Buried Secrets

"Mr. Revenant, open up." I banged on the door for the sixth time. The blue paint was chipped near the edges, and a rusty mail slot hung crookedly under the tarnished brass handle.

Come on, come on.

"By order of the Vanguard Police, step out now and present yourself."

Kade leaned against the threshold, arms crossed. The dim glow caught on the sharp angles of his face, shadowing his expression—cool, unreadable, but not quite indifferent. He didn't want to be here with me. That much was obvious. But there was something beyond that door that kept him from walking away.

"Welp," he drawled, watching a group of ogres saunter down the block. "So much for your grand plan."

I ignored him and knocked again, harder this time. "He's in there, I know it. I had Isla trace his magic less than an hour ago."

Kade sighed and pushed off the wall, stepping behind me. "Perhaps he had a late-night ice cream craving? What do you think a crazy mage doped up on black magic likes better—mint chocolate chip or tiger tiger?"

His voice was light, almost lazy, but something about it felt off. Too easy. Too smooth. Like he was trying too hard to sound like he didn't care.

I clenched my jaw. "If we could just get inside—"

A sudden shift—Kade moving, his weight coiling—registered a split second before impact. His boot struck the door dead center, a brutal, precise kick.

I yelped as the crack of splitting wood rang through the street, followed by the groan of old hinges giving way. The door buckled inward, revealing a yawning, dust-choked darkness. "You can't just—breaking and entering is a crime."

Even if he did do it with style.

Kade smirked at me, casual, almost cocky. "You ask, I deliver. Consider it a complementary service, boss." Then he turned toward the doorway. His expression tightened—just a fraction—before he stepped inside.

"Get back here," I hissed into the shadows. "Kade!"

But he was already gone.

I exhaled sharply, raking a hand through my hair. This so went against the Vanguard Code of Conduct—not to mention the damn Democratic Constitution.

But what was worse than breaking and entering a private residence? Letting a reckless delinquent run amok inside.

A passing group of dryads shot me curious looks. I forced a tight smile and waved my badge. "Nothing to see here. Just official Vanguard business." Their eyes flicked to the splintered doorway. I cleared my throat. "And, uh… a community-led initiative on improved air circulation."

They didn't look convinced. Neither was I.

Grumbling under my breath, I pulled my Mk II phaser from my thigh and peered into the gloom. "Mr. Revenant, this is Detective Lacey Sterling. Are you in there?"

Nothing.

"Mr. Revenant, there is a hostile mercenary in the area, and I have reasonable cause to believe you may be in imminent danger." Perhaps Kade was good for something after all—being my scapegoat if this shit got me indicted. "I'm invoking my authority as a Vanguard officer to enter the premises for your safety and to secure the situation."

A corridor stretched forward, wood flooring warped from water damage and wallpaper peeling. To my left was an office with a wall of sad, empty bookshelves, and to my right a tiny formal living room. The moldings were cracked and yellowed, and dusty cloth was draped over what appeared to be a sofa and two chairs. It looked like no one had lived here in ages.

I gulped. It was the blue door… right?

I gripped my phaser tighter. "If there are any residents present within these premises, you are hereby required to identify yourself immediat—"

"Shut up with that lawyer shit and get over here." Something tugged on my wrist, pulling me into the office. I slammed into Kade's chest.

He reached behind a bookshelf and pulled a latch, lifting a brow conspiratorially. "First tip on breaking and entering? All the real treasure is behind hidden doors." The whole bookcase swung open with a groan.

My lips parted. I glanced up at him, and there it was—that grin. The one that sent heat to my stomach in a way I wasn't ready to admit. "Oh, fantastic. Not only are you a criminal, but you're an efficient one."

He rolled his eyes, then slipped into the shadowed doorway.

"Wait! Kade, stop."

He didn't stop.

I groaned, hurrying to catch up with him.

Beyond the bookshelf, a narrow staircase spiraled down, the worn stone steps slick beneath my boots. I rushed down, the air damp and cold, thick with a stifling energy that made my spine tingle. Dark, corrupted magic hung around me—exactly the kind of vibe that screamed super-scary mage.

Ahead, Kade's boots were already growing fainter.

How the hell was I supposed to interrogate him if I couldn't even keep up?

"What exactly are you hoping to find down here?" I hissed down the stairs. "You came after Mirev fast—must be something worth the trouble."

Nothing but the echo of my voice for an answer.

There was no way Kade was a real member of Crimson…right? Those assholes were vile, no moral compass, running around causing chaos, whereas Kade was…charming. In an irritatingly reckless sort of way.

And if he had taken a job or two from them? Well, I'd call that more of a temporary business arrangement. A passing affiliation, perhaps.

Still made him a criminal.

I swallowed. "Or are you just after another payday? Must've been a nice stack of cash for putting down that ghoul last week. Still not enough to afford a day off sneaking around, though, huh?"

The stairs widened to a landing. My boot caught on a loose stone, and suddenly the floor wasn't where it was supposed to be. I lurched forward, arms pinwheeling—only to slam straight into Kade's waiting shoulder.

Which, by the way, turned out to be as infuriatingly solid as his chest.

"Shh." His grip tightened around my waist, steadying me like he'd expected nothing less of my coordination. But he didn't let go. His whole body had gone still, head tilted slightly, listening. Then, softer, close enough that his breath ghosted against my cheek, he murmured, "Keep fishing for information, detective, and I'll have to tack on a consultation fee."

I grimaced. So much for subtlety, Lace.

"Fishing? Please. This is just…friendly conversation. You know, bonding."

Kade exhaled a quiet laugh, glancing ahead. "I took you for a coffee-and-a-criminal-records-check kind of first date girl. But hey, high-stakes crime works too."

Great. Not only does he know I'm digging in to him, but now he thinks it's funny too.

"This is not a date—" My words cut off, my mouth falling open as I followed his gaze. "Oh my gods."

Ahead stretched a vaulted cavern, large enough for an adult dragon shifter to do a full wing stretch—with room to spare. But it wasn't the damp, decrepit hideout I'd expected.

It was…opulent.

A row of sleek stone columns lined either side of the chamber, each crowned with a snarling gargoyle and bathed in the warm glow of magelight lanterns. On one side, a state-of-the-art kitchen gleamed, complete with polished brass hardware and matte black cabinets. On the other, a low, custom-built sectional faced a massive plasma screen mounted above a floating fireplace, and beyond that, a silken king-sized bed draped in sheer black lace. At the heart of the room was a circular dais with seven towering bookshelves curved around it, forming some kind of library—but, unlike the shelves upstairs, these were crammed with heavy tomes, ancient scrolls, and an assortment of magical knickknacks.

It was a bachelor pad that rivalled the Fae district's penthouses—just missing the velvet ropes.

And—naturally, with my luck—the mage.

"Damn, Mirev's got style." I stepped forward. "Must be up to some real shady shit if he'd rather be out playing mad scientist than kick back in all this luxury."

Beside me, Kade's jaw tightened. "Or he's hiding like the damn coward he is."

I couldn't help but be drawn to the sleek marble countertop that stretched across the kitchen—stark white stone with blood red veining. I holstered my weapon, reaching out to run my finger across it, when Kade grabbed my wrist. He frowned, grip firm as his eyes scanned the room.

"What?"

"Can't you feel it?" His voice was low now, wary.

I glanced around, then back to the countertop. Nope. Just… marble. "You think the place is warded or something?"

He nodded. "Don't touch anything."

I swallowed, pulling my hand back. "See, I knew you knew stuff about magic."

Kade didn't reply. His fists curled and flexed at his sides, like he was resisting the urge to grab his sword. Then he turned away, slipping deeper into the kitchen, eyes sweeping across the space in sharp, calculated movements.

I followed, keeping a step behind, studying him.

"So, who taught you, then?" I pressed. "Part of some Thursday night spell-sharing circle? College roommate majored in Geomancy? Ex-girlfriend, maybe?"

Nothing.

I narrowed my eyes. His silence wasn't the indifferent kind—it was the withholding kind.

"Maybe it's whoever hooks you up with the magic stones for that sword of yours?" I tried again. "You never did tell me what it runs on, by the way."

Still nothing.

Kade moved into the living room with an unsettling kind of focus, scanning like a predator assessing its terrain. His gaze flicked across the shadowed corners of the bedroom in methodical movements—like he was lost in something far darker than our conversation.

I knew that look.

He was searching—or perhaps even hunting.

"Well?"

Kade's attention snapped back to me. "Well, what?"

I gave him a pointed look. "Surely someone taught you magic, you know, if not Crimson."

He lifted a brow, but the amusement didn't meet his eyes. "The way I learned was a bit…unorthodox." He headed toward the raised dais and towering shelves of bookshelves and scrolls.

Yep. He's definitely looking for something.

I followed, frustration licking into my voice. "You know, for someone with such a sharp tongue, you're disappointingly bad at using it for anything useful."

Kade huffed a laugh, scanning the shelf. "My ex-girlfriends would say otherwise."

My cheeks caught fire.

Okay. That one was my bad. I walked myself into that.

C'mon, Lace. You got this. Perhaps a different approach?

I swallowed, turning to the bookshelf beside him, pretending to study a shelf stuffed with dusty knickknacks—a plush feathered quill, a set of teacups, a thimble, and three tiny mechanical figurines. "Maybe if you tell me what you're looking for, I could help?"

Kade glanced at me, then back at the books. "Who says I'm looking for something?"

It was my turn to arch a brow.

Kade exhaled, returning to the shelves. "Answers. I'm not leaving here til I get answers."

"Ooookay." I squinted at another shelf, scanning the spines of ancient tomes and occult manuscripts—most of which looked like they'd been here longer than the building itself. "Answers, answers…"

Dangers of the Wildwaste: Life Beyond the Leylines, one read. Then Cross-Species Alchemy: An Unofficial Codex, followed by Necromancer's Guide to Defying Death, 3rd Edition.

I grimaced. "How's a how-to guide for nightmares, instead?"

Kade ignored me.

A desk caught my eye. I walked over, finding pages scattered across it, filled with scribbled notes that looked...off.

I leaned in and studied a page of sketches—intricate, detailed—of creatures I hardly recognized, forms stitched together and limbs contorted in unnatural ways. The weight of what I was looking at sank in. "Do your answers have anything to do with illegal experiments on creatures, both living... and dead?"

Kade stiffened. Nodded.

I glanced back down. Other pages were diagrams of arcane symbols and passages written in a language I couldn't make sense of. At the edges of the pages were frantic scribbles in the margins—notes about lifeblood transference and subject response.

I swallowed. This wasn't some idle research. These were field notes.

"Kade?" My voice tightened. "Tell me everything you know about Mirev. Now."

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