lena. “I was assigned to monitor her. And something snapped. I couldn’t keep pretending.”
He met Cristian’s gaze. “I tried to help her escape. I failed. Then you showed up.”
Lena squeezed his hand. “He really did try to help me.”
Cristian’s jaw twitched. “He’s still breathing, which means I’m choosing to assume that’s true. For now.”
Ezra squared his shoulders. “I know how they work. Their wards. Their power channels. I might be able to find a way to cut them off—to kill them without triggering the decay that would kill your brother.”
Cristian’s eyes narrowed in thought, though he seemed skeptical. “That would be useful.”
Something in him shifted then. I could see it—the barest unclenching of his shoulders.
“All right then,” I said, pulling my cardigan tighter. “Let’s all get some rest. Tomorrow, we figure out how to kill the immortal vampire mafia.”
Lena raised her glass. “To healthy coping mechanisms.”
Cristian muttered, “You people are exhausting.”
But when I caught his eye, there was the faintest curve at the corner of his mouth—an almost-smile that told me he didn’t really mind.
“All right, Ezra, follow me. Time for the grand tour of my summer anxiety palace.”
I gave Ezra the full house tour, because apparently I was now running a bed-and-breakfast for the supernaturally traumatized.
“Okay,” I said, gesturing down the hall, “that’s the linen closet—don’t open the door too fast, or you’ll get concussed by a rogue mop. The guest rooms are on this side. The office upstairs has my printer, and it sounds like a dying moose, so don’t be too alarmed. Oh, and the Wi-Fi sometimes drops if you breathe too loud.”
Ezra followed me, his hands shoved in his pockets, looking around like he expected the walls to start whispering. “This place is…” He paused, eyes tracking the antique portraits that lined the staircase. “Fucking creepy. It must be such a fun place to stay for the summer.”
“Oh, totally. It’s like living in a murder mystery, but with worse lighting.”
We stopped outside the master bedroom at the end of the hall. The heavy oak door loomed like it had opinions.
“And this,” I said, lowering my voice, “is the one room no one goes in. Like,ever. It’s off-limits.”
Ezra cocked an eyebrow. “What’s in there?”
“I assume it’s where the bodies are hidden, but I don’t want to know. Plausible deniability and all that,” I said. “Moving on.”
By the time we looped back to the kitchen, Lena was sitting at the counter, nursing a cup of tea, while Cristian leaned against the far counter. The tension in the room was so thick, it was like wading through a swamp.
Ezra laughed under his breath. “Seriously though, this house gives offhaunted energy. You’re brave for staying here alone.”
“Oh, I’m not alone,” I said lightly. “I have Cristian.”
