Me.
It wanted me.
The shadow thing, Cassidy, and this changeling all wanted me.
35
What do a shadow god,a changeling, and an ex-cop gone cult leader have in common? Me.
And while that sounded like the setup to a bad bar joke, I was beginning to suspect it was the universe’s idea of a targeted marketing campaign.You’ve been selected as the preferred victim of the season!
My prize? A trashed apartment, a terrified little brother, and a cat that was probably going to need therapy.
We hung out in Nikki’s apartment, exiled from the carnage, waiting for the SED to officially take over. The air hummed with residual energy, and the manager’s shrieking had finally faded, replaced by an eerie quiet. Nikki offered for us to stay for the night, but I hated the idea of bringing danger to her door. Everyone was after me, which meant anyone around me.
I sighed and leaned into Angel’s embrace as we waited to be officially dismissed, and to get that release, we needed the SED to arrive. Would it be Hardy again? Or even Hanna? The Twin Cities might be lousy with cops, but the SED was terribly understaffed, and my magnetism for supernatural trouble seemed to be adding to their caseload.
The elevator’s cheerfuldingwas a jarring interruption. The doors slid open to reveal the SED’s night crew; vampires. Of course, the agency’s after-hours crew would look like a convention of creatures who specifically enjoyed snacks like me. How did I know they were vampires? I suspect my vision changed whether to black- or red-eyed, I wasn’t sure, but I could tell they were like Victor. Though our grumpy teammate wasn’t among the crew.
They moved with a silent, predatory grace that made the hair on my arms stand up. The team was a study in shadows and sharp angles—their pallor stark under the fluorescent lights—and a few individuals with the subtle, telltale markers of half-demons. I didn’t recognize a single one of them. Their collective gaze swept over the scene, cool and assessing, barely lingering on the human cops before landing on Angel and me with an air of mild inconvenience.
The lead vampire, a woman with eyes the color of ice and dark hair pulled into a severe bun, approached.
“Agents,” she said, her voice as cool and dry as a tomb.
“Agent Mallory,” Angel greeted her.
Mallory’s gaze flickered between us, utterly impersonal and unimpressed. “The night crew has the scene. One of my analysts will take your preliminary statements. Once that’s complete, you are to vacate the premises with your civilian dependents.” She didn’t wait for a reply, simply turning to direct her team.
Within minutes, a lanky half-demon with a tablet in hand approached us with a handful of questions, delivered in a monotone. We gave our statements—a clipped, professional summary that carefully omitted details like the scar on the Veil. The moment the half-demon tapped his final note and walked away; the unspoken dismissal was absolute. The message was clear. We were the problem that had drawn the threat, not the solution that would end it.
It was a little surprise when one of the vampires delivered my work bag to me with the instructions that Sergeant Hanna required its use to write an official report. I took it, annoyed to be dismissed and unable to return to my apartment even for clothes. But Angel swept me, Ivan, and Peanut Butter up and took us to his apartment. We could have returned to the place Xavier provided, but Ivan clung to me. That I’d become his home did something crazy to my heart, expanding it at least three sizes.
I swallowed back my snort at my unspoken joke and settled into my little brother’s side as we dozed in the car, roused only when Angel shuffled us all inside and up to bed. The last thing I remembered was the weight of the comforter and the solid, warm presence of Angel at my back, a fortress against the world.
I woke to the sound of a refrigerator door closing and the crinkle of a grocery bag. Sunlight, real and unforgiving, streamed through Angel’s windows. For a single, disorienting moment, everything was peaceful. The scent of Angel surrounding me, a soft pillow under my head, and then it all crashed back in. The ritual murders, the suffocating magic, and I had closed a Veil tear, all leading to my apartment being vandalized and a target on my back in a dozen different ways.
I was in Angel’s bed. Ivan was a curled-up ball on the small love seat in the corner, still deeply asleep, the emotional exhaustion having finally claimed him. A blur of orange fur—Peanut Butter—chased a flicker of gray smoke—Nox—across the floor, the fae dragon apparently feeling secure enough in this space to play with his new best friend.
Angel moved quietly through the small kitchen, putting away groceries. He glanced in my direction and raised a brow as he held up a carton of eggs. Unspoken,did I want breakfast?
Could I eat? Probably. And the scent of coffee flavored the studio; grounding.
I shuffled out of bed, surprised to find myself in pajamas, though they were a little on the large size, bottoms rolled up a few times and the top hitting my midthigh, but Angel handed over a cup of coffee before expecting actual conversation. Smart man.
“Wade dropped off groceries,” Angel whispered. “Tiana’s keeping an eye on your grandpa.”
How did I deserve a guy who thought of everything? I stared at him as I sipped my coffee, waiting for all the lights to turn on inside my brain.
A file box sat beside the door, my work bag on top of it, and I blinked at the pile, not recalling when it had arrived.
“Hanna dropped off the box,” Angel said as he chopped veggies, preparing an omelet mix. “We are officially off the cultist’s case…” But he let that hang in the air as he coated a skillet and turned it on. “While unofficially being given access to classified files. Anyone asks and we know nothing.”
“Wait,” I grumbled. “Coffee is not working yet.”
Angel wrapped his arm around my waist, pulling me close and nuzzling my cheek. “She wants us to find Cassidy before the military does.”
“Why? They have more firepower, right? If he’s working with some sort of god?”
