Page 19 of Death Makes the Heart Grow Fonder

He paused, listening, then smiled.

“No, do not bring the red one. I don’t care if it’s your favorite.”

Carnell ended the call and looked pleased with himself. “They’ll have two SUVs waiting.”

He gestured toward a hallway and started walking, confident, as if he weren’t in a building that probably had three secret exits and a panic room labeled something obnoxious like Pleasure Dungeon.

We followed.

The elevator was sleek, quiet, and absurdly clean. Carnell pressed the button without looking, like the elevator had never once dared to disobey him. The doors slid shut.

As we descended, my stomach did that strange floaty drop, like it couldn’t decide if it hated portal travel more or elevators.

I glanced at Eve, because my brain had finally latched onto the detail that mattered.

“Andel,” I said. “Tell me about him.”

Eve’s eyes shifted toward me. Her fingers brushed her amethyst again, a small tell that she didn’t like the topic.

“He’s a metallurgist,” she said. “A real one. Not a hobbyist who melts down jewelry in a pot and calls it magic.”

Faith’s brows lifted. “You’ve met those?”

Eve’s expression went flat. “Yes.”

I fought a smile.

Eve continued, voice calm. “He does metalwork for wards. Reinforcements. Specialty pieces. Sometimes for weapons, but he avoids the aggressive stuff. He says metal holds memory. He treats it like it’s alive.”

I nodded. That made sense. Some practitioners treated elements like tools. Others treated them like allies.

“And the necromancy?” I prompted.

Eve sighed, quiet. “He has it. He knows it. He doesn’t use it unless he has to. He says death magic is a debt that always collects interest.”

Faith looked toward Eve, something like respect flickering. “That’s not a bad philosophy.”

Eve’s mouth tightened. “It’s also why he stays out of coven politics. He doesn’t trust the council. He doesn’t trust power-hungry warlocks. He doesn’t trust Lucinda.”

I snorted softly. “Smart man.”

The elevator dinged, and the doors slid open into a ground-level hallway that smelled of cleaning solution and something sugary, like someone’s perfume had spilled and never left.

Carnell led us toward a back exit. But he motioned for us to go ahead, he placed his hand on the door that led to the gate. “I will leave you here.”

As we approached the alley door, Faith shifted closer to him. “You sure you will be safe?”

Carnell glanced at her, and for a moment the flirtation dropped out of his face. Something older showed, something protective.

“As safe as anything tonight,” he said quietly. “Stay alert.”

Faith’s jaw tightened. “Always.”

We stepped into the alley.

Two SUVs waited, engines off, parked close enough to the wall to stay out of the street’s main sightlines. Under the dim light, two figures stood near the driver’s side doors.

They were identical. Same height, same build, same pale skin that looked almost gray in the shadow. Long dark hair, eyes too bright.