Chapter Eleven
We dropped off Jace near my house, where his motorcycle was parked, and I thanked him for his help and support.
“You’re welcome, but you’re not getting rid of me that easily. I’ll keep this stone safe for now, and I’ll see you soon.” He patted his pocket with the Rootstone as he threw a leg over his bike and pulled on a helmet.
“Jace, you don’t need to stick around for this,” I said, leaning out my open window.
“Of course I’m sticking around. Can’t leave you and Owen to have all the fun rescuing Charles. Besides, we never leave a man behind.” He started the engine and drove off with a final wave.
“He’s a good friend,” I said in the sudden quiet.
“The best,” Owen agreed.
“So what does having an official bodyguard mean exactly?”
“Someone like you, who’s been attacked twice now, would have a 24/7 detail. Different bodyguards, of course, working on a schedule, but since we’re dealing with magical shit we don’t understand, I think it’s best if I handle this one myself. We’re sticking together, Kira.”
I hoped I didn’t look as eager as I felt. “All day and all—?”
“Night. Yes.”
“What about your work?”
“Already cleared my schedule. One of the perks of being the boss is that I can delegate.”
“I have classes.” I might be training to veil-walk, but I couldn’t stop work on my thesis or ignore my teaching responsibilities. I still needed a job when all this was over.
“I’ll be with you for those,” Owen said with a shrug, like upending his life wasn’t a big deal. “Where you go, I go. Except you’ll need to come with me to the gym a few times a week. I can’t let that slide.”
“Thank you.” I was flooded with relief that I wouldn’t be alone for whatever happened next.
But a part of me hesitated. What if I got used to having Owen in my life?
Eventually he would leave—everyone did. I did my best to push that thought away.
My life was in danger, and I needed Owen’s protection.
As long as I didn’t act on any feelings that had, admittedly, already developed, I could protect my heart while we worked together to find Charles.
Pleased that I had a plan where Owen and I were concerned, I asked, “So, what should we do now?”
“Practically speaking, we need groceries, and I need to pack an overnight bag since I’ll be staying at your place.”
“Agreed,” I said. “But I’d like to search Charles’s research papers one more time. Just in case we missed something. I hate not doing something useful to find him.”
“You’re doing plenty, Kira. Never think otherwise.”
“Thanks, but I’m not ready for groceries just yet.”
He smiled. “Fair enough. Let’s go.”
But as we climbed the stairs to Charles’s house, I slowed. The front door stood ajar, the lock clearly broken.
Owen’s hand closed around my arm before I could take another step. Whatever protest I had died on my lips the second I saw his face.
“Back,” he said. It wasn’t a suggestion. “I go first.”
Owen’s eyes were fixed on the doorway as he listened and my heart hammered. He kept to the side of the frame as he pushed open the door a fraction wider, just enough to check inside.
“No…” I said when he let me see what awaited us.
After Owen, Jace, and I had searched Charles’s research notes, we’d returned every item to where we found it. Now, books and papers were scattered across the floor and coffee table, and the artifact cases had been left open.
“They were looking for something,” I whispered, and Owen nodded grimly.
He cleared each space room by room while I followed close behind, noting with dismay how every drawer and closet in the house had been searched.
“They knew exactly what they wanted,” he said at last, his voice tight.
“Yeah. But did they find it?”
We decided to check my house next. I kept telling myself it would be fine. Yes, someone had broken into Charles’s place. Yes, I had been targeted in the park. That didn’t mean my house had been searched as well.
But the front door sat ajar, the lock broken, too.
Owen guided me behind him once more.
“I need to see.” I could barely speak the words.
“I know.”
Again, he waited and listened before slowly pushing the door open. As we entered, I took everything in at once.
My few pieces of furniture had been shifted, and the books on my shelves and tables had been rearranged and restacked haphazardly. My laptop had been moved but not stolen.
But when we climbed the stairs to my bedroom, I froze in the doorway. The closet doors were open. Clothes parted. Boxes askew.
They had touched my things. My private things. In my space. A cold wave rolled through me, and my stomach heaved.
“Fuck,” Owen cursed, his voice harsh.
This violation felt intimate in the worst way. Like invisible hands had sifted through my entire life. Even the duvet on my bed was rumpled.
“They were here.” My voice sounded small.
Owen stood beside me, not crowding but close enough that I could feel the steady heat of him. “You’re not staying here, Kira. Grab what you need. You’ll sleep at my place.” Again, it wasn’t a suggestion, but I had no intention of arguing. Staying here was an impossibility.
We didn’t bother calling the police. They would have asked about Charles’s whereabouts, and how could we explain that he had been pulled through a portal? We gleaned whatever clues we could, determined that nothing had been taken from my place, and booked a cleaning company for both houses.
By the time we finished and picked up groceries, it was early evening.
The overcast sky made the outside world even darker, and all I could see was my worried reflection staring back in the car window.
Exhaustion, doubts, and fears weighed me down.
A world of shadowy wraiths and Veil Walkers dragged me ever closer to an unknown finish line, and I wished with all my heart that I was back in Charles’s house, looking through his old boxes and living vicariously through his stories.
But Charles was nowhere near his living room.
He was counting on me to bring him back. Everyone was.
When we arrived at Owen’s condo, he disappeared into his bedroom.
“I’ll just be a minute,” he called out. “Make yourself at home.”
I wandered around, noting how similar Owen’s home was to his place of work. His living space was sleek, minimalist, and functional, with large windows overlooking the city skyline.
The living room was sparsely furnished with a charcoal sectional, a low coffee table, and a wall-mounted tv flanked by built-in shelves holding a few books and security manuals.
The only personal items I could see were two framed pictures.
One showed Owen and Jace in their army uniforms, arms around each other as they laughed.
The other picture, tucked behind the first, featured a teenaged Owen, two adults, and a younger girl on a beach somewhere, holding hands and walking toward the camera.
I recognized Owen’s father, although the photo version of him seemed much more carefree than the grey-haired man I’d glimpsed two months ago.
The woman was most likely Owen’s mother.
He hadn’t spoken about her much except to say his parents were divorced.
The girl was probably Owen’s sister. I recalled the photo I had seen of Marion with two children.
Strange that Owen had never mentioned having a sibling.
At the sight of such a happy family, a pang of longing shot through me. My parents and I had been close, and I remembered what it felt like to have people who loved me. I also knew all too well the devastation of losing that love.
I peeked at a kitchen that was the complete opposite to mine, its sharp knives perfectly aligned on a magnetic strip, the kitchen island immaculately clean.
Only one appliance had the honour of taking up any real estate on his counter—a heavy-duty blender, probably for daily protein shakes.
To complete the orderly scene, a tea towel hung perfectly folded over the oven door handle.
I continued my tour until I found Owen changing the sheets on his bed, then silently retraced my steps before he could catch me spying. But my brief glimpse told me the room was spartan with only a king-size bed and end tables. Blackout curtains hung from the windows.
I sank onto the couch, my arms and legs feeling like lead weights, and told myself I would only close my eyes for a minute.
I was vaguely aware of strong arms slipping under me and picking me up.
I knew I was dreaming, but I snuggled into the warmth of a hard chest anyway and smiled.
I’d missed the feeling of being held by someone who cared for me.
But all too soon, I was placed on a soft mattress, and I felt the arms start to withdraw.
“No,” I mumbled. “Don’t go.”
“Shhh…I’ll be nearby. Sleep.”
And I did.