Three dots appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again, the universal sign of someone reconsidering what they were about to say.
Then:Come to reception. Now.
Ava went cold. She gathered the most important files, shoved them into her bag, and went.
The building was dark except for emergency lighting and the dim glow of tasteful sconces.
Cassandra waited by the elevator bank, silver hair catching what little light there was. She’d changed from her usual corporate elegance into a simple gray woolen dress that looked older than Ava’s grandmother. Something about it made her seem less like a receptionist and more like what she actually was: something ancient, wearing a modern mask.
“You need answers,” she said without preamble. “The kind that aren’t in any archive you have access to here.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I know someone.” Cassandra’s amber eyes held hers with unusual intensity. “I’ve been watching you work yourself to death for days, going through the same documents over and over. Derek’s found the structure, but not the source. Victor’s bound by partnership agreements. And you’re running out of time.”
“So what’s the alternative?”
“Someone who trades in knowledge. Things that Heaven wants buried and Hell wants forgotten.” She glanced down the empty corridor, checking for listeners. “His name is Samael.”
“A demon?”
“Worse. An exile.” She lowered her voice further. “He was an angel before the Fall. Before even Lucifer’s rebellion. He saw what was coming and refused to choose a side: wouldn’t fight forHeaven, wouldn’t join the rebellion. The Almighty cast him out for his neutrality. Hell won’t touch him because he won’t bend the knee to any Duke or Prince.”
“So where does he live?”
“In the spaces between. The In-Between, it’s called. Not Heaven, not Hell, not Earth. A place that exists in the cracks.” Cassandra pulled something from her pocket: a key made of pale crystal that seemed to glow faintly in the dim light. “He hoards secrets there. Collects them. And he knows things about demonic contracts that even the oldest partners have forgotten.”
“And you know how to find him?”
“I know how to open the door.” She held the key up, letting it catch the light. “We have history, Samael and I. He owes me nothing, but he’ll see me. And anyone I vouch for.”
“Why are you offering this?”
Cassandra was quiet for a moment. When she spoke, her voice was different: older, wearier.
“Because Victor loves you. And I’ve watched him be alone for a very long time.” She met Ava’s eyes. “But you need to understand: Samael doesn’t take payment in money or favors. What you learn from him, you pay for with pieces of yourself.”
“What kind of pieces?”
“Memories. The ones that matter most.” Her expression was grave. “He’ll choose something precious. Something you can’t get back. And once it’s gone, it’s gone. You won’t even remember losing it. You’ll just have a gap where something beautiful used to be.”
Ava thought about thirteen days. About her mother’s panicked voice on the phone. About her father trying to read legal documents in a language he barely understood.
“I need to know who I’m really fighting,” she said. “How deep this goes. Whether there’s any way out that doesn’t end with my family destroyed.”
Cassandra studied her for a long moment. Whatever she saw in Ava’s face seemed to satisfy her.
“Victor will be furious.”
“He isn’t here. And he’s not my boss anymore.”
That pulled a small, sad smile from Cassandra. “No. He isn’t. Come on.”
She led Ava to a service closet at the end of the hall, the kind of anonymous door you’d walk past a thousand times without noticing.
Inside, where there should have been mops and cleaning supplies and industrial-sized bottles of floor cleaner, the back wall was bare brick. Someone had drawn a doorway on it in white chalk, the lines glowing faintly.
“Hold still.” Cassandra pressed the crystal key against Ava’s forehead. It was cold enough to burn, and Ava gasped at the contact. “This marks you as my guest. Without it, the In-Between will reject you. Violently.”
