Page 50

“All the old families. The ones who’ve been here since the beginning.” She presses a cup into my hands. “Drink. You look like you’re about to faint.”

The tea is bitter, burns going down, but it clears the fog enough that I can think again.

“You’re on the council?”

“Forty years now. Since my mother died.” Mrs. Chen settles into a chair and wraps both hands around her cup like she’s trying to warm them. “Most of the old families serve. We keep the peace, mediate disputes, make sure nothing gets out of hand.”

The baby has gone still, like it’s listening.

“What are you?” The question escapes before I can stop it.

She smiles, but it’s sad and tired and older than anything should be.

“Ancient. Like most of us.” She sips her tea. “This town was founded by refugees. Supernaturals fleeing persecution, people who wanted to stop hiding and exist without fear.”

“When?”

“Long before this country had a name. Before borders were drawn or wars fought or constitutions written.” She sets down her cup with deliberate care. “The Hollow was here first. The barrier between worlds. We built the town around it, created the wards, made rules to keep everyone safe.”

“Safe from what?”

“From what’s inside, and from what’s outside.” Her eyes are dark and ancient and see too much. “Some residents are human, some aren’t, and most never notice the difference because we’ve worked very hard to maintain that ignorance. The council keeps the balance.”

She pauses, her gaze shifting to Malak in the doorway.

“The wards need constant reinforcement. That’s what guardians do—did. Walk the barrier every full moon, pour power back into the cracks, keep the Rot contained.” Her expression turns grim. “But you haven’t been able to, have you? Since the child.”

“No,” Malak says quietly from where he stands, silent and watchful.

“How bad is it?”

“Bad enough that Preston has probably noticed.” His jaw tightens. “Bad enough that he knows exactly when to strike.”

Mrs. Chen nods slowly, like she expected this answer but hoped she was wrong.

“Preston’s family.” Her voice goes sharp enough to cut. “They’ve always wanted more. Power, control, money. They’ve been pushing for years to develop the Hollow, turn it into profit. The rest of us have held them back, but Preston isn’t like his father. He’s smarter, more patient, and infinitely more dangerous.”

“What does he want?”

“To break the barrier and release what’s inside.” She stands, walks to the window where weak sunlight struggles through the glass. “There are things in the Hollow that could be useful if controlled, if harnessed. Preston thinks he can do it, use them to make himself rich and powerful.”

My stomach turns. “And the council allows this?”

“The council is divided. Newer members don’t understand the danger. They think the old ways are superstition, that progress matters more than caution.” She turns back, and her expression is grim. “Preston is persuasive. Very, very persuasive.”

“So what do I do?”

“You attend the meeting. Defend yourself. Prove you’re not a threat.” Her hand lands on my shoulder, warm and steady and real. “And you go alone.”

“No.” Malak’s voice cuts through the kitchen like a blade. “She doesn’t.”

Mrs. Chen looks at him, really looks, and her expression shifts into something between recognition and grief.

“Shadow guardian. I thought your kind was extinct.”

“Not yet.”

“If you accompany her, they’ll use it as proof that she’s consorting with daemons, bringing darkness into the community.”