Page 51 of Avidian
“Yes,” he says, his gaze steady. “We call ourselves Solace.”
“Solace,” I repeat. It feels almost too peaceful, too clean for what he’s describing, but then again I did call him the savior. The thought makes me want to laugh, but I refrain.
“You’re wondering why we’d choose something so…gentle sounding,” he says, catching my expression. “It’s not about being intimidating. Solace is what we offer the people we save. A way out. A second chance.”
“And how many members does the Syndicate have? And Solace?” I ask, trying to strike a balance between curiosity and caution, testing how much they’re willing to reveal.
Irina sets her mug down and leans back slightly, considering her answer. “That’s where things get a little complicated,” she says with some discomfort. “We have numbers in the hundreds but not thousands. It’s a tightrope to balance. We want as many people as possible working toward the cause, but every new member is a risk. If the wrong person joins us, it could mean the end of everything we’ve built.”
I nod, digesting that. It makes sense, but it also makes me wonder how they’ve kept this network hidden for so long.
Irina stands, smoothing down her sweater. “I still have a lot of work to do today, but something tells me you’ll have more questions for me later.” She smiles warmly, but something about it leaves me unsettled.
“Why do you say that?” I ask, setting my empty mug on the table and rising to my feet.
“You’ll see,” she says, a knowing glint in her eye before she collects our mugs and disappears into the kitchen.
I glance at Malachi, crossing my arms. “Well, that was...cryptic. I don’t think I’ve ever been told so much information so openly and yet still felt like I’m missing something huge. What’s with all the mystery?”
Malachi shrugs, an amused smile tugging at his lips. “It’s better if I show you. You’ll understand why it’s not something we can explain once you see it for yourself.”
“What are you going to show me?”
He tilts his head toward the door. “Get your coat. You’ll see soon enough.”
Chapter Sixteen
RULE 16 OF THE NEW ORDER: LIFE IS UNPREDICTABLE. IT CAN SHIFT IN THE BLINK OF AN EYE, NOT ONCE BUT OVER AND OVER AGAIN.
“Tract houses?You brought me to a neighborhood in the middle of nowhere where every house looks the same?” I ask skeptically as we stand outside one of the beige-painted homes.
“You don’t miss a thing, do you? I always imagined demons were supposed to be clever, but I guess all the brains are reserved for the devil.” Malachi smirks, and I punch him in the arm.
“Very funny,” I mutter, following him up the path to the front door. He doesn’t bother knocking and lets himself in, and my suspicion flares.
“Do you always break into houses, or is this a special occasion?” I ask, stepping into a space that looks almost too perfect. The house is clean and orderly—simple furniture, neutral tones, not a personal touch in sight.
“Relax. This is one of ours.” He’s already moving, leading me down the hall to a large living room. As I look around, I can’t shake the sterile feeling of the place. It’s livable but devoid of life.
Malachi approaches a built-in bookshelf on the far wall and tugs on one of the books. The entire shelf swings open, revealing a hidden passageway.
“Okay, really? That’s not predictable or anything. You know how many books I’ve read with secret bookshelves?” I say, crossing my arms even as my inner nerd fights not to fangirl over the sheer coolness of it.
“Yeah, we’re all clichés here,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Not everyone can be an endlessly clever demon.” He steps into the dimly lit corridor beyond the bookshelf, his footsteps echoing faintly as he approaches a set of double doors.
He presses a button, and the doors slide open, revealing an elevator. Without hesitation, he steps inside and waves for me to follow. I glance back at the slowly closing bookshelf, and those intrusive, self-preservation instincts kick in.
This is how nightmares begin…
“Well?” Malachi raises an eyebrow. With a deep breath, I step into the elevator.
“Okay, let’s recap,” I say as the doors slide shut. “Secret bookshelf, creepy hallway, hidden elevator in the middle of a too-quiet neighborhood. So tell me—are you a serial killer, or is this a cult?”
He grins.
The elevator doors slide open with a soft hiss, and I step out into another world—one that leaves me momentarily breathless.
The first thing I notice is the light. It isn’t harsh or fluorescent like I’d expect in an underground bunker. Instead, it’s a warm, ethereal glow emanating from crystalline fixtures embedded into the walls, ceilings, and even the floors. They cast a soft shimmer that dances across the vast expanse before me. The space is massive, and as I take another step forward, the enormity of it hits me.
