Chapter 34
The city lights bled into streaks of gold and red as Angel drove.
The only sounds were the hum of the engine and the low thrum of Stray Kids “Red Lights,” a song that felt too on the nose for the chaos of my life.
The grimoire from Nat was a lead weight on my lap, its cool leather a stark contrast to the simmering panic I couldn’t seem to shake.
For a few hours, I’d actually dared to hope, to believe I could find a path forward instead of just being a walking disaster.
Then, of course, reality exploded. Again. Now I was a person of interest in a cop’s murder, a guy I hadn’t even known well enough to hate. As if I’d ever use his family as fuel for some ritual to tear the world apart.
We were two blocks from my apartment when my phone erupted with the eighties pop of “Stray Cat Strut”—Ivan’s ringtone. A cold knot twisted in my gut. He should have been safe at home, lost in his webcomics.
I answered, skipping the hello. “What’s wrong?”
“Are you almost home?” His voice was tight and thin. Behind him, I could hear the unmistakable chaos of sirens and shouting. My blood ran cold. A thousand worries hit at once, from our dad coming to drag him back home to shadows rising out of the walls.
“Almost. Are you home?”
Angel’s hand landed on my knee, a brief, steadying pressure, before he slammed the accelerator.
“Yes, but you need to get here. Now.”
“Are you okay? Are you safe?” The words were sharp, fear lending them an edge. “If Xavier let anything happen to you—”
“I’m at Nikki’s,” he rushed out. “But Jude… someone was in our apartment. The door was wide open. The whole place is trashed. And there’s blood.”
“Trashed?” The word was a hollow echo. My heart hammered against my ribs. “Blood? Ivan, tell me you didn’t go inside.”
“I had to!” he protested, defensive fury in his tone. “I grabbed Peanut Butter. He was hiding under your bed, but he came when I called.”
A single, frayed thread of tension in my chest snapped. Peanut Butter was safe. I choked back a sob of relief. “He’s okay?” The second Ivan had said blood, I feared someone had murdered my cat.
“He’s fine. But Jude,” His voice cracked. “Everything’s broken. Even my new stuff.”
The ache in my chest intensified, a fresh wave of guilt. He’d just started to feel like this was home. “I’m so sorry, Ivy. I’ll replace everything, I promise.”
“The police are everywhere. The manager is screaming. But Xavier won’t let anyone talk to me until you’re here.”
“Good.” At least the creepy supernatural crime lord was upholding his end of the deal. “We’re here. Hold tight.” I hung up, eyeing the chaos with more than a little irritation.
The scene was a circus. Squad cars formed a glittering barrier around our building. We were stopped at the garage, briefly detained by stone-faced officers before being escorted through a gauntlet of stares and up to my floor.
Uniformed cops created a wall of blue down the hall. And there, leaning against the wall beside Nikki’s door with an air of profound boredom, was Xavier. The twins, Keanan and Sylas, flanked him like living shadows, a silent, impenetrable barrier standing between the world and my little brother.
Xavier’s gaze, cold and assessing, slid over the escorting officers and landed on us. With a subtle, almost imperceptible tilt of his head, the twins shifted, creating a narrow gap between them.
“Go,” Xavier said, his voice a low rumble that cut through the cacophony. “The kitten is safe.”
Angel and I slipped past the wall of muscle and into Nikki’s apartment.
The contrast was jarring. The hallway was a storm of noise and aggression; inside was a pocket of strained silence.
Nikki stood with her arms crossed, her knuckles white, her face a mask of worry.
On her couch, Ivan sat hunched over, clutching a purring Peanut Butter like a lifeline. My brother was shaking like a leaf.
“Ivy,” I breathed, my voice cracking.
He looked up, and the second our eyes met, he launched himself off the couch and into my arms. I held him tight, his face buried in my shoulder, his whole-body trembling. Peanut Butter snuggled between us. Over his head, I met Angel’s eyes, seeing my own helplessness reflected back at me.
“I’m sorry about your stuff,” I whispered into his hair.
“It’s just stuff. I was so worried about Peanut Butter. What if he got out, or they…” He shook his head, then pulled back just enough to look at me, his voice a terrified whisper. “Is Nox okay?”
I gave a tight, sure nod. “He’s with me. He’s safe.” A trickle of warmth pulsed along my spine as a reminder.
The relative peace was shattered by a new wave of shouting from the hall. The building manager’s voice, shrill and panicked, pierced the door. “—I don’t care! This is the last straw! That unit is done as of this moment! I want him and his… his menagerie out! This is a respectable building!”
A uniformed officer, looking harried, knocked on Nikki’s doorframe. “Mr. Holt? We need a statement. And we need you to take a look at the scene to answer some questions.”
“We’ll also have to interview the kid,” someone said from behind the officer.
I gave Xavier a beseeching look, and he nodded, assuring me he’d be at Ivan’s side. I turned my brother over to him, squeezed Nikki’s arm, and made my way out to face the next battle of the day, Angel at my back.
The door to my apartment gaped open, revealing a nightmare.
Furniture was slashed and overturned, stuffing leaking like entrails.
Every dish and mug was shattered on the floor.
Ivan’s new monitor was a spiderweb of cracked glass.
My books were torn, pages scattered like fallen leaves.
Slashes had been made through the carpet, and anything that could be overturned lay strewn as though a giant had swept through the place like an angry toddler.
Dark, angry splatters of blood arced across the walls, soaking the carpet so thoroughly it made a sickening, squishy sound under the booties of the forensic team. My stomach churned. There was so much of it. Who had died here to create this?
Ivan’s footprints led from my door to Nikki’s apartment, but his shoes sat abandoned on the mat. I hated to think he’d seen any of this.
Neither of us tried to step into the apartment. The forensics team already had a firm grasp on the space, dusting for prints and cataloging damage. I vaguely wondered if my insurance would cover any of it.
A detective held out two pairs of blue latex gloves and shoe coverings. “You’re the tenants?”
“I’m Agent Jude Holt, SED,” I offered. “This is my partner, Agent Angel Mao.”
“Detective Miller. Before you go in, I need you to suit up. We’re trying to keep the scene as contained as possible.
” We complied, tugging on thin plastic booties and gloves.
Miller led us just inside the doorway. “This may end up with the SED,” Miller admitted.
“This is more blood than humans contain.”
I wondered about that. “Are there bodies? It would have to be a lot for all this.” And I wondered if it was human blood or something else, like a prank with pig’s blood or something.
“It’s human,” Angel said. “Smells human to me.”
Miller met his gaze.
“Shifter variant,” Angel offered without further comment.
Miller looked to me. “Don’t suppose your middle name is Alexander?”
“Yeah, why?”
He pointed a pen toward the wall splattered with blood, a white dot illuminating a section of deep gouges beneath the mess. But the jagged scratches spelled out: Jude Alexander Holt.
“Fuck me,” I growled. “Is it that changeling again?”
“Changeling?” Miller asked.
“We rescued a kid from across the Veil, but a changeling had taken his shape on this side to fool his parents.” I didn’t add that the kid’s parents had actually summoned it because they hated their own kid so much that a demon seemed to be a better option.
“We caught the changeling at the SED, but somehow it escaped.”
“Escaped…” Miller said, his gaze returning to the mess.
Angel asked again, “Is there a body? With all this blood, there has to be a body. Maybe even several.”
Miller shook his head, a grim line forming on his lips. “No body or bodies. You’re pretty sure this is the changeling thing?”
“It’s probably worth calling the SED in on this,” Angel said, keeping me at his side just inside the doorway.
I tried to block out the ranting of the apartment manager and focus on the mess, sorting through it mentally with a reminder that it was stuff.
And stuff could be replaced. Ivan was safe.
Peanut Butter was safe. Even Nikki was safe.
The shattered picture frames broke my heart, and I wondered if I’d be able to save Nikki’s art.
But my gaze was drawn away from the blood to the far wall, opposite my bedroom door.
A single sheet of sketchbook paper was pinned to the wall with one of my large butcher knives.
Nikki’s drawing of Angel looking at me as we stood in the doorway.
Down the center, a large scratch torn through Angel and me, a deliberate gash trying to sever Angel from me.
This wasn’t just destruction. It was a message, a personal and vicious attack aimed at the bond between Angel and me. The changeling wasn’t just back; it was enraged.
My gaze scoured the room, searching for the source of its entry, when a flicker of movement in the corner by the bathroom snagged my attention. It wasn’t a person, but a shimmer in the air itself, a distortion like heat haze, pulsing with a faint, sickly purple light.
“What?” Angel whispered, his senses attuned to my slightest shift.
“Something near the bathroom,” I murmured, squinting to define it. Not a ghost. It was a wound. “It looks like that door on top of Cassidy’s building. Only faded. Barely there.” A weak spot in the Veil, a scar left behind from whatever had come through.
“Don’t say that too loud,” Angel warned under his breath.
His gaze met mine, and in that shared look, a silent agreement passed between us. This was far beyond a simple B&E.
Angel turned to Miller. “Detective, this is definitely an SED matter. The suspect is a known non-human entity with a history of violence and interdimensional activity. SED will need to secure the scene and take over the investigation. I’d offer, but as this is Jude’s apartment, we will have to recuse ourselves from this scene. ”
Miller sighed. “I’ll make the call. My crime scene techs will stand by until your people arrive.” He retreated out of the apartment, already pulling out his phone.
The moment Miller was out of earshot, Angel stepped close. “What the hell does this thing want?” he murmured, the words for me alone.
A cold knot tightened in my stomach. I was afraid I already knew the answer.
Me.
It wanted me.
The shadow thing, Cassidy, and this changeling all wanted me.