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“Or someone with enough leverage to force the cover-up.” Julian pulled up a map, dropping pins at each location. “The property that sold is in the industrial district, near the old rail yards. The Vane warehouse where we came across the last trap was three blocks north.”
Rook’s blood went cold. “You think there’s a connection between Ashford and Vane?”
“I think there’s a connection between Ashford and whoever sold Vane the suppression technology.” Ethan glanced at Julian. “You said the apparatus that caught and held the guardians was designed by an occultist. Someone with extensive knowledge of guardian weaknesses.”
“Silas estimated it could’ve cost between two and five million dollars to construct and set up.” Julian’s expression darkened. “Vane couldn’t have afforded that alone. He needed a backer.”
“Ashford.” Rook stood, his shadows spilling across the floor. “We need to tell Thorn…”
“I’ve already texted him,” Julian said. “He’s pulling the sealed property records now through less official channels.”
Ethan set his mug down carefully. His hands were steady, but Rook caught the tension in his shoulders, and the too-careful control that meant he was processing something either he didn’t like, or that he thought Rook wouldn’t. “I’m not going home tonight.”
It would be morning in a few hours, so “tonight” was a bit of a misnomer, but Rook’s shadows stopped moving entirely. “What?”
“Julian explained, and he is right, that my apartment isn’t safe.” Ethan kept his gaze on the laptop screen. “Grant Voss has my address from the theater employment records. If Ashford’s network is hunting for witnesses, I’m an obvious target. And…” He paused, adjusting his glasses in that way that meant he was forcing himself to articulate something uncomfortable. “And the idea of being twenty minutes away from here makes my chest physically hurt. I realize that sounds irrational, but it is what it is.”
The mate bond - it had to be. Clearly it was already forming, even though Ethan didn’t fully understand what it was yet.
Stay cool. I have to be cool about this. “Obviously, you can stay here as long as you need. Forever is fine,” Rook managed to stop his mouth from moving, but his shadows were clearly running ahead of his brain. Surging forward, they wrapped around Ethan’s wrists and ankles before spiraling up his arms like they were afraid he’d change his mind. “Damn it, I’m sorry…” So much for trying to be cool.
“It’s fine.” Ethan watched the shadows wind around his forearms. “They’re warm, which is still strange to me, but it’s nice.”
“They like you.” As if that wasn’t obvious, and as if Rook hadn’t said the same thing about six times already.
“They’re very enthusiastic about it.” Ethan lifted one arm experimentally. The shadows moved with him, a second skin that highlighted every movement. “Do they always do this?”
“Only Rook’s shadows with you,” Julian said, smiling. “Cillian’s shadows were like that at the beginning, but they are significantly more reserved now.”
“Your shadows make decorative knots,” Ethan pointed out.
“Decorative, useful knots.”
Rook tried to call his shadows back, but they ignored him completely. They were too busy mapping every inch of Ethan they could reach without actually removing his clothes. One tendril wound through Ethan’s hair, another traced the line of his jaw, and still another tendril had wrapped around his chest and was resting directly over his heart.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, now they’re checking your pulse,” Rook said, wishing the floor would just open up and swallow him. “I’m sorry, they’re…”
“They’re just concerned about me.” Ethan reached up and ran his fingers through the shadow wrapped in his hair. It shivered, delighted. “They can feel that something’s wrong.”
Because something was wrong. The mate bond, which the shadows had already started, registered Ethan’s stress, his exhaustion, the fear he was too controlled to show outwardly. Rook’s shadows responded the only way they knew how - by covering every vulnerable point they could reach and refusing to let go.
“I’ll set up a room for you,” Rook said. “We have spare…”
“I found something.” Silas appeared in the doorway, tablet in hand. His gaze landed on Ethan - currently wearing approximately seventy percent of Rook’s shadow mass - and one eyebrow rose. “Should I come back?”
“No.” Ethan shook his head, and Rook’s shadows moved with him, because they have no freaking shame. “What did you find?”
Silas crossed to the table and set his tablet down. The screen showed a series of sigil patterns, complex interlocking symbols drawn in what looked like blood. “The warehouse wards. I analyzed the resonance signature.”
Julian leaned forward. “And?”
“These sigils match the suppression cage from the Vane operation. It’s from the same occultist.” Silas pulled up a second image - older, more degraded, but with identical core geometry. “The exact same source.”
Rook’s shadows tightened around Ethan protectively.
“Which means what, exactly?” Ethan asked. “You’ve got to remember that happened before I knew you all.”
“It means someone is selling anti-guardian technology to multiple crime networks.” Thorn’s voice came from the hallway before he entered, Cillian behind him. “And they’re getting better at it. The Vane apparatus required a contained space and a blood sacrifice to activate it. These wards are portable, faster to deploy, and designed to burn guardian essence on contact.”
