Chapter 12
Iris
After I change into my training clothes, I make my way toward the library.
Noah can wait. I wanted to do this the second I entered through the massive doors of the compound.
However, Grayson’s meeting and my nerves held me back.
I can’t shake Adramelech’s words off anymore, though, like I’ve been doing all week.
They sink their hooks in me with every second that passes.
There’s a ledger Lucifer likes to keep with every single hellseeker death caused by a demon since the initiation of the Order. Your mother’s name is not there. I would know; I’m the one writing in it.
My footsteps reverberate loudly in the vast space as I stride toward my aunt.
She’s perched on a ladder, sliding books back into their place on the intricate white shelves.
The sun’s rays filtering through the stained-glass windows illuminate her form, and I have to blink a few times to adjust to the bright light when I look up.
She casts me a glance. “Iris, dear. I’ve missed you. I haven’t seen you all week.”
“Hey, Auntie. I’ve been busy.” Busy wallowing in my self-pity.
The thing I’m most ashamed of—on top of not even trying to stretch or train these past few days—is that I didn’t have it in me to go on my shifts.
I would have continued rotting in bed if it weren’t for Sam.
Thank God I have her. I can’t believe I’ve missed six shifts in a row.
I guess my truancy is ending now, though.
I’ll have an assigned partner to keep me accountable.
“Can you pass me those two books at the top of the pile?”
“Sure,” I say and approach the cart, then stretch to hand her the books she asked for.
“Thanks! It shouldn’t take me more than an hour to put all these away if you want to grab lunch.”
“Um…that’s not why I’m here. I need to check something on one of the computers.”
She offers a smile, but it’s tinged with disappointment. “Oh, I see. ’Kay, then. Holler if you need anything.”
“I will,” I say over my shoulder, passing the six grand cupolas, which depict the imperial court of Elysium and its riches.
It’s the first time I don’t take a few seconds to marvel at the artistry behind each brush stroke.
It must be the result of feeling like my organs are wilting slowly one by one.
When you’re dead inside, the outside world loses its importance.
I stop at the computer near the windows and sit down on the chair, then turn it on.
Just like human law enforcement agencies, the Order has its own software to manage demon reports and all types of files about hellseekers and the other lightborn.
After Grayson questions us about our shifts, his job is to write up a summary and file each one.
Tim scans them to later introduce the data or appropriate files into the system.
We usually go over them in debriefs in our weekly meetings.
I don’t envy Grayson’s job as the head of the Order.
I mean, sure, it gives him a lot of power and influence, but it’s boring as fuck.
I type my unique username and password into the portal to which only hellseekers have access.
When it loads, I search for my mother’s name.
Her file appears on the screen. I click on it.
I suck in a shaky breath as I pass her photo and all the standard data from the date of birth to when she left the Order.
However, when I reach the last page where the report of her death should be, there’s only a big red stamp that says “CLASSIFIED.”
In all these years, I haven’t looked at the file.
I had no reason to, really—I trusted Grayson and the Order with every fiber of my being.
And he had shown it to me in the hospital after the accident.
Granted, I was just a kid and still high as fuck on pain meds.
He took out the photos for obvious reasons, but even with the state of my addled brain back then, I can still remember the words written under the cause of death: inflicted wounds by an unknown demon.
Now that I think about it, to my knowledge, a hellseeker’s death is described in detail. I once saw Grayson write a three-page summary. It was after one of our rare group missions had gone to shit, and Dave—Tessa’s boyfriend at the time—was killed by a ghoul. My mother’s was one sentence.
Just to make sure, I search the system for Dave’s file, then two others. Not only was I right, but there’s also a thorough autopsy report to accompany each of Grayson’s. My mother was not a hellseeker anymore or part of the Order, but still. I feel like I’m the biggest fool on planet Earth.
Was her file always confidential? If that’s the case, then how come Grayson was allowed to show it to me at the hospital?
Or did they restrict it after? All of these questions ricochet around my skull at the speed of light, intensifying the usual pounding behind my eyes to the point where I feel on the verge of throwing up.
And the most important question of all: Why classify it at all?
The need to know the truth is like fire ants crawling beneath my skin. As much as I avoided Grayson until now, he’s the only one who can provide answers. Everything is a blur as I shut down the computer and make my way to his office.
I knock three times.
“Come in.”
When I enter, Grayson looks at me over the rim of his large cup of coffee.
He takes a sip before saying. “Iris, to what do I owe this pleasure?” His tone is distant.
He’s always been stern, but ever since the umbra attack, his demeanor toward me has only gotten colder.
I imagine his suspicion hasn’t lessened one bit, especially after Erik’s disappearance. He doesn’t even invite me to sit.
I clear my throat. “I was looking into my mother’s file in the hellseeker portal, but her death is deemed top secret. Why?”
His shrewd eyes examine me for a few seconds. “You know I can’t answer that. It’s way above your pay grade.”
“But, when did the Council restrict it?” I huff. “I remember you showing it to me at the hospital when you first visited.”
He sets the coffee down. “Iris, I showed it to you as a courtesy before it got filed because I wanted you to know the truth. Your mother’s death was closed to anyone but higher-ups from the very beginning.
” Steepling his hands on the cherry wood desk, he asks, “Why look at it now, after so much time has passed?”
Fuck.
In my desperation to get here, I didn’t prepare a reply, even if him asking this was a given. I resist the urge to wipe my sweat-slicked palms on my leggings.
Think, Iris, think!
“Well, I had a flashback of the accident for the first time in eight years. It was short, though. We were rolling into the canyon, and then I woke up. I wanted to see if maybe looking at the file would help me remember more.”
“I see. That’s not possible, unfortunately.”
I know I’m stepping on his toes, but I have to at least try. “Can’t I have a quick look? I mean, I’ve already seen it—”
“You’ve got some nerve asking me to bend the rules. Rules are for everybody. And as much as you think they don’t apply to you, our covenants are sacred to me.”
I almost get frostbite from the iciness in his tone. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. Thank you for your time.” I scamper out of there, my insides turned to a block of ice because even though I don’t have enough proof right now, I can’t escape the feeling that Adramelech was telling the truth.
The Order is hiding something…but I don’t know how I can get my hands on my mother’s file.
If it were in Grayson’s office, I would break in to get it.
However, the Aureal Council keeps all classified documents at a secret location.
The heads of the Orders in each city have to make a special request to get access to them.
This only strengthens my resolve that my top priority is finding evidence against Erik.
Not to present it to the Aureal Council but to the human police.
If they can bury my mother’s death, they can bury his crimes.
Which is not fair to his victims or their families.
This would also be my first line of defense if they ever find out I killed him.
However, as I scroll through the new schedule Tim just sent, I realize that for the next three weeks, I don’t have even one free day.
Shit. And the first place I need to search is Erik and Britney’s apartment.
But the only time I know for certain she won’t be home for several hours is when she’s on a shift.
Which, of course, coincides with mine. I’m also paired with Tessa for the first week, then with Veronica, and to top it all off, Britney is next. It’s like Grayson did it on purpose.
I can’t wait that long. There’s no other way…I have to ask Noah for help.
Entering the first training room, I look around for Noah.
I spot him in the far-left side corner, the muscles in between his shoulder blades dancing with each speedy jab he sends flying at the punching bag.
The sound of him pummeling the shit out of it echoes in waves, covering the noise made by the hellseekers occupying the training mats.
He looks as if he’s trying to exorcise some inner demons.
The smell of fresh sweat and the lavender of the cleaning products mingle as I make my way to him, spine rod-straight.
“Hey, Iris. Haven’t seen you in a while,” Ezekiel says while tilting his chin mid-stretch, making me flinch. I was so focused on Noah I didn’t even notice him.
I stop in my tracks. “Hey, Zeke. Yeah…I um…”
He raises an eyebrow as he pushes up from the mat on the floor, his taut tawny skin on display since he is shirtless. “You were trying to avoid a certain someone?” He’s not subtle at all when he flicks his gaze toward Noah.