"No."
"We should. We definitely should."
I smile against his mouth as he leans in for another kiss, my heart picking up its pace. His lips brush mine, teasing… and then the doorbell rings.
We both groan.
Wylder sits straighter. "To be continued?"
"Definitely."
Thaddeus Vale waits on my porch, impeccably dressed as always. Today's tie shimmers with tiny constellations that shift as he moves, and I catch a flash of rainbow argyle when he adjusts his stance.
"Good, you're home." He inclines his head, his mauve-gray eyes glinting in the golden light of the ancient wall sconces of the foyer. "I apologize for the unannounced visit."
"No worries." I step back, gesturing him inside. "What brings you by?"
"I need to speak with both you and your mother, if she's available."
"Of course. Follow me."
I lead him through the house to Mom's workroom and push the door open.
Mom stands looking out the window, translucent enough that I can see the trees in the yard through her torso. Panic spears me right in the heart. "Mom?"
When she turns, she solidifies so quickly I almost convince myself I imagined it.
Almost.
Her smile doesn't quite reach her eyes. "Vale! What a lovely surprise."
Vale steps forward, executing a small bow that somehow doesn't look ridiculous. "Zoe, darling. You're looking as lovely as ever."
"Liar." She laughs, but there's affection in it. "I'm dead, Thaddeus. No need for pleasantries."
"I don't lie, Zoe, you know that. I speak the truth and nothing but the truth." He straightens, expression softening. "It's good to see you, dead or otherwise."
I file away my worry about Mom's translucence for later, focusing on Vale instead. "What did you need to talk to us about?"
"Two matters, actually." He produces a leather portfolio from seemingly nowhere—probably some kind of pocket dimension spell. "First, I have findings to report regarding the investigation into Lily and Violet's disappearance. I told you I would look into their placement, and I have."
My heart lurches. "You found something?"
"Yes and no." He unzips the portfolio, pulls out a thin file folder, and flips it open to reveal neat rows of handwriting interspersed with official-looking documents. "We've confirmed that Laurel Cromwell orchestrated their removal five years ago. She enlisted the help of a portal witch—a mercenary from the Silverwood coven named Marcus Thorne."
Mom joins us, her form as vibrant and steady as ever. "Where did they take the girls?"
"Thorne portaled them to a safe house in Quebec." Vale's finger traces a line across one document. "From there, the trail fragments. However, we have confirmed they werenotplaced into a new life, as Laurel claimed."
"That's it?" The words come out sharper than I intend. "Sorry, but we guessed that much. That doesn't get us any closer to finding them."
"Maybe not yet, but the safehouse was a waypoint. We're looking into ownership and possible connections to other supernaturals." Vale's expression darkens. "Whoever took over from Thorne knew how to cover their tracks exceptionally well, but that doesn't mean we've given up."
Mom's hands clench into fists, though the motion looks strange when her fingers barely cast shadows. "Do you know anything about Thorne? Can we get him to talk? Maybe he wasn't fully aware and will give us a name?"
"Thorne is dead, I'm afraid. Car accident three years ago." Vale's tone suggests he doesn't believe it was an accident. "I have contacts continuing the investigation, but I wanted to update you on our progress—or lack thereof."
I wrap my arms around myself, processing. Laurel didn't just make a mistake or act in what she thought were the girls' best interests. She actively conspired to take them, lied about it, and handed them off to someone we can't identify.
