Chapter 28
Syneca
Never make a bargain with a demon, even from behind a locked door. They’ll still taste the shape of your darkest desires through the cracks.
We were three people taking an afternoon stroll.
Casual.
Controlled.
Just some passersby who had not recently stumbled onto a house full of fresh corpses.
The memory made me sick to my stomach, but I kept my pace measured, my expression blank. Just another day in the Tangles. Nothing to see here.
Pip flew beside us in tight circles, her wings beating faster than usual. The rune was working, but I could see the strain in her movements.
“Take it off for a bit,” Calder said quietly. “It’s draining your magic faster than you’re used to.”
“But what if—”
“We’re not being followed. But if we were, I’d handle it.
” His voice carried the casual authority that made arguing feel pointless.
Without saying it, he’d decided Pip was now his to protect.
Just like I had been seven years ago. And Vitoria a few years later.
And how fucking lucky were we to have such a dangerous, loyal friend?
Pip hesitated, then pulled the rune from her chest with a small gasp of relief. The concealment magic dissipated immediately, and suddenly she was fully visible again, bright blue hair and eyes, pink cheeks, wings that looked steadier already.
“I can hold it for you,” Calder offered, extending his hand.
“No, it’s fine.” She tucked it carefully into her pocket, patting it like a treasure. “I left my lucky buckle back at Chancellery House anyway. I’ve got room.”
We cut through back streets and service alleys, working our way toward the Ruby District and the second address.
The architecture changed as we moved. The Tangles’ cramped buildings and narrow passages gave way to wider streets and polished facades, the kind of neighborhood where old money lived behind pristine walls and where people minded appearances first.
Reputation was its own currency.
People watched us pass with calculating eyes. A scorched spat on the ground as we walked by, his face twisted with contempt. A lycan pulled her child closer, whispering something that made the boy stare at me with wide, frightened eyes.
Witch. The word didn’t need to be spoken.
It lingered anyway. People were getting bolder these days.
Probably all part of Tiberius’s plan to remove the witches entirely.
But he had to convince the whole world first, not just his side of Vestra.
It was pretty well known that witches weren’t welcome most places, so maybe it’d be an easy sell.
Still, the people kept their distance. The Venatori uniform helped, pressed fabric that marked us as the Magistrate’s chosen hunters.
Calder’s presence helped more. He moved with a gait that suggested violence wasn’t just possible but inevitable, and people usually responded by finding somewhere else to be.
We turned a corner and nearly walked straight into a group of heretics, though. Three of them this time, huddled against a building and holding each other upright. They had ragged robes, wild eyes, and that manic energy that came from feeding faith but not the belly.
One of them was openly smoking a twisted roll of dreamleaf and ashroot, the acrid smell making my eyes water. The mixture was illegal for good reason—a powerful hallucinogenic that made reality feel negotiable and truth optional.
“The Garden of Sorrows,” the man with the roll was saying, his words slurred and dreamy. “That’s where they keep them. In Esara. All the captured lycan, chained up for the nymphs’ pleasure.”
“I’ve seen it,” the second heretic agreed, nodding so hard her hood fell back, revealing black, matted hair. “In my dreams. The crying. The chains. The—”
The third one, a woman with hollow cheeks and scars covering half her face, suddenly started screaming. “I’m burning! Can’t you see? I’m burning alive!” She clawed at her arms, her chest, her face. “Where is it? Where? My Life Rune! She took it and now I’m—”
Pip swooped in before I could stop her, hovering directly in front of the woman’s face. “It’s right here! See? Around your neck!”
The woman’s frantic movements stilled. Her eyes focused on the leather cord around her throat, the small carved rune hanging from it. Her breathing slowed. “Oh. Oh, here it is. The Phoenix wouldn’t kill me anyway. She only takes the guilty. Only the ones who deserve fire.”
Pip smiled reluctantly. “I don’t think that’s how the Burning works.”
The woman grimaced, vacant and terrible, and then reached into her pocket. Quick as a snake, she flipped something small and shiny toward Pip.
The sprite’s eyes lit up. She caught it mid-air with a delighted squeak, spinning in a complete circle before shoving it into her pocket with her new rune.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you! It’s so pretty and—”
“Pip Squeak.” Calder’s hand found her tiny side gently but firmly, steering her away from the heretics who were now trying to pull her into their circle. “Don’t listen to them. Last week they were trying to convince everyone the ground was crying from too much ash smoke.”
“But she gave me—”
“I know. We have to keep moving.”
Pip allowed herself to be guided away, though she kept glancing down at the shiny thing in her pocket with obvious delight.
We left the heretics to their visions, drugs and their desperate attempts to make sense of a world that stopped making sense years ago.
“I’ve been thinking. Why can’t we just ask the Oracle where the Phoenix is?” Pip asked once we put distance between us and the group. “I mean, she sees things, right? Couldn’t she just... look?”
“She tries every day,” Calder said. His voice held something I couldn’t quite name.
Respect maybe, or frustration? “I’ve been discussing it with her.
But she can’t control the visions. They come when they come, show what they show.
It’s not like looking through a window where you can just point your gaze wherever you want. ”
“Oh.” Pip’s wings drooped slightly. “That doesn’t sound helpful at all.”
“Because it’s not,” I agreed.
The second address was easier to find than the first. A simple two-story house with a little iron fence around the small yard.
We were almost there when Calder’s hand shot out, stopping us. A woman was leaving the house. She wore dark blue healer robes, silver trimmed at the collar and cuffs, and the Magistrate’s emblem pinned near the chest.
She was a witch who worked for Tiberius. One I recognized from the Chancellery, though I didn’t know her name, of course. We were discouraged from talking to each other.
We pressed back into a doorway, waiting. She walked past without seeing us, her face troubled, her hands clutching a leather satchel like it contained something precious or dangerous. Or both.
When she turned the corner, disappearing from sight, we approached the door.
It opened before we could knock.
An elderly man stood in the doorway; his face lined with pain and exhaustion. A bandage wrapped around his throat, white cloth already seeping red at the edges.
“More visitors,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Furies’ blessings, the Venatori! Come in then.”
The house was simple. Clean but worn. Well cared for furniture that couldn’t hide its age. Books on shelves that looked actually read rather than decorative... the smell of healing salves and old blood.
“I’m sure you’ve heard there was an attack,” he said, lowering himself carefully into a chair.
“Two nights ago. The hunters would have me believe it was monsters that crossed the walls. Border breach. Random violence.” He touched his throat gently.
“But I know it wasn’t. Forgive me. I am Darius Holt. ”
“Calder Grimm, sir. And these are my associates, Syneca Black and Pip Willowbend. Thank you for welcoming us.” Calder sat on the edge of the deep couch, leaning forward to clasp his hands. “Do you mind if we ask a few questions? Obviously we understand if it’s not a good time.”
Pip and I took the cue from Calder and settled in, me beside him and Pip landed right on the arm of Darius’s chair, letting her wings drop as she looked up at the old man with giant, welling eyes. She might’ve played that card a little too strong, but the old man just smiled down at her.
He gestured weakly to the modest room around us.
“I understand the need for an investigation. I worked for years alongside the previous Magistrate as an advisor. The last witch on any council,” he added with a note of pride that couldn’t quite hide the bitterness underneath.
“Before Tiberius Veyne decided witches were better suited for service than counsel.”
That would explain the visit from Tiberius’s witch. She was checking on a former advisor who’d survived an attack. Or checking to make sure he’d stay quiet about what he’d seen.
“What brings the Venatori to my door?”
Pip opened her mouth to answer, but I spoke first. “You know of the blood oath the Venatori took?” I asked.
“Of course. Venatori are bound in a blood oath whenever there’s vengeance to be paid for a Fury. Ancient tradition. Only this time you’re hunting the Phoenix. Heard she killed the Mistress of Blades after failing to kill the Oracle.”
“So we’re told.” I kept my voice neutral. “We’re following a lead. If you’re feeling up to it, we hope we can rely on your discretion in the matter.”
Darius studied us for a long moment. Then nodded slowly.
“Ask your questions. I’ve kept secrets for two Magistrates, I can keep a few more.
The Magistrate’s witch had very specific ideas about what happened here.
She seemed less interested in the truth than in making sure I agreed with the official story. ”
Calder and I exchanged a glance.
“Tell us what really happened,” Calder said quietly.