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Xavier ignored me. His gaze swept over me like he was determining if I was some kind of zombie. “You’re supposed to be dead.”

“Been mostly dead all day. You know, the usual.” I spread my hands. “Also, Ivan has a teacher now. Beau. Root-keeper. Hedge witch. Lives in a tree. Has a raccoon with a pastry addiction. He’s teaching Ivan control.” I paused. “Oh, and he’s got some sort of life magic that can make me solid, but only inside this apartment. So if you need me to punch you, you’ll have to come inside.” I waved at the group of misfits that made up our team and part of Victor’s team. “But I’ve got powerful friends now.”

Xavier’s gaze snapped to Ivan. “You’re learning from the grandson of Baba Yaga?”

Ivan shrugged. “He mentioned a grandmother who lived in a hut with chicken legs. I assumed that was, like, a metaphor or something.”

“It was not a metaphor,” Xavier growled.

I held up a hand, recalling that Ivan had mentioned it originally, but the truth of it hadn’t sunk in until that moment. “Let me get this straight. Beau—calm, dirt-obsessed, pastry-baking Beau—is the grandson of the most terrifying witch in Slavic folklore? The one who eats children and fences her houses with human bones?”

“Beau said the eating kids’ part isn’t true,” Ivan defended. “It was just a way for the patriarchy to villainize her. The bones part might be true. He mentioned it makes a good deterrent.”

I opened my mouth, had nothing.

Out of the frying pan and into the fire.

Xavier was still staring at Ivan like he’d grown a second head. “You realize what this means. Once you’re bound to them, obligations. Consequences.”

“I know,” Ivan said.

“You don’t know anything. You’re a child.”

Ivan stiffened, his back ramrod straight, tension tightening his jaw. “I see more than you think.” His eyes flared bright for a half second. I reached for him, instinct, but he blinked and it faded. He turned his back on Xavier, eyes filling even as I put myself between him and the demigod.

Xavier’s gaze snapped to me. “You’re allowing him to cast wild magic? How long until he gets himself killed like you?”

“Rude,” I growled. “I didn’t get myself killed. I saved my team from a death curse. I’m sorry if one life for a dozen isn’t a big deal to you, but it matters to me. And Ivan is learning control. Something you promised you’d help with, but instead, you decided to cover him in bubble wrap and call it protection.”

Xavier’s jaw tightened.

The silence stretched. Xavier’s gaze kept drifting to Ivan, then snapping away like the looking itself caused him pain. But he said nothing, as if he realized he had no say, and that was the choice he’d made.

Ivan was quiet for a long moment. Then he said, “I’m okay. I have Jude. I have Angel. I have Beau. I’m learning control.”

Xavier stared at him. For a moment, I thought he might say something else. Then he turned sharply and left, the kitsune twins falling into step behind him.

The door clicked shut.

I looked at Ivan. He stood with his back to the door, his face unreadable. I carefully touched his shoulder. He flinched, but turned his gaze my way, and there was fire there. Pain, sure. But resolve.

“Let’s figure out what Dad was doing,” Ivan said. “And stop this. Before there’s nothing left of you but soot shadows.”

33

ANGEL

While I’d have liked to work from home all day, I worried that not making an appearance in the office would mean Phelps taking over the case. So I headed in, less groggy and not thrilled about the massive amount of paperwork I’d need to review.

The SED building swarmed with military and agents from other divisions. Everyone avoided meeting my gaze, which made me uneasy, though no one barred me from the building. Kerry had warned me that several unfamiliar SVs were in the building, which was unusual. They were so rare that pulling them off other cases made me worry they were specifically looking for Jude, though I hadn’t witnessed a single new red armband stalking our floor.

Merrill strutted around like a rooster, chatting up everyone who wasn’t a shifter like they were old friends. I ignored him and sat down at my desk, staring at Jude’s empty one for a long moment, a familiar pang in my chest, before booting up my computer.

Starred case files. Emails. Stacks of documents to review.

I mentally groaned. I’d rather be searching Adrian Holt’s place of business and home, but both sites were lousy with agents who specialized in evidence retrieval. Could they see the corruption in the weave like I now could, thanks to my Bastion form? Unlikely. But I also didn’t need anyone to know about that particular ability. Which meant I was relegated to desk work.

I sighed and dove in.