It felt surreal to be back here. The place smelled musty, but there were few signs of cobwebs or other neglect. The servants must come in now and then, something Yiran didn’t expect.
Like a ghost, he wandered from room to room, pausing now and then, staring at a specific chair, a now-empty alcove, then pensively out a windowat the tall concrete wall that fenced off the back of the compound. In one room, he crouched and reached behind the heavy drapes. He slid his hand against the wood paneling running across the bottom of the wall until his fingers hit the first etching.
They were still there.
All eleven little lines. Scratches he had made during the stretch of nights he’d been locked in here, each to mark the passage of time.
Relief and rage fought within him. It was real. It had happened. It shouldn’t have been done to him. But above the tempest, there was a bitter sadness. Why was he taken from his mother? Why did his grandfather choose to cut off his magic? And if his meridians and spirit core were screwed up, how could he have used magic against Noah? How could Rui’s spiritual energy have transferred to him?
Only one person had the answers.
Song Wei’s study was empty.
Yiran marched to his grandfather’s sleeping quarters in the eastern wing of the mansion. Most of the lights were off, and his grandfather’s master suite on the first floor was empty. But there were voices coming from the second story.
Yiran crept up the stairs and slipped into the room adjoining Ash’s bedroom. The two rooms shared a large bathroom between them, and as a kid, Yiran had always wanted to live here to be closer to his brother. But his grandfather had kept him in the western wing of the house, as if his closeness would taint the more legitimate grandson.
Holding his breath, Yiran turned the knob to the bathroom door.
It wasn’t locked.
He pulled it ajar and peeked in. The other door leading to Ash’s room was open, angled in a way that could conceal Yiran’s presence if he remained careful. He could hear the muffled voices of his grandfather and Ash.
“...need to get your wounds tended to,” his grandfather was saying gruffly.
“They’re superficial injuries. Nothing’s broken.” Ash sounded distracted.
Yiran frowned. What had happened to his brother?
“Did you get a good look at her?” his grandfather asked.
“I’ll get a sketch done and inform the others.”
There was a hiss from Ash. How hurt was he?
“...he’s off the radar, and it’s been days. The whole situation’s too dangerous now, and I’m worried—”
Ash wasn’t talking about the person who attacked him anymore; he was talking aboutYiran.
“... lied about staying over at Theo’s. None of his friends know where he is. We can spare a few Exorcists to find him, or I can hire a private investigator. I’ll be discreet. I don’t need your permission, but I want your clearance.”
Yiran clenched the doorknob. That was classic Ash. Always deferring to their grandfather, always using the old man to back himself up and avoid full responsibility if things didn’t go according to plan.
“The Guild Council must be notified,” Song Wei said, sounding weary.
“Must they?”
“He can be used as a bargaining chip against us and our goals. He’s a weak link, and he could be a wrench in our fight against the Hybrid Revenants. If they have him, we’ll need to cut—”
“Why are you talking about him like that?” Ash said, raising his voice. Yiran never would have thought he would shout at their grandfather. “He’s my brother. I’m not sacrificing his safety. I shouldn’t have told you anything. I should’ve gone ahead and—”
“Do not forget your duty, Song Lan Xi. Have you forgotten who you are and your responsibilities? Are you—”
There was a sound of sudden movement, like someone stumbling. Something crashed onto the floor.
“Yeye!” Ash exclaimed. “What’s wrong—”
Yiran didn’t wait to find out.
