“Focus, tech wiz.” I dragged a stool next to him. “You ever consider outsourcing, bro? Thatnino, Addison, got time on his hands. He could—”
“Absolutely not.” Casimir’s boot connected with my stool leg. “Kitchen boy stays far away from—”
“He’s fourteen, not a suicide bomber,” I snorted, and Koa froze mid-keystroke.
“Actually, he could—”
“No.”
Ko and I exchanged a look. We’d fight that battle later.
The flat screen flickered as Koa queued up footage. I drummed fingers against my thigh—three beats, pause, two beats—the rhythm syncopating with Casimir’s unsteady pacing on my other side.
“Need a hamster wheel for that nervous energy, Golden Boy?”
Cas paused mid-stride, blond ponytail swinging like a pendulum, his breathing uneven. He dropped his head back, perspiration trickling down his face like tears. And maybe real tears. Even with lightning in your veins, purification was never fun.
“You gonna make it through a footage review, grandpa?” I dragged a stool over and shoved him into it. “Or should I fetch the fainting couch?”
His middle finger spoke volumes.
A monitor froze on Amabel Harrow. The witch-bitch dipped her hand into her pocket, withdrawing a silver pendant shaped like a talon.
“Freeze it.” I leaned close to the screen. “Enlarge on the pendant.”
The image rippled. The talon’s surface resolved into tiny, vicious runes.
“Audio.” My knuckles cracked. “Now.”
“Working.” Koa’s ear cuff flashed as he synced with the system. “Spy eyes prioritize stealth and visual over sound quality, but—”
The speakers spat static. Then Amabel’s voice, tinny but triumphant.
“—little cinderwhore won’t know what struck her.”
“Perfect.” Eluned’s laughter skittered through the room like broken glass. “Let the dhampirs chew on The Withering Veil’s leftovers while we—”
“Witheringwhat?” I scowled when the audio fuzzed out.
“Never heard of it,” Ko admitted. “Have to look that one up.”
“Whatever it does, they meant it for Seri.” Face bloodless, Cas slumped to the side, nearly falling out of his chair.
“You good, Cas?” Ko asked as I grabbed the front of his shirt and yanked him upright again. “What do you need?”
“WhatdoI need?” He squinted at the ceiling, words slurring together. “A peppermint. No, popcorn. No, peppermint-flavored popcorn. And possibly, no,definitelysynchronized flamingos.”
“Flamingos.” Koa’s typing stuttered. “Weare never like this after a purification. Why is he?”
“Why is he what? Adorably chatty?” I glanced between my brothers, one vibrating with grim focus, the other looking two breaths from a coma. “Hold that thought. Popcorn sounds perfect. Yeah, I’m instituting mandatory snackage for surveillance duty.”
It took me less than five minutes to sprint to the kitchen, snag a tin of three popcorn flavors and three beers, and sprint back. I palmed open the security room door to find disaster.
Casimir had commandeered Koa’s chair, spinning slowly clockwise, his usually perfect posture gone to hell, a dopey smile playing at the corners of his mouth. His first ever purification had left our unflappable brother decidedlyflapped.
“—like carousel horses made of fire,” he was saying, index finger tracing a spiral in the air. “But sadder. With tiny hats.Tiny hats, Koa!”
“Zane Dorian Cimmerian!” Koa massaged his temple. “What did you put in that elixir?”
