Page 16

"End unit, like you prefer. Full kitchen, reinforced walls, and emergency exits through the bathroom window." Grizzon tosses me an old-fashioned key attached to a plastic moon charm. "Your lady friend looks ready to collapse."

I glance at Serenity and notice the exhaustion she's trying to hide behind a rigid posture. The magical drain from last night, combined with our hasty escape, has left dark circles under her eyes and a tremor in her hands; she thinks I haven't noticed.

"Get some rest," I tell her as we approach room twelve. "We’ve put enough distance behind us and Chicago for tonight."

Pine cleaner and old carpet dominate the air, filling a room where mismatched furniture has seen better decades. Two double beds dominate the room, separated by a nightstand bearing a lamp shaped like a ceramic deer. The kitchen alcove holds a refrigerator that whirs loudly.

Serenity drops her duffel on the bed nearest the window and grabs out her laptop. "I need to cross-reference those manuscript symbols with⁠—"

"You need to sleep." My voice slices through the air, unintentionally harsh. "Eight hours of unconsciousness. Doctor's orders."

"Since when are you a doctor?"

"Since I became responsible for keeping you functional." I move between her and the laptop, using my size as a physical barrier. "Rest is as essential to your research as the books; you need your strength to find the answers."

"Research is the only thing that will help." She tries to step around me, but I shift position to block her path. "Those symbols in the Crowe texts match what I saw in the cathedral. If I can decode the connection⁠—"

"If you can stay awake long enough to read without hallucinating."

Her magic stirs in response to frustration. "I don't hallucinate."

"No, you simply channel uncontrolled cosmic energy that nearly levels buildings." I cross my arms and plant myself between her and the laptop like a wall she'll have to physically move. "Rest comes first. The investigation is second."

"Investigation actually comes first. Rest when we're not being hunted by homicidal cultists."

The tilt of her chin makes me tread restlessly, caught between admiration for her determination and the overwhelming urge to physically restrain her for her own protection. She's running on fumes and adrenaline, pushing herself toward another magical collapse.

"Serenity," I try for reasonable, though patience has never been my strong suit. "You've been conscious for over six hours after waking up from a major magical episode. Your hands are shaking, your pupils are dilated, and you're swaying on your feet."

"I'm fine."

"You're lying."

She jerks the laptop open, a sharp gesture that casts blue light across her pale features. "Welcome to my investigative process, Morvane. I work until the answers are found, reserving the final call on my rest for myself."

The tendons in my neck strain to the absolute bursting point. The woman possesses an almost supernatural ability to ignore basic self-preservation in favor of throwing herself headfirst into danger. Every protective instinct I possess screams warnings while she heedlessly courts exhaustion that could trigger another magical episode.

I drop into the chair opposite her to settle in for a long watch. "Fine, research all you want. I'll sit here and make sure you don't face-plant into the keyboard."

For hours, I watch as she digs into her research. I've never seen anyone fight sleep with such sheer willpower—it's almost mesmerizing. Then, the sudden vibration of my phone against the nightstand breaks the spell at half past midnight, Kellan's name lighting up the screen. Serenity remains fully captivated by her laptop by maintaining a relentless tempo for two hours straight.

"I need to take this." I stand and stretch muscles that have cramped from sitting in the uncomfortable chair. "Don't move."

"Wouldn't dream of it." She remains meticulously immersed in her task, ignoring everything else in the room as she scrolls through what appears to be scanned manuscript pages.

I step into the bathroom and close the door, keeping the inquiry to a low murmur. "What've you got?"

"Bad news wrapped in worse news." Kellan's voice holds a gravelly exhaustion after a night spent working contacts. "Chatter is high right now—word's out that there's a bounty. Fifty thousand for information leading to Serenity's location."

"Official or under the table?"

"Both, which means every freelancer and desperate supernatural being in three states is about to become very interested in witch hunting."

I pinch the bridge of my nose, feeling the mounting tension of too many enemies closing in. "How long do we have?"

"Maybe twelve hours before the word spreads wide enough to matter. You need to move again, preferably somewhere with better defensible positions than⁠—"

The bathroom door rattles in its frame, a sudden vibration that makes the mirror shiver. I freeze, instincts sharpening to combat readiness.