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“I can climb.”
“I know you can. But this is faster, and I really want you to meet everyone so they can help convince you to stay.” Rook held out his arms. “Trust me?”
Ethan looked at the offered embrace, then at the wall and the shadows on it. Finally, he stepped forward into Rook’s arms. “This is highly irregular.”
“That’s basically my life motto.” Rook lifted Ethan easily, more shadows wrapping around them both as he scaled the wall. Ethan’s weight felt perfect against his chest. His beacon.
The roof access door appeared normal from above - rusted metal that would be expected in an abandoned building. But Rook’s shadows slid through the locks, disengaging wards that would’ve incinerated anyone else. He set Ethan down carefully on the rooftop.
“The external appearance is a camouflage.” Ethan examined the door. “Inside is different.”
“Way different.” Rook opened the door, revealing the staircase down to the living quarters. Warm light spilled up from below, along with the scent of coffee and the aroma of freshly baked sweet foods. “I was baking earlier. Hopefully the muffins aren’t all eaten yet.”
“Were you stressed?” Ethan lingered by the door. “I thought you’d be sleeping?”
“You weren’t with me, and you’re in danger whether you see it or not. Add in the fact that beacons are rare, mate bonds are sacred, and everyone’s going to be protective of you now. Muffins seemed like a good idea at the time.” Rook started down the stairs, Ethan following. “Fair warning - Thorn’s going to act intimidating, Silas is going to ask invasive questions, and Julian’s probably going to correct something you say within thirty seconds.”
“You told me all that already.”
“It bears repeating. I don’t want you going into a new situation unprepared.” Rook reached the bottom of the stairs, where the warehouse’s interior opened into comfortable living space. Exposed brick, leather furniture, city maps displayed on a wall of computer screens, and the door that led to a kitchen that any chef would be proud to run.
Thorn was watching the screens, Silas sat at the computer terminal in his typically pristine white shirt. Cillian lounged against the counter, his shadows pooling at his feet, while Julian sat at a table surrounded by three laptops and a stack of files.
“Everyone, this is Ethan.” Rook’s hand found Ethan’s back, hoping Ethan would see the gesture as protective and comforting. “Ethan, this is everyone.”
Julian looked up first, his gaze sharp behind his own wire-rimmed glasses. “You work at the Garrison Theater. Rook mentioned you’ve been documenting staff disappearances.”
“For the past six months.” Ethan’s posture straightened, falling into what Rook recognized as his analytical mode. “I documented four cases of confirmed missing persons, all service workers, who were all approached by Grant Voss before vanishing. The text last night said the number was actually twelve people.”
“Fourteen, now.” Silas rotated in his chair, pale gray eyes clinical. “We found two more from adjacent properties. The network’s larger than initially assessed.”
Rook didn’t like the way Ethan’s face had no expression at all. “Have you located Fiona Green?”
The question hung in the air. Rook’s shadows tightened around his own arms, fighting the urge to wrap around Ethan instead. He’d been hoping they’d have good news. Something concrete. An address, a location, anything that would tell Ethan his friend was alive.
“Not yet.” Thorn’s voice rumbled like distant thunder. “But we’re close.”
Chapter Eight
“Before we discuss the disappearances further,” Julian said, closing the laptop nearest him, “do you have questions about Eldritch guardians? I understand you’re worried about your friend, Fiona - that’s logical. But it’s pointless working with paranormal entities if you don’t understand their motivations and behavioral patterns in different situations.”
Ethan blinked. He’d expected interrogation about his documentation methods, not an offer to explain the fundamentals of shadow monsters. “That’s...practical, and would be extremely useful, thank you.”
“Julian’s very practical.” Cillian’s voice was deep, with a certain resonance to it that suggested “other” if someone thought to listen for it. His entirely black eyes fixed on Ethan. “He corrected my body disposal techniques the night we met.”
“The dumpster three streets over had better collection schedules.” Julian’s tone suggested this was obvious. “That was basic municipal research.”
Rook’s hand pressed more firmly against Ethan’s back. “See? They had a connection from the start.”
Ethan realized he and Rook might be sharing something similar - just without the body disposal information. He’d been an art history student, not someone who worked in a library. To cover his newly found awareness, he pulled out his phone, opening the notes app where he’d documented questions the night before. “I made a list. Is that a problem?”
“Why would it be a problem?” Rook sounded delighted rather than annoyed. “Go ahead.”
“Question one: Can guardians die?” Ethan looked up from his phone. “Rook mentioned you’ve existed for centuries, but that doesn’t confirm immortality versus extreme longevity.”
“We can be destroyed.” Thorn turned from the monitors, his massive frame casting shadows that didn’t behave normally. “Suppression technology weakens us. Extended exposure to certain sigils drains our essence, and if our physical form sustains enough damage while weakened, it is possible we could dissipate.”
“But you don’t age biologically?”
