“Did you have anything to do with Nathan’s disappearance?”

“Of course I didn’t.”

“No, I had nothing to do with that poor boy going missing.”

“Are you serious? He’s my friend. I wouldn’t do anything to him.”

“Are you currently involved in anything that you’ve been trying to keep from Gabriel?”

“I’ve been watching Real Housewives without him.”

“Sometimes I steal his trousers and secretly tailor them to make his butt look better.”

“I ruined the boots I borrowed from him.”

I leaned forward in my chair, staring intently at the vampire across from me. “Would you ever willingly hurt Gabriel?” I asked.

“No.”

“No.”

“No.”

I found Gabriel in his study, shuffling papers around his desk in a masterfully choreographed performance of Man Trying to Look Busy. Stupid vampire hearing probably meant that he’d been able to hear me coming from the other side of the house, but I knocked on the frame of the open door, anyway.

“Can I come in?” I asked.

“Of course,” he said.

“Your friends are solid,” I told him. In the end, I spent twenty minutes with each of them, and none of them told me anything even a little suspicious. “Lissa acts like you’re her little brother, Vic wouldn’t do anything to make Lissa unhappy, and Theo’s biggest red flag is that they’re a Scorpio. None of them know anything about the ascendancy array, and none of them have any history of working with your father.”

Gabriel’s shoulders sagged. “Good,” he breathed. “Good. Thank you.”

I put a hand on his arm and squeezed gently. The fabric of his sleeve was very soft under my touch. “They care so much about you,” I told him quietly. “You don’t have to worry about them. I want to get them up to speed on what we’re facing.”

“I’m glad you did this,” Gabriel said abruptly. “It’s reassuring to know that I’ve put at least some of my faith in the right people.”

“You should probably tell them that,” I said. “I know talking about your feelings isn’t your favorite, but they should hear it from you. In the meantime, I’ve gotta get in touch with some witches.”

I flopped on one of the benches tucked into the alcoves of the upstairs hallway as I texted Isabella. I was glad everyone had checked out, obviously, but I was still a little burnt out and needed to take some alone time to recharge before the others showed up. I got the feeling that rest and relaxation were going to be increasingly rare resources over the next few days.

I sent off a quick text to Marcus, who I knew wouldn’t respond, and treated myself to a nice long sigh, closing my eyes and tipping my head back against the damask wallpaper behind me. It was a hell of an adjustment, going from living alone and working by myself more often than not to being part of a team. Especially a team that shared a house. Part of me missed my quiet apartment.

The doorbell rang, jolting me out of my thoughts. I opened my eyes and squinted up at the ceiling. Maybe if I didn’t answer, somebody else would get it? But, no. It was probably just Marcus, and he would understand if I needed a minute to myself after letting him in.

I headed down the sweeping staircase and opened the door, letting in a gust of cold autumn wind. Dusk was in full swing, and the stained-glass porch lights had come on, casting panels of jewel-toned glow over the newcomer.

The woman outside was slim and pale, with a round, flawless face, and long, dark hair. She wore a massive fur coat over a floor-length black dress. As she looked at me, she tilted her head to the side, making the colored light slide over her face. A patch of crimson settled over her cheekbone, purple over one of her eyes, green over the other. I was distantly aware that she was incredibly beautiful, the same way a marble sculpture could be beautiful.

“You must be Evangeline,” the woman said.

“How do you know who I am?” I asked, keeping my voice calm, even though a spike of unease shot through me.

“Iskra mentioned you when she got in touch,” the woman said. She swept past me, her heels clicking on the polished marble of the entryway, and I had to turn my head to the side to avoid getting a mouthful of her coat. Her perfume smelled expensive. I was suddenly painfully aware of my well-worn jeans, the fact that my shirt had some old potion stains on the cuff, and how brightly my neon-green socks stood out against the fancy floor. At least I knew I didn’t have any smudges of leftover eyeliner from last night, but that was a small comfort.

“Who the fuck are you?” I asked, feeling incredibly off-kilter as I shut the door behind us.

The woman flicked a hand at me without looking, like I was a hovering waiter she didn’t want to deal with. “Don’t mind me, I’m just here to see—Ah, Gabriel!”