Chapter 25 Syneca
Syneca
A lycan who offers you their blade has decided you’re worth protecting. Refuse, and you’ll never see them again. Accept, and you’ll never be alone in battle.
Chancellery House settled into uneasy quiet after midnight, with most of its inhabitants asleep, or pretending to be.
I moved through the corridors with Silas at my side, his smaller form padding silently beside me.
Once I left the third-floor hall, I cast Silentii, weaving the spell around us like a cloak.
The magic responded sluggishly. I’d clearly pushed myself too hard today.
But it held, muffling our footsteps as we crept out of the building and into the yard.
I’d have been lying if I said I wasn’t terrified.
If I’d said Calder hadn’t begged me to change my mind.
But sitting stagnant when a countdown clock was ticking just didn’t sit right with me.
After we met with the team, Calder and I had met alone.
There was a huge piece of the puzzle we were missing.
We might be able to find Vitoria. Might even be able to get us all out of the city.
But if we didn’t find a way to break the Venatori blood oath, we still couldn’t escape death.
So on top of needing to find Vitoria, mislead the hunt, and keep my identity secret—and not having a complete breakdown—I needed to know how to break the damned oath.
A task Calder had agreed to start working on while I focused on the hunt.
Crimson died tracing three letters in the air.
Whatever it meant, he’d thought it worth his final breath.
And I was done waiting for answers. Even if the only thing I could think to do with the tiny clue was a very illegal and dangerous break-in of our government records. This would probably be fine...
The corridor stretched ahead, dimly lit by enchanted lanterns that never needed oil. My own runework, no doubt. Years of my life poured into this building, strengthening its wards, making it impenetrable.
The irony wasn’t lost on me.
But if anyone could break in, it was the witch who always left an open door for herself. That’s why Calder had ultimately agreed it had to be me.
Silas’s hackles rose. A heartbeat later, I heard it too—the soft pad of paws on the manicured lawn. From the shadows ahead, a creature emerged that made my breath catch. Until familiar eyes met mine.
Wickett’s cinderhowl materialized from the shadows as if he’d been carved from the darkness.
Massive didn’t cover it. His shoulders came up to my chest, easily the size of a massive stag, muscle rippling beneath fur that matched the pitch of midnight.
The long tufts on his ears did nothing to hide the two arched horns.
When he moved, the grass compressed silently beneath paws the size of my thighs.
His eyes found mine. Yellow. Unblinking.
Then, his head tilted.
The tension in his shoulders eased by a fraction. His muzzle wrinkled, but the lips didn’t peel back to reveal teeth, instead, his nose lifted, scenting the air. Testing.
He remembered me.
Because this wasn’t our first meeting. I’d spent my fair share of time lurking in the kennels over the years, even though this particular beast had only been there for a handful of days almost three years ago.
I’d taken extra care with him then. The Ripper’s monster, the most feared, the one everyone whispered about with dread.
My scent was all over that place—bread soaked in broth, extra portions slipped through bars, gentle words spoken when no one else was watching.
I’d been feeding the hunters’ hounds for almost a decade behind their backs.
The cinderhowl took another step forward, and this time when the growl came, it wasn’t a threat.
It was a greeting.
His massive head lowered slightly, and before I could stop myself, I reached out. He closed the distance, pressing his muzzle into my palm with enough force to make me stumble back. Warm breath ghosted across my skin as he snuffed once, twice, confirming what his nose had already told him.
“Easy, puppy,” I said quietly, keeping my voice steady despite my racing heart. “Who’s a good boy?”
Silas responded by lowering his head in silent respect. He knew how this worked.
“Well, that’s unexpected,” Wickett’s voice came from the darkness behind his beast.
Right on schedule.
“Don’t distract him or he’ll bite my hand off,” I said, lacing a modicum of fear into my voice for show. “But I think he’s sweet.”
“Timber killed three handlers before me.”
“Then they weren’t treating him right.” I met those yellow eyes, saw intelligence beneath the trained violence. “Were they, Timber?”
The cinderhowl made a sound, not quite a growl, more like acknowledgment.
Wickett stepped into the light, and even through the darkness I could see his unamused expression.
He’d changed from his formal uniform into something simpler, a dark shirt and leather vest, with boots made for silence rather than show.
His hair was loose for once, falling just past his shoulders.
Without the severe styling his father demanded, he looked younger.
Less like the Ripper and more like a man standing in the yard in moonlight.
His brows drew together, smoothing out almost immediately as his gaze moved from the cinderhowl to my face.
Lingered there. His head tilted slightly, studying me with an intensity that made my skin warm despite the midnight chill.
Then his jaw tightened, and something different flickered across his features, gone so fast I almost convinced myself I imagined it.
I tried very hard not to notice, because noticing meant acknowledging that Wickett Veyne was, objectively, devastatingly attractive.
Strong jaw. Sharp cheekbones. Dark lashes that made women everywhere envious.
Those pale gray eyes that tracked movement like a predator, but that sometimes, like now, held something softer underneath.
Dangerous. That’s what he was. Dangerous in more ways than one.
“You planned this,” he said. Not a question.
I forced myself to look away, back at Timber, who was still leaning into my touch. Safer that way. Less complicated.
My voice came out steadier than I felt. “Can’t have you catching me breaking and entering without giving you the option to stop me first.”
Giving away the plan was a test on its own. Would he condemn me right here and now? As angry as he seemed at first, I couldn’t put it past him.
But I needed to know how far he’d come to our side. There was no way he’d let Vitoria go when we caught her, he wasn’t ready for the ground to shift that much under his feet.
“And if I had sent Timber to attack instead of investigate?” He said carefully enough to make me wonder how close he’d been to deciding differently.
“Then Silas would have torn him apart, and we’d both have bigger problems.” I gave the horned beast one final scratch before stepping back. “But I had a feeling you’d be curious about what I was doing. Now, if you don’t mind, we should probably find better cover.”
Wickett studied me for a long moment. Then, impossibly, he relented, dismissing the cinderhowl with a gesture. Timber stalked off without protest, and we moved in the opposite direction, falling into darker shadows outside the main building.
“This is the worst idea you’ve had yet, Syneca Black.”
“If you’re going to be negative, bring the puppy back. An emotional support beast trumps a moody hunter.”
“That puppy was pulled from the Ash,” Wickett replied, moving closer. “He’s a monster, not a loyal pet.”
“Maybe not everything lurking in the Ash is actually a monster.” I met his eyes. “Maybe some of them just need someone to see past the teeth.”
His jaw tightened. I wondered if he knew I wasn’t talking about the hound anymore.
“Breaking into my father’s office is a terrible idea,” he said quietly, circling back to a safer topic. “One I can’t officially sanction.”
“But?”
“But even I have to admit we have no other leads, and he seems to know more than he’s sharing.
If he didn’t want us doing everything at our disposal, he shouldn’t have arranged for our lives to be tied to progress on stopping the Phoenix.
” He paused. “Those three letters. DEC. What if he wasn’t finished?
What if it’s the beginning of a name? Or another word entirely? We need more to go on.”
“Exactly. We can’t do anything with three letters.
I think they are initials because that’s what he was told to try.
But even then, there are probably hundreds of people in this city alone with those three.
Definitely more throughout Vestra, and Furies help us if we have to consider all of Fuerlis. I need something else.”
“And you think you’ll find it in his office?”
“I think if I don’t look, I’ll spend the next twenty-five days wondering what I missed.”
Wickett’s expression shifted, softened. “The main records room is easier to access. Less chance of getting caught.”
“You’re helping me?” I had only hoped he wouldn’t stop me.
“I’m keeping you from getting killed while doing something foolish.” But his mouth curved slightly. “There’s a difference.”
Getting into the building with Wickett Veyne was far too easy. I left Silas outside to keep guard, and we simply walked through a side door after he used his magic to activate a rune made from lulurastone. The records room was exactly as oppressive as I remembered.
And... well, massive didn’t begin to cover it. The space stretched upward into a looming darkness easily five stories tall, with rows upon rows of filing cabinets that seemed like they had to contain every record since the last Burning over five hundred years ago.
Floating platforms drifted at various heights, allowing access to the upper levels. And, covering every available surface from the walls to the ceilings to the cabinet faces, were runes.
Thousands of them. Tens of thousands.