Chapter Ten

 

Ophelia sent a text to Demetrius before she finished gathering her supplies for the day. She only had ten minutes before she had to meet Bastian and she couldn’t find her inner peace or enjoy her mocha. Her belly flipped.

Gah! That male. He was burrowing his way into her heart. She’d shared her darkest nightmare with him, and it was her biggest mental struggle to close him off again. Only he was like a warped door. Once opened, she couldn’t fully close him out again.

The major problem was that she didn’t want to. Just like her malfunction with Nadair, she was getting sucked into the temptation to indulge in a relationship. To ponder what trusting a person could be like. To share her life with another.

Being alone sucked. She wasn’t so emotionally damaged that she’d delude herself about that.

There was a knock on her door. “Sorry, I’m early. I couldn’t sleep,” Bastian called from the other side.

She deliberately set her drink down. Loneliness might stink, but she’d wanted the next nine minutes to fortify herself against the endearing and sexy male on the other side.

“Come in.” She never locked her apartment. It was an intentional fuck you to the deep-seated fear that a stranger might enter her bedroom and force himself on her.

If she couldn’t trust her team, there was nowhere else for her and she needed to know ASAP. So far, none of her team had really stopped to visit her. She hadn’t spent much time under this roof, but it was growing on her.

He entered, and she resisted drinking him in. But the scent of a freshly showered Bastian was still hard to tolerate without stripping down naked and coming on to him.

“Is that coffee?”

“Want some?” She’d made extra. After he’d left a plain-ass glass of water by her bed—a considerate gesture—she’d lain awake thinking about what an epically bad decision sleeping with him had been.

“Do you mind? I can’t stomach the tea I’ve served for thirty years. I might as well brew the grass clippings for what it tastes like.”

She gestured to the coffeepot. Her milk and chocolate shavings had already been put away, but he could find what he needed. “I don’t mind tea, but it doesn’t have the kick I’m looking for in a beverage.”

He grabbed a to-go mug and filled it. She watched him work, telling herself to look away the entire time.

Had he laundered his clothing? And cleaned his weapons? The guy really couldn’t quit moving.

“Why couldn’t you sleep?” Why had she asked? She’d poured her heart out and kicked him out. Was he here to guilt-trip her?

“Antonia was still awake. She’s having a hard time, so I stayed with her until she went to bed.” He smiled grimly. “Then I stayed until I thought she’d fallen asleep.”

“Is she worried about her friend?” So he hadn’t lost sleep over her. She decided not to dwell on that, lest she discover she was disappointed. Too much power. She was giving him too much power.

“Yeah, we got around to Tiny.” He heaved a heavy breath. “Quentin.”

Now she could see it. The fatigue lining his face, the hunch in his shoulders, and the heavy burden of caring for someone.

She was so damn selfish, wanting him to have all kinds of angst over her aloofness, when kids were suffering. Antonia had been through a mental hell, and Quentin…

“We’d better go.” She ditched her cup and went to her room to toss her gear on. After all these years, it only took thirty seconds to suit up.

By the time she was out, Bastian held a second to-go mug. He handed it to her as they walked out the door.

He was so damn thoughtful. And it bothered her way too much. He’d do it for anyone.

God, that didn’t make it better. The fact that he looked after all those he was around made it too easy to convince herself he was a good guy. Good guys were dangerous. Because she didn’t know any. They were like unicorns.

She worked with several quality males, but they all had their faults. Demetrius had deceived their new government to protect Calli. Rourke had lied about his origins for years. And Bishop. The dude had kept his icy secret until the force that was Fyra made it impossible to hide. They still shone compared to what Stryke had done to Zoey. But he was a demon, so it was kinda expected. Creed had denounced his family and their ways, but not before he’d been an active participant. His parents’ fate had been left up to the Synod and they were likely going to get ashed. The only delay was whether they were going to throw others under the bus with any confessions.

But they all had honor and put the innocent above themselves, even if they hadn’t always. And Ophelia fit in among them. Zoey, too. They fought and they killed to make a better world for their people.

Bastian was one of the people they worked to help. Just because he joined her on this mission didn’t make him one of them. What would he do if he saw Ophelia in action? In her experience, a petite, fuckable female was hot until she bared her fangs and ripped someone limb from limb. Previous partners had had issues with that.

Nadair hadn’t liked to hear her talk shop. He especially detested when she’d come back close to dawn covered in blood. You can’t step foot in this house until that blood is off you. She’d hung outside until the sun burned the stains to ash and her skin heated dangerously close to blistering.

He hadn’t been impressed. He’d been jealous of her sun tolerance—and her fighting skills.

Bastian was a good guy. And he could go on about a connection between them that meant they were true mates, but he was destined for someone else. Someone of pure heart and sound mind. Someone more like him.

They didn’t talk as they walked to the garage bay. Bastian would have something to say soon enough.

Demetrius was standing by the car she’d planned on taking. When he saw them, he climbed into the back seat.

“He’s coming with us?” Bastian muttered.

“Sure is. If we find Lora, we’ll have to handle her, save Quentin without getting him hurt, and fight a second-tier demon, one that Fyra said was telekinetic. I prefer to work alone, but I’m not stupid.”

“And I’m a butler, not a fighter?”

She shrugged. “Can you bash a fist into Lora’s face without flinching?”

He didn’t reply.

“I can. Demetrius can.”

Bastian’s gaze flicked to where Demetrius waited in the car. “Fair enough.”

The sun was close to setting, but behind the vehicle’s glass, Bastian shouldn’t get burned. And she’d get to see one of her favorite views.

As she drove out, her mood soured. It was cloudy. No damn sunset.

Bastian peered outside, rubbing his arm. His skin must be tingling under the weak rays. “I was hoping to see a view like what’s in your artwork.”

Was he a motherfucking mind reader? Sunsets and sunrises were her thing. Most vampires thought it was like hanging a portrait of a stake on their wall. It made brandishing them as paintings in her home all the more satisfying. Then why was she disappointed that she couldn’t share a sunset with Bastian?

She switched her mindset to work. “Lora’s former employers live beyond the main cluster of prime families. I’ve never been there, but I’ll park outside the perimeter of the property and we can flash-run there like you and Antonia did when you came to the compound.”

He nodded. “Only I won’t be riddled with holes this time.”

Him dripping blood on her doorstep hadn’t been more than mildly stimulating at the time. Now the thought of it sent her heart pounding. She had to shut that shit off. To do her job, she had to leave her partner to fend for himself; otherwise they could both get into trouble. It was why she worked alone. No one to worry about but herself.

She’d sent someone she loved away with the sunrise once. She wasn’t strong enough to do it again.

It was a quiet drive. Demetrius thumbed through his phone. The guy never quit working.

Bastian was intent on the world around him. The sun was down, but the dying rays chased away the worst of the shadows. As she drove through downtown Freemont, she wished she could watch his reaction instead of the road. He stared at the tall glass buildings. Pale reds and yellows glinted off their windows and reflected the evening sky, making it seem less like they were in the heart of the city and more like the countryside had infiltrated the urban district. Had he never come this far into Freemont? The suburbs closest to the Gastons’ manor were probably all he’d needed—grocery stores, mechanic shops, strip malls. And she’d heard online shopping had been a boon to her kind, but she didn’t even have an Amazon account.

By the time they’d crossed into residential neighborhoods on their way out of town, full night had fallen.

“Is this the closest to sunset you’ve gotten?” Ophelia asked.

He chuckled. “Was I acting like a tourist? Yes, since I was a kid and living on the streets. There were too many close calls, so once I was working at the estate, I made sure to never dally again. But…I miss the spike of adrenaline it gives me. More potent than your strong coffee.”

“My coffee is strong,” she agreed.

There were no wiles with Bastian. He was honest to a fault, only she couldn’t fault him for it.

She slowed down the deeper they got into the trees. The families living out this far were familiar, but this part of Freemont wasn’t.

“Here’s County Road 83. Their land starts here.” She found a worn utility road and pulled off onto it, then backed into the shallowest part of the ditch. Branches and long, brittle grass scraped the car, but she kept going until the car was concealed to her satisfaction.

He set his coffee in the drink holder and peered around. “How far do you think it is?” he asked.

“They own the freaking lake that’s north of us. It might be quite far.”

“Good. I need some time to get my nerves under control.”

She smiled. He’d said it lightly, but honesty rang in his words. Did she ever fight a case of nerves anymore? She usually relished the thought of a fight, and it was no different tonight when it came to Lora.

Butterflies and jitters only visited her when Bastian was around.

She got out and softly clicked her door shut. Bastian and Demetrius followed suit.

“Lead the way,” Demetrius told her. “This is your op to run tonight.”

She took off at a run, flashing stretches between the trees. Little noise was made—none by her, and Bastian was controlling his footfalls and breathing.

His time at the cabin had prepared him well for navigating the terrain. She’d missed the sunrise this morning. With the upheaval Bastian created in her mind, she should’ve stayed and watched it and sent him on his way.

It was her cabin after all.

Deep down, that didn’t ring true. His family had owned it and he was still alive. He’d abandoned it, but whoever had claimed it hadn’t known Bastian’s fate. While she’d paid a negligible amount for it, Bastian might feel ownership over it.

The manor came into sight.

Hellfire, it was huge. It was larger than her childhood home, more expansive than the Gastons’. And, of course, the Segals’ place couldn’t compare. No wonder they’d been honored to have Lora work for them.

She slowed. They needed to remain undercover, but the trees had been neglected. Branches hung down and limbs littered the ground. Several had fallen to lay twisted and dead from the brutal winters Freemont could experience.

Bastian stuck close behind her but still at a distance where they wouldn’t collide. Demetrius brought up the rear.

Ophelia stopped flashing and used a snail’s pace to get closer. She angled away from the front. A former servant would want to use the portions of the manor she was more comfortable with.

The back of the estate came into view, but they had to circle out farther to get a look beyond the outcropping of one of the wings.

“Someone’s been here recently,” Ophelia said under her breath. Bastian would be able to hear her, but her words wouldn’t carry to the house.

The snow around the back door had been trampled. No new snow had fallen for days, so it was hard to tell when the prints had been made, but it confirmed her suspicions that Lora was taking advantage of the abandonment of her former quarters.

The question was, was Lora here now? And was Quentin?

They were too far away to smell brimstone. And she didn’t know the layout of the manor. Otherwise they could take another way inside.

It was night. Quentin was missing. Lora was on the run. If she was here with him, then it was unlikely they were alone. At the very least, the male from the club was here. And possibly the guy from the night Antonia was attacked.

“We flash to the sides of the back door and sneak in.” She palmed a knife. It was less cumbersome than handling a pistol. She couldn’t walk into the demons’ den without something immediate in her hand.

Bastian did the same, but he held it like he was going to chop more mushrooms. And since that was how he was familiar with it, it might serve him better to hack at their enemies like he was prepping a stew.

Demetrius lifted a brow at the move but didn’t adjust his grip either.

Ophelia pointed to herself, then to the door. She jabbed a finger at him and Demetrius, then to the other side of the door. Her on one side of the door, him on the other. He nodded and tensed.

They all flashed.

The scent of brimstone clung to the air by the servant’s entrance. One way or another she was getting answers tonight. And if Quentin was in here, blood would be shed to free him and she’d relish spilling it.

She inched the door open. No noise and the stale odor of a long-abandoned house greeted her. Wherever they were at, it was deep in the mansion. She slithered inside, her moves blending with the shadows. Bastian was almost as stealthy. Demetrius closed the door behind them.

The atmosphere inside was stale but thick with sulfur. Bonus: the three of them would stink so thoroughly it’d be hard to scent them.

They crept along the corridor, looking, listening, and feeling for any vibrations on the air.

They came to one room with a door flung open wide. She peered inside. A living area for the staff. It’d been inhabited recently. The cot had a crumpled blanket, and soda cans and empty chips bags littered the floor.

She’d think a teenage boy had been held captive here, but the stench of demon was too powerful. More likely it was the demon that had bonded Lora to roam this realm freely—and developed a taste for junk food.

They inched farther down the hall and crossed another room, her in the lead, Demetrius bringing up the rear. The brimstone stench was weaker, but the room had been slept in recently.

The corridor was growing wider and more opulent. The brick was more refined, and the hardwood flooring still maintained its luster, though it had faded somewhat over the last couple of years of neglect.

“—leave!” A female’s voice rang down the passageway.

Bastian tapped her arm and pointed to an opening she’d mistaken for an empty room. It was a concealed stairwell.

They silently descended. Ophelia kept every muscle tense and ready to spring.

Male voices argued, two of them, but Ophelia couldn’t make out the words.

Lora’s words were clear. “I said leave me.”

They cleared the stairs and faced another maze of hallways.

“Female,” a male snarled, “you do not command me.”

“I do if you want this kid to say the words.”

A whimper echoed from one of the rooms.

Quentin.

Ophelia snuck a peek over her shoulder to make sure Bastian wasn’t going to lose his edge and charge to the rescue. His stormy expression said he wanted to, but he was planted and waiting for her command.

Good.

She flowed toward the voices and calculated their options. Two males and a female. Lora was vicious, but she probably wasn’t a fighter, nor was she possessed. Of the two males, one was a demon and the other a possessed vampire. Formidable. A possessed host didn’t have to know how to fight if the demon inside did.

Both demons had already proven they had skills by simply surviving to adulthood in the underworld.

Were there any others? Was Quentin bound or being held down?

She stopped just outside the room they held him in.

One of the males spoke. “If he hasn’t said the spell by now, why would leaving make a difference?”

“I hope I didn’t bond with the dunce of the underworld,” Lora sneered. Ophelia’s brow popped. The maid might not be a fighter, but she dripped venom with her words. “Get out while I fix the mess the both of you made.”

Ophelia glanced at Demetrius. She motioned to herself and the room, then to him and the hallway. Demetrius nodded, but Bastian looked confused. She slowed it down and wagged her fingers back and forth to indicate her rushing into the room. She pointed at them to take care of whatever came out. Demetrius would back her up while sticking close to Bastian.

He nodded, determination etched in his features.

They paused outside the opening. The demon who’d bonded to Lora obviously hated her ordering him around. But if he listened to her, he’d be the one charging out of the room.

Ophelia would snicker if it wouldn’t give them away.

“You will watch how you speak to me, female,” one of the males growled.

“Or what? You’ll divorce me? News flash, Shankre, we’re not humans. You’ve terrified this kid so bad he can’t form a coherent word and our friend can’t take over. If you want his cooperation, you need me to loosen him up.”

She exchanged a look with Demetrius. Shankre. She filed the information away to ask Stryke or Quution. If the second vampire in the room wasn’t a prime, then he was probably inhabited by a second-tier, one that worked with Shankre.

“You will pay if he fails us,” the second male said. “I won’t be able to save you.”

Bastian tapped her arm. He pointed to the room and mouthed That’s him with an expression that was a mixture of shock, rage, and triumph. The vampire host getting driven by an unidentified demon was the same male from the night they’d tried to coerce Antonia. He was real, he was here, and he had driven Bastian and Antonia from their home.

“As if you could,” Lora sneered. “You’d be too busy hiding in the pantry with the madam.”

“Now’s not the time for jealousy,” Shankre growled.

On any other day, she’d go in swinging and relish the challenge of taking them all down. An ask-questions-later sort of thing, especially with Demetrius there to back her up. But with Quentin’s vulnerability and Bastian’s lack of experience, she’d put them both at risk. So far they had the element of surprise, and she’d have to use it.

Lora muttered something that sounded like bond mates don’t grow on trees. Heavy footfalls approached the opening.

Ophelia glanced at Bastian to confirm he knew his part. He brandished his knife, his expression grim.

As Lora’s mate turned the corner, Ophelia ducked and darted in under the male’s elbow. She might hate being petite and what that said about her childhood, but she’d be an idiot not to use the advantage.

Clearing the doorway, she quickly assessed the situation. Lora stood, her mouth gaping in astonishment, by a young male cowering on the floor. His leg was tied to an anchor mounted in the floor. Quentin had been chained like a dog.

The other male, the one she and Bastian had been searching for, launched into a flurry of motion. He was heading for her.

She planted her feet, and when he got into swinging range, she popped her fist out.

His vampire speed worked against him. Bone crunched under her knuckles as the blow traveled down her arm and threatened to shove her backward.

She didn’t give an inch.

The male recoiled, his head snapping back, blood droplets flying. He recovered quickly, but Ophelia had already drawn her weapon.

She fired at Lora. The sound resonated in the room like a gong to their sensitive ears, but Ophelia had been prepared for it.

Quentin flinched and shouted. He curled into a ball and covered his head. Lora dropped, the bullet lodged in the middle of her skull.

Bull’s-eye.

Ophelia smiled grimly at the male. Grunts and scuffles carried in from the hallway.

Bastian, you’d better not get yourself killed.

The male across from her tensed like he was ready to charge but was going to be more cautious this time.

Ophelia lunged forward, again taking him off guard.

Underestimation, party of one?

With lightning speed, she sliced with her knife. He cried out, but kicked, knocking her off-balance. She spun into the move, but he’d closed the distance. His eyes were pure black and full of murder.

The demon was definitely in charge.

He encompassed her in an iron bear hug with her back to him and twisted. The move was so fast, her feet lifted from the ground and she dropped her weapons. Metal clattered to the floor. She slammed her heels back into his legs. He grunted in pain but squeezed harder.

Popping sounds emanated from her rib cage. She tried to inhale a huge breath, but his hold was too solid.

Raining her feet down, she hammered at his kneecaps. When he loosened his grip, she used his poor strategy. He thought he had her.

She dipped her head as far as she could, then crashed it back into his nose.

That worked. His arms flailed, and she dropped to her feet. She spun and crouched, her hands at the ready. He was doubled over, holding his hands to his nose.

Instead of a frontal attack, she launched herself around him. Jumping on his back, she wrapped an arm around his broad shoulders and reached her free hand to her belt to secure another blade.

He roared and lunged backward, losing his footing. Oh. Shit.

She dropped her hold and rolled away before they hit the floor. She popped up, dagger in hand, her dropped gun just out of reach. The male righted himself and bared his fangs. He inched toward her.

Enough of this. She let the knife fly. It lodged in his chest but didn’t slow his advance. That wasn’t her goal.

She dove to one side, scooped up her gun, aimed, and fired. The whole move took less than a second.

Yes. Middle of the forehead again. He dropped.

Moans came from Lora’s direction, but she was as good as incapacitated with the lead in her brain. The vampire host, though, he was too dangerous with the demon inside. Some demons could access their powers while in a host. This demon hadn’t tried anything yet, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t. Demons were tricky and arrogant and he could’ve been caught in the tangle.

She withdrew a short wooden stake and stepped over the male.

His eyelids pried open.

“Buh-bye.” She swung the stake in an arc. It hit just to the side of his breastbone to impale his heart.

She leapt away as a portal to the underworld opened underneath him.

Quentin was chained, he’d be fine. She grabbed ahold of Lora’s ankle and dragged her as far away as she could as fast as she could.

Quentin curled into a tighter ball. Lora was blinking and groaning.

The yawn of the portal was closed again within seconds and the room fell quiet.

Except for the fight still taking place in the hall.

Dammit. She stomped her boot into Lora’s face. The female went limp and Ophelia ran to the hall.

Demetrius was in a chokehold and getting slammed against the wall. His weapons were hovering around him and the male he fought. Bastian was snatching them out of the air as fast as the demon ripped them out of his hands to levitate them again. The blades shuddered and jerked toward Bastian, but he ducked and twirled. Fighting with Demetrius was keeping the demon too distracted to aim properly.

The other male was humanoid with burly arms and legs and short, sharp horns. Hopefully his only abilities were telekinetic.

Knives slashed at Bastian’s back. His blood tinged the air. The gun was swirling around them, too, but the demon must be hesitant to use it in case he hit himself.

That was actually a smart move.

Demetrius’s face was red and his nose streamed blood. Shankre, too, was bleeding from his nose and mouth, and blood stained his shirt. Demetrius kept ramming him and the demon into the wall. Dust rained down on all their heads. They were going to take out the whole structure.

She tightened her grip around her gun and treaded around them.

“Get back, Ophelia.” Bastian lunged for something behind her.

A stabbing pain lanced through her shoulder.

She curled her lip over a fang and craned her neck around. A handle stuck from her back.

Well, the demon knew she was there.

Demetrius was turning a nasty shade of gray. He was running out of air, using it all up as he rammed elbows back into the demon.

Shankre’s gaze met hers. His lips curled back to reveal blackened, jagged teeth.

She tilted her head to consider him. One of his eyes twitched.

Yeah, she wasn’t what he expected. She got that a lot.

Demetrius’s lips worked like he was warning her away.

The gun. She ducked but Bastian was there, plucking it out of the air. He clenched his fist around it to keep the demon from using his powers to retake it.

She snatched a knife out of the air. Time to end this. She stalked toward the struggling pair and swung at Shankre, but her arm slowed to a stop like she’d moved through air into wet cement.

Demetrius dropped his weight, a move the demon hadn’t been prepared for, and twisted his body until he flung Shankre down. He pounded Shankre’s face. And hit him again, and again.

Shankre’s limbs flopped. The fight with Demetrius had worn him down.

She stretched to get the knife out her shoulder. Bastian was there. “Pull it out,” she ordered.

She wanted to crane her neck and watch him, but it hurt too badly to turn her head. His fingers wrapped around the hilt and tugged.

The blade slipped free as searing pain burned through her back. “Fuck me,” she groaned. “Give it to D.”

Bastian hugged the wall like he didn’t want to get close to the demon and knelt to hand the knife to Demetrius. Her boss grabbed it, flipped it, and sliced it across Shankre’s neck. He jumped away as soon as he finished.

Blood sprayed.

Bastian fell back. “It burns.”

Splatters of blood covered his face. Tendrils of smoke curled from where each drop had hit. He wiped at them and hissed.

It was burning his hands, too. She couldn’t get her shirt off with her shoulder holster on. Jerking the hem out of her waistband, she ripped a piece off. He grabbed the rag from her and scrubbed his face.

His movements calmed, and he huffed a giant breath.

“You killed them?” Demetrius asked.

“Not the maid. We can question her. Quentin’s in there. The demon was sent back to hell after I ashed the vampire.”

Demetrius nodded toward where Shankre was bleeding out. “I’ll cut off his head and flash back to talk to Calli about this. You two got the rest?”

Ophelia cast a skeptical look toward Bastian. Fighting with knives in midair and getting singed by demon blood might’ve unnerved him.

Bastian glanced at his hands. His expression didn’t waver as he nodded. “We’ll take care of it.”

He really was adaptable.

 

***

 

Ophelia sauntered back into the chamber that held Quentin. She wasn’t even breathing heavy, and she’d taken out a possessed male vampire twice her size, not to mention Lora. The maid might not have posed a huge threat, but she’d been a problem to deal with and Ophelia had dealt with her, too.

He rushed into the room after her. She squatted by Quentin. The terrified boy trembled but was listening to her low words.

The boy was chained to the floor, Lora was unconscious in a heap several feet away, and there was no sign of the dead vampire, since he’d been ashed.

Bastian stayed where he was, near the door. The presence of an unknown male might shock Quentin back into whatever state Ophelia was talking him out of.

Ophelia glanced up and gestured to Lora’s prone body. “The maid’s coming back with us.”

Quentin’s head lifted. His bleary, red-rimmed eyes scanned the room. “Is Lora okay?”

Aw hell. Quentin sounded distraught over the maid. Was he still under her spell?

“Lora will not be okay. She colluded with demons.”

“Not Lora. They were forcing her.” Quentin spotted Lora. “Oh my god. What happened to her? Did you shoot her?”

Ophelia heaved a sigh and looked at Bastian.

This wasn’t good. He knelt by Ophelia, angling his body to keep Lora in his line of sight but block her from the kid. “Quentin, I’m a friend of Antonia’s.”

Quentin’s gaze shot to his. “Antonia? How is she? Did that male get to her, too?”

“Almost, but she’s safe now. I can take you to her. We’ll call your parents.”

Quentin’s head shook until he groaned and cupped his hands over his face. “My head,” he groaned. “No. Not my parents. Lora said they were working with that male to sell me to the underworld.”

“Lora was lying,” Ophelia said.

“No,” Quentin argued. He hunched back into a ball. Ophelia’s hard tone had frightened him.

“Yes. She lied to you.”

“No!”

“Quentin,” he said gently. “Do you think a demon is more likely to go through your parents to get to you, or through an attractive young female who can get close to you and seduce you?”

Quentin’s shoulders shook. “No.” It was weaker this time. “Lora likes me.”

“She might, but she was using you, and it’s not your fault. It’s what demons do. They exploit your emotions.”

Quentin blinked at him, his hands sliding from his face. God, he was so young. He snuck a glance at Ophelia. “Who are you? And how do you know Antonia?”

“I work for our government,” she answered.

Quentin squinted. “We don’t have a government anymore.”

“Uh, yeah, we do. We don’t have the old government anymore.”

Bastian bit back an I told you so. Now wasn’t the time to get on his soapbox again, no matter how much this was the Synod’s fault. “I worked for the Gastons, but I raised Antonia.”

Quentin kept his eyes narrowed. “So you’re a servant like Lora, but you say to trust you and not her.”

If the boy hadn’t been through such a trauma, Bastian would’ve shaken him. But at the same time, he was asking pertinent questions and not following blindly. He may not have done that with Lora, but he was doing it now.

The boy’s gaze strayed in the direction of the unconscious maid. “My parents weren’t trying to sell me?”

His voice was so little, Bastian could picture him as a little boy learning to walk. “They were not.”

Quentin finally nodded and tried to stand up. He wobbled and Bastian threw the kid’s arm over his shoulder. Ophelia didn’t bother finding a key for the chain around Quentin’s foot. She smashed it with her boot over and over until it cracked and she kicked it free.

He staggered out with the boy. Ophelia struggled with Lora, but he stayed with Quentin. She would’ve ordered him to anyway. Quentin might think he was in love with Lora and attack Ophelia for hurting her.

Once the maid was draped over Ophelia’s narrow shoulders, they wove their way out of the manor and flashed back to the compound.

The demon who’d targeted Antonia had lost another host. Lora was no longer bonded to a being from the underworld. Antonia’s father was still on the run, they needed to hunt down the one the Segals called Dieter, but the male from the night Antonia had been attacked was dead. Whatever came next, after a night like tonight, Bastian needed a break.