Page 31 of Stroke of Shadows

It didn’t take long before Moustache returned, his face twisted with fury. “You’re free to go.”

The other detective shot to his feet. “What the fuck? We’re just letting him go?”

“There’s nothing we can do. The case has been dropped,” Moustache sneered.

Sythe slapped his palm on the table. “Well, it’s been entertaining. Nice to have met you guys.” He ignored the mumbled curses, whistling as he was escorted out of the station and into the evening rain.

He knew someone would be waiting for him, and yet Sythe skidded to a stop, pinning the last man he expected to see with a glare.

Councillor fucking Edwards. The Archdruid to the druids, and his sperm donor.

“Are you serious right now?” he growled, quickly looking around the street to make sure they were alone. “What the fuck are you doing here?” He would’ve been informed he was unavailable, not that he was ever available when it came to his father.

Edwards’s expression tightened, the same sharp bone structure as Sythe. “You know this isn’t how it works. Get in the car.”

Sythe knew he should argue, but if his father had already bothered to track him down once, he’d likely do it again. With a quiet curse, he stepped into the road, opening the back passenger side and sliding in.

“Just drive around,” Edwards said to his personal driver before bringing up the privacy screen.

Sythe didn’t have time to wait, knowing he had to be back on the streets ready to be picked up. “What do you want?”

Edwards turned to fully face him, his gaze holding an uncomfortable weight. “Could I’ve not just wanted to see my son?”

Sythe gritted his teeth. “No, you always have ulterior motives. So what is it?” Edwards had never really been anything but a sperm donor, preferring to hire various nannies to bring him up than dare to parent himself. As soon as Sythe became attached to one, he’d replace them.

“I think you’ve had enough time playing your childish games,” Edwards said in a scathing tone.

“Childish?”

Edwards continued as if Sythe hadn’t spoken. “It’s time for you to take your place by my side. The Order have been patient with—”

“I’d rather eat shit.”

Sythe glanced down at the tattoos on his father’s wrists, the three bands of glyphs a powerful sign amongst their kind. But nothing compared to the Guardians.

“Is that it? Are we done? Because I’d like to get back to my life.”

And away from you, he mentally added.

Edwards’ right brow arched, eyes darkening with impatience. “If you won’t come to the Order, it’s time you took over as leader of the Guardians.”

“We already have an alpha.” He’d chosen the word specifically, knowing his father’s aversion to them all. He saw them as nothing but barely leashed barbarians. More animals than men.

“A leader who’s failing his duty.” Edwards’ frame was rigid beside him. “The Daemon king is mocking us all. Shadow-Veyn activity is skyrocketing, and we’re barely able to keep it from the general public.”

Sythe snorted. “You don’t give a shit about the general public.” He’d always only cared about the continuing survival of the druids, their Breed one of the rarest. He was arguably a great Archdruid, but a terrible fucking Councilman.

Anger lit Edwards’ eyes. “We’ve been having emergency meetings. Gideon’s made a move to take a seat amongst—”

Sythe laughed, the sound echoing around them. “Gideon’s threatening your power within the Council, that’s what this is about.”

“We cannot let that happen,” Edwards growled. “They’re too dangerous to be accepted into society. They’ll change the balance.”

“The Council’s supposed to represent all Breed. It makes sense he wants to take a seat.” Not that he or any of the other Guardians would allow that to happen. It was why they were created. Cursed.

Daemons were leeches, sucking the life out of anything in their path as long as it gave them power. It was known that black magic corrupted the magic bearers over time, and Daemons flocked to it like magnets. It created an unquenchable lust that consumed the person they once were, leaving nothing but a hollow void that wanted one thing. More.

More death. More control. More power.

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