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Annoyed, I looked back at Miles, who had now come to a halt in front of the unrolled papyrus scroll that I had stolen from one of the archives in Aswan without anyone noticing.

Ink-drawn Umbra runes were visible on the ancient papyrus. A groundbreaking discovery I had made three years ago, revealing to me that the dark practices must have originated in the Mediterranean region, as this was the oldest object with Umbra runes that could be found. It was surely worth millions among those who knew about the hidden supernaturalism of this world.

It had to be mentioned that although it was difficult to find anything about Umbra – because the damn Councils had done a good job of eliminating any traces of the dark practices – the runes of darkness were hidden in many ancient artifacts, scriptures, even paintings and ceramic jewelry.

“Who could this mysterious stranger be?”

I gave up trying to distract myself.

Miles wouldn't let up until I responded to his teasing remarks or put an end to his games by simply answering him honestly.

“Someone unreachable,” I replied, taking another burning sip that pretended to bring warmth to my body.

The only thing that had ever really warmed me was now gone.

It was a realization that crept up on me when I lay in bed and tried to close my eyes. When I sat alone at my desk at two in the morning and abruptly stopped reading research notes and instead stared into the flames of the dripping candles on my windowsill. At the white moths swarming around them with their shimmering white wing bases – as if light were creeping through their wing veins, trying to reach the tip of their wings in vain – which seemed to exist only in Blairville. And it was what repeatedly sent me into shock when I stood alone in my office at Vanderwood, looking out the window and letting my gaze wander over the roofs and towers of the university.

I was losing her.

“Maybe she's taken and wants to keep this affair clean.”

Miles turned – fortunately for him – away from the unrolled papyrus scroll and walked over to the table with the scarab collection, which I had not brought from Egypt but from an old abandoned Tudor-style house in Fogs Forest.

Unfortunately, these treasures were the only ones I had been able to take with me when I had broken into the abandoned house, because I had sensed a dark coldness approaching me that night two years ago. And damn it, as reckless as I was when it came to research, I had no intention of dying at the hands of a Ruisangor.

“Many women who have affairs keep them strictly separate from their private lives in order to maintain the illusion of perfection on both sides.”

I looked at Miles, wondering on the one hand if he was serious and on the other why he sounded like he was speaking from experience.

“Definitely not,” I snorted, convinced that J would never lie to me like that.

Her soul was pure. What else could it be, when she had sacrificed her precious time and showed pity for someone like me, who constantly wrapped the theories he couldn't share with anyone in Greek mythology? She had been putting up with me all this time, right up until I had ruined our friendship in that goddamn parking lot.

J was a gracious gift from the gods that I did not deserve. And I wasn't going to let such thoughts tarnish that image of her.

“Mm... Or a seventy-year-old granny with a shriveled face who wants to have some fun again.”

Miles turned to me with a grin and took his first sip.

“She’s my age and she’s beautiful,” I replied far too quickly, but I didn’t regret a word.

Everything I had seen of her so far had been breathtaking. Her soft, light hair, her delicate figure, those goddamn well-formed tits that felt like golden fleece in my hands...

The mere memory of them bouncing up and down when she had ridden me sent blood rushing to my cock.

I took a big gulp, cursing inwardly.

“So, you've already met her?”

Miles looked at me with raised eyebrows.

“She was wearing a mask…” I confessed, intoxicated by the thought that we had played with each other by hiding from one another without a piece of fabric between our naked bodies.

“What kind of crazy Cinderella shit are you running there?” Miles laughed, and I gave him a punishing look. “Or is this some kind of fucked-up kink and I should be worried?”

I shook my head with a sigh and walked over to the couch, where I sat down.

“You're clearly sticking your nose too deep into things that are none of your business,” I grumbled, watching with growing frustration as the corners of Miles' mouth engaged in competitive sports.