I kept my face neutral as my heart squeezed. Seri hadn’t mentioned this, but it was so like her, seeing need in someone and quietly arranging help without making a fuss. I studied Addison’s thin frame, the way his shoulders curved inward as though perpetually bracing for a blow. Behind the fear in his eyes lay something harder, something determined. Still…
Training.
The very word made a serpent of memory uncurl in my chest. What Lucian had called training had been little more than systematic brutality disguised as discipline. All to break us down until the only thing left was what Lucian could use.
I caught Casimir’s eye across the kitchen. Three slow blinks passed between us. Agreement.
Never. We wouldnevertrain this boy, or anyone, the waywe’dbeen trained.
“Why do you want training?” I asked after a moment.
“Charlotte loved butterflies. Yellow ones. Monsters don’t care about yellow. Or butterflies.” Addison’s gaze dropped to the floor, then lifted again with visible effort. “Mamásaid it was a car crash. Cars don’t leave bite marks on little girls.”
Cas materialized at my left shoulder, a jar of maraschino cherries in one hand. His silence weighed more than any interrogation.
“I want to be able to protect people. From monsters. Like the ones that killed Charlotte. Like the one that tried to kill Lady Seri.” Addison’s words tumbled out faster now, as though he feared losing momentum. “Before, I couldn’t— I couldn’tdoanything. But I don’t want to be helpless again. Ever.”
I exchanged a quick glance with Cas, reading his slight nod of approval. This wasn’t just a boy’s fantasy of being a hero. This was survival, grief, purpose. Things I understood all too well.
“Monday afternoon,” I told him, keeping my voice steady. “Meet us in the gym. We’ll begin with the basics. It won’t be easy.”
“I don’t need easy.” Something flashed in the kid’s eyes that made him look older than fourteen. “Thank you.”
Mrs. Wentzel cleared her throat sharply.
“Addison, the herbs need picking before they wilt in this heat. Take the small shears, not the kitchen scissors.”
“Si,abuela.” He scurried from the kitchen, relief palpable.
We waited until the back door closed behind him, watching through the window as he stopped to pat Brummy, who lifted his head to give the boy a friendly snuffle before returning to his crayfish pincer.
The moment Addison was out of earshot, Mrs. Wentzel turned to us, her flour-dusted hands planted firmly on her hips. Her pleasant grandmotherly demeanor evaporated, replaced by something harder, sharper.
“I became suspicious when Jimena stopped bringing the children for visits after my son died. When I would call, Addison was different. Quiet. Charlotte used to be a little chatterbox, but she got quiet, too.”
The serpent in my chest coiled tighter as she went on.
“Addison has since told me that Jimena brought home all manner of creatures to solve her rent problem. Called them men, but they weren’t. At least, not entirely. Not where it counted.” She looked toward the door where Addison had exited. “The last one… I only met him once, at Charlotte’s funeral, but I could tell he wasn’t human. He had a taste for fear. For pain. He seemed to feed on it.”
“A supernatural predator? Do you know what kind?” Cas’ face remained unchanged, but his eyes flickered with rage that matched my own.
“No, but he was wrong. Didn’t blink right. Shadow didn’t match the light. Addison told me he felt like his mind was being scraped clean and that a feeling of dread hung over everything.”
“A seeping dread,” I snarled, and Cas nodded in agreement.
A PEP—parasitic emotional predator—seeping dreads mimicked human behavior by wearing borrowed personalities like clothes. Thrived in close quarters, infiltrating families under the guise of trust, often as a charming romantic partner. Isolated the target adult and preyed on the children, slowly unraveling its victims from inside their own minds.
“Charlotte was only seven. I was too late to save her.” Mrs. Wentzel’s voice didn’t waver, but something in her eyes fractured, and my hands curled into fists. “I made a deal with your father. I’d be chef again at Evermere if he got Addison out of there and legally transferred his custody to me.”
“Father doesn’t usually involve himself in human affairs.” Cas’ eyebrow lifted slightly.
“He owed me something.” Mrs. Wentzel smiled thinly. “And he enjoys my roast duck.”
There was more to that story,muchmore, but neither Cas nor I pressed. Let her keep her secrets.
“Where are Jimena and her ‘poor choice’ now?” I asked with deceptive calm.
“King Lucian himself took Prince Sebastian with him to fetch Addison.” Mrs. Wentzel’s eyes went cold as her lips pressed into a thin line. “The king killed Jimena on the spot. The prince handled the monster.”
