Chapter 3 #2
Carnell smiled. “I have plenty of shame. I just don’t display it.”
Eve’s mouth twitched, and she looked away quickly like she refused to enjoy his nonsense.
I cleared my throat. “We’re here for cars, right. Not… whatever this is.”
Carnell spread his arms. “This is taste.”
Faith snorted. “This is a cry for help.”
Carnell placed a hand on his chest. “Granddaughter. You wound me.”
Faith didn’t respond, but the corner of her mouth lifted for half a second. It was so fast it could have been imagined.
Carnell moved with purpose now, crossing the room to a side table where his phone sat. He tapped the screen and lifted it to his ear.
“Drin,” he said, voice smooth. “I need two vehicles in the back alley. Now. Clean, unmarked. Make them blend.”
He paused, listening, then smiled.
“No, do not bring the red one. I don’t care if it’s your favorite.”
Carnell ended the call and looked pleased with himself. “They’ll have two SUVs waiting.”
He gestured toward a hallway and started walking, confident, as if he weren’t in a building that probably had three secret exits and a panic room labeled something obnoxious like Pleasure Dungeon.
We followed.
The elevator was sleek, quiet, and absurdly clean. Carnell pressed the button without looking, like the elevator had never once dared to disobey him. The doors slid shut.
As we descended, my stomach did that strange floaty drop, like it couldn’t decide if it hated portal travel more or elevators.
I glanced at Eve, because my brain had finally latched onto the detail that mattered.
“Andel,” I said. “Tell me about him.”
Eve’s eyes shifted toward me. Her fingers brushed her amethyst again, a small tell that she didn’t like the topic.
“He’s a metallurgist,” she said. “A real one. Not a hobbyist who melts down jewelry in a pot and calls it magic.”
Faith’s brows lifted. “You’ve met those?”
Eve’s expression went flat. “Yes.”
I fought a smile.
Eve continued, voice calm. “He does metalwork for wards. Reinforcements. Specialty pieces. Sometimes for weapons, but he avoids the aggressive stuff. He says metal holds memory. He treats it like it’s alive.”
I nodded. That made sense. Some practitioners treated elements like tools. Others treated them like allies.
“And the necromancy?” I prompted.
Eve sighed, quiet. “He has it. He knows it. He doesn’t use it unless he has to. He says death magic is a debt that always collects interest.”
Faith looked toward Eve, something like respect flickering. “That’s not a bad philosophy.”
Eve’s mouth tightened. “It’s also why he stays out of coven politics. He doesn’t trust the council. He doesn’t trust power-hungry warlocks. He doesn’t trust Lucinda.”
I snorted softly. “Smart man.”
The elevator dinged, and the doors slid open into a ground-level hallway that smelled of cleaning solution and something sugary, like someone’s perfume had spilled and never left.
Carnell led us toward a back exit. But he motioned for us to go ahead, he placed his hand on the door that led to the gate. “I will leave you here.”
As we approached the alley door, Faith shifted closer to him. “You sure you will be safe?”
Carnell glanced at her, and for a moment the flirtation dropped out of his face. Something older showed, something protective.
“As safe as anything tonight,” he said quietly. “Stay alert.”
Faith’s jaw tightened. “Always.”
We stepped into the alley.
Two SUVs waited, engines off, parked close enough to the wall to stay out of the street’s main sightlines. Under the dim light, two figures stood near the driver’s side doors.
They were identical. Same height, same build, same pale skin that looked almost gray in the shadow. Long dark hair, eyes too bright.
Doppelgangers.
“Ladies,” one said.
Faith smiled warmly at them. “Thanks boys.”
They handed her the key fobs in perfect synchronization.
She turned to us. “Nishi take one and grab Tegan. Salima, Eve, you’re with me.”
Nishi’s voice came from behind us. “I’ll meet you at Andel’s.”
Faith looked up. “You got the address?”
“I did,” I said.
Faith looked at me. “Good. Just making sure you weren’t distracted by undead.”
I stared at her. “I was chased by a corpse in a bathrobe. Forgive me if my schedule management is off.”
Eve snorted, quick and quiet.
Faith’s expression softened a fraction. “Get in.”
We split.
Nishi slid into the driver’s seat of the first vehicle and pulled out with smooth efficiency, disappearing around the corner.
Eve, and I climbed into the second SUV.
Faith took the driver’s seat. Eve sat behind her. I slid into the front passenger seat and tried not to think about how quickly my life had shifted from “quiet basement suite” to “field mission with people who could kill me with a glance.”
Faith started the engine.
“What’s the plan once we get there?” Eve asked.
“We talk,” Faith said. “We listen. We try not to die.”
“Solid,” I said. “Very detailed.”
Faith glanced at me. “You want more detail.”
“Yes,” I said. “I like details. Details keep you alive. Details also keep me from spiraling into the thought that I might end up as a snack.”
Faith’s mouth tightened. “Fine. We get answers from Andel. If he’s involved, we restrain him. If he isn’t, we use his knowledge to identify what’s different. If it’s an artifact, we need Tegan. If it’s a tether, we need to find the hand holding it.”
I exhaled. “Good. That’s better.”
We pulled out of the alley and into the city streets.
Ravenholde looked like it had been dropped into a disaster movie.
Police lights flashed in the distance, blue and red streaking across storefronts.
Sirens wailed, overlapping, then fading, then returning.
Cars crawled through intersections like confused insects.
People stood in clusters on sidewalks, phones out, pointing, talking too fast.
That, right there, was the real nightmare.
Not the undead.
The mundanes.
Because once mundanes got a story in their heads, it was like trying to stop a stampede with a polite request. They wanted answers. They wanted explanations. They wanted someone to blame. They wanted to film it, package it, share it.
I pressed my forehead to the cool window for a second. The glass vibrated with road noise.
I turned toward the driver’s seat. “Do you think Andel will help?”
“Yes,” Faith said, without hesitation.
I blinked. “That was confident.”
Faith’s eyes stayed on the road. “He respects Eve. He doesn’t like Lucinda. He doesn’t like Caton. He doesn’t like being dragged into council games. But he won’t ignore this.”
Eve nodded slowly. “He and I… we’ve dealt with each other. He’s not cruel. He’s just careful.”
I glanced at Eve. “Careful sounds great. I would love careful right now.”
Faith made a low sound. “Careful people are the ones who survive.”
We drove past a group of mundanes gathered outside a coffee shop, of all places. Someone clutched a latte like caffeine could shield them from the undead. A man waved his arms, talking animatedly, his phone held high.
Eve’s voice was quiet. “They’re going to spread this everywhere.”
“I know,” I said. “And at some point someone is going to say it’s fake, and someone else is going to say it’s real, and they’ll fight about it until the truth gets buried.”
Faith’s mouth tightened. “Good. Let them fight. As long as they stop running into the street.”
I swallowed, because I could still see that corpse in my mind. The way it moved like it was pulled. The way it recovered too fast. The way my magic had hit it and it barely cared.
Normal undead did not do that.
We turned onto an industrial stretch, away from the prettier parts of town, away from boutiques and cafés and restaurants that pretended Ravenholde was charming instead of dangerous. Here, the buildings were squat and practical. Old brick. Metal siding. Faded signs.
Faith slowed as we approached a converted warehouse. The kind of place you would expect to find a mechanic, a welder, or a man who made questionable life choices in the name of art.
A single light hung over the main door. The glow was harsh, illuminating the painted numbers on the wall and the glint of metal stacked inside through a grimy window.
“This is it,” Faith said.
My stomach tightened. “It looks welcoming.”
Eve snorted softly. “That’s the point. People don’t bother you when you look like you might have bodies in barrels.”
“Comforting,” I muttered.
Faith parked near the curb, engine still running. “Stay alert.”
I nodded, even though my alertness was already maxed out. If it went higher, I was going to start vibrating.
We got out.
The air smelled different here. Oil and metal. A tang like burned stone. The kind of scent that clung to your clothes and refused to leave.
Faith walked up first, hand near her belt, posture controlled. Eve followed, shoulders squared, expression neutral. I trailed behind them, because if I went first, I would probably trip and die of embarrassment before the undead could get me.
Faith knocked once. Hard.
A pause.
Then the door opened.
Andel Laine filled the doorway like a wall.
Tall. Broad shouldered. Viking-like was the perfect description, not because he wore a helmet, but because he had that carved-out-of-stone presence.
Silver hair, a bit longer than most men his age would dare, pulled back loosely.
Brown eyes intelligent and wary. He wore a dark shirt with rolled sleeves, forearms strong, hands marked with scars that looked like they came from hot metal and sharp edges.
His gaze landed on Faith first, then moved to me, then paused on Eve.
Something shifted. Not warmth, exactly. Recognition. Respect.
“Eve,” he said.
“Andel,” Eve replied.
His eyes narrowed slightly, then flicked behind us as if he expected a council entourage to spill into the alley. “This isn’t a social call.”
Faith’s tone stayed flat. “No.”
Andel’s gaze returned to Eve. “What’s wrong?”
Eve’s fingers touched her amethyst once, then dropped. “We have undead in the streets.”
Andel didn’t react right away. He just stared, then leaned forward slightly, like he needed to be sure he heard her correctly.