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Rook’s phone buzzed. It was Silas, responding to the photographs Rook had sent earlier.

Silas: Grant Voss appears to be a primary recruiter for a man called Ashford. Approaches vulnerable staff with “opportunities.” Three confirmed trafficking connections. Could be more.

Rook’s shadows went still. Not calm-still. Predator-still.

Rook: How long has this been running?

Silas: Years. Possibly decades. Ashford’s network is extensive.

Rook: Ethan’s coworker disappeared nineteen hours ago.

Silas: Then we’re likely in another collection window. Don’t let Ethan investigate alone.

Rook pocketed his phone and forced his breathing to steady. His shadows crawled up his arms, seeking comfort or offering it, he could never quite tell which.

The theater’s back door opened at ten forty-seven. Ethan emerged wearing a black coat over his staff uniform, his bag slung across his shoulder, and his phone in hand. He scanned the parking lot, clearly checking the area, and Rook’s shadows lunged.

He grabbed for them, but they were faster, one tendril wrapping around Ethan’s wrist like a bracelet while another curled around his ankle, as if testing the texture of his shoe, and a third one reached for his bag strap.

Oops. Rook winced, waiting to see what Ethan would do. If he had any doubt that Ethan was his beacon, they were gone in that instant. An Eldritch guardian’s shadows could be lethal to anyone not a beacon, and yet Ethan was clearly fine…although a little confused. He had stopped walking, and he looked down at the shadow wrapped around his shoe and then up at Rook.

“Did you lose something? Are these part of you?”

Rook yanked his shadows back, but it wasn’t easy. “Sorry. They have boundary issues.”

Ethan adjusted his glasses, clearly still processing. His gaze tracked the shadows as they coiled around Rook’s boots. No point in hiding them now, right? “They appear corporeal. Semi-solid matter responding to your emotional state?”

“Something like that.” Rook shoved his hands in his jacket pockets to keep from reaching for Ethan himself. “They really like you.”

“Why?”

Because you’re mine. Because my shadows know what my brain refused to acknowledge. Because I met you four days ago and I’m already taking note of the exact angle of your glasses and the way you stand when you’re thinking.

“They think you’re interesting?”

Ethan’s expression shifted - not fearful, more fascinated. It was a similar kind of curiosity that he’d shown when Rook had intervened with Brad. “Can I touch one? Is that allowed?”

Rook’s brain might have short-circuited, but his shadows surged forward before he could stop them, delighted by the invitation. They wrapped around Ethan’s fingers, curled up his wrist, and twined between his knuckles as if holding his hand.

Raising his hand so it was closer to his face, Ethan examined them. “There’s a temperature differential. Interesting texture, too - not quite liquid, not quite solid - but I can definitely feel them. Do they have independent consciousness?”

“Semi-independent.” Rook’s voice came out rougher than intended. “They are a part of me and tend to reflect what I’m feeling.”

“Right now you’re feeling protective.” Ethan looked up from the shadows to meet Rook’s eyes. “Because of Fiona?”

Because of you.

“Yeah, Fiona’s part of it.” Rook cleared his throat. “You said you had documentation?”

Ethan pulled his hand back - the shadows clung for a moment before releasing - and retrieved his phone. “I spent the last part of my shift cross-referencing Grant Voss’s interactions with staff departures. The correlation is significant.”

He pulled up a spreadsheet that made Rook’s head hurt just looking at it. Color-coded entries, time stamps, behavioral notes, and interaction frequencies. Ethan had documented everything - dates, witnesses, specific conversations, and departure timelines.

“Grant approached four staff members in the six months before they left: Brad Conner, bartender, departed February eighth. Jen Williams, usher, departed March twenty-third. Dan Baker, bartender, departed April fifteenth. Fiona could be the fourth. She had her first date with Voss’s friend on Monday night, had an extended conversation with Grant on Tuesday, and then disappeared while apparently on a second date with the same person on Wednesday night.”

“Can I send these to someone?” Rook held up his phone. “I have resources.”

Ethan hesitated for only a moment. “Will it help find Fiona?”