Melmarc watched his mother go through his father’s clothes in a hurry. With the door closed behind him, he took a few more steps deeper into the room. His eyes glanced over at his father, but he didn’t allow it to settle on him.

  A lot of people liked to talk about how peaceful people were in their sleep, sometimes even about how peaceful they were in their coffins. As for Melmarc, he couldn’t really say anything about how peaceful his father was in his current sleep. The reason was because his father mostly had only one expression. Nothing. And the same expression of nothing was what was currently on his face.

  He would be lying if he said that it wasn’t peaceful in its own way, though.

  “This should fit you.”

  Melmarc turned to find his mother walking out of the walk-in closet with one of his father’s shirts in her hand. It was a big purple shirt. Wooly with the design of a cute white bunny on the front complete with a purple bow tie, Melmarc remembered when she’d gotten it for his father a few years ago. He’d probably seen his father wear it eight times at the most.

  Personally, he and Ark had a feeling that their father shared the same thoughts as they did about the shirt. The shirt was ugly.

  Now his mother held it up by both long sleeves and was walking up to him.

  “Oh, wipe that look off your face,” she said with a sigh as she all but dumped it on his shirt. “It’s not that bad.”

  Melmarc took it and held it up as well. It was almost twice his size. He was tall, but his father was taller. He was athletic in build, but his father was of a very dominant size.

  “I never said it was bad,” he muttered.

  His mother was already walking back to the bed. “But you were thinking it.”

  Melmarc couldn’t argue about that. Still, he didn’t immediately put the shirt on.

  Remembering what Uncle Dorthna had all but insinuated about how him passing out again might’ve had something to do with his parent’s return home and finding his dad asleep, Melmarc couldn’t help but ask the question on his mind.

  “What’s up with dad?”

  His mother looked at his father with a warm smile before looking back at Melmarc.

  “He’s resting,” she answered.

  Dissonant.

  Melmarc held back the sigh that bubbled up at his own mind. This was not the time to be catching his parents in a lie. If his mother said that his father was resting, it wouldn’t be a bad idea to take her word for it.

  The problem, however, was that it was not her word.

  “Is Ark adopted?” he asked.

  His mother raised an incredulous brow, yet there was a touch of mirth on her lips. “Of course he’s adopted,” she joked. “With all the headache he gives me, God knows I wouldn’t pick him from a line of crack babies.”

  Dissonant.

  The thought had been expected but Melmarc couldn’t help but cock a brow at his mother’s words. His jaw hung loose in complete shock.

  His mother gave him a sheepish smile. “Too much?”

  Melmarc gave her a flat look as he tried to hide his smile. “You think?”

  “Fair enough,” his mother conceded, then gestured vaguely at his head. “So what did your mind thingy say? You know, the lie detector thing.”

  “That Ark isn’t adopted,” he answered, shirt still in his hands. He was hoping to start and finish the entire conversation without wearing the shirt.

  “Sad,” his mother said, shaking her head. “Must be broken. You’re also adopted, by the way.”

  Dissonant.

  “Ha ha,” Melmarc laughed sarcastically. “Jokes on you, I found my adoption papers years ago.”

  It was his mother’s turn to cock a brow. She was smiling, though. So that was a good thing.

  “How did you know?” Melmarc asked after a while, knowing that she knew he was talking about his ‘dissonant’ trait, or, as she had aptly put it, his lie detector.

  “I lied to you and you immediately followed it up with a bizarre question you obviously knew the answer to,” she said. “I’ve been married to your father for more than twenty years. Trust me, I know what it looks like when he catches me in a lie.”

  “Oh.”

  That made sense.

  “Although,” she muttered. “It’s kind of odd getting the same reaction from my son. Also, the shirt isn’t ugly. It’s cute. Now put it on.”

  Melmarc held the shirt up for her to see. “It’s really ugly, mom.”

  “Is it the bunny?” she asked with a slightly worried expression. “Because I think the bunny is cute. And I got it in purple so that it looks more masculine.”

  “It’s a bunny with a bow tie, mom,” Melmarc made a vague gesture with his hand to implied that her logic was shaky. “Even in midnight black it’ll be hard to make it look masculine.”

  She stared at the shirt for a moment as if trying to make heads and tails of it. In the end she sighed.

  “You know your father isn’t a man of many words, right?”

  Melmarc nodded. “It has not skipped my attention.”

  “Is that sass I hear?” she asked giving him a gentle but warning look.

  Melmarc smiled. “No, mother.”

  “Good boy. Anyway,” she continued. “Do you know that I won him this shirt at a carnival? That one we went to a few years back that they almost kicked Ark out.”

  He and Ark had gotten on the deadliest ride at the carnival. It had been completely insane and terrifying, built by a group of people with the [Crafter] class, so that it went slightly beyond the laws of physics. In summary, Ark had almost been kicked out because when everyone had gotten on the ride, he had—to the awareness of everyone present just when it was starting to move—raised up a bolt and had asked if anyone knew where it had come from.

  It was irresponsible and very unkind, but it was also Ark. At least before he’d learned that not all jokes that his family could handle were jokes that normal people could handle.

  Melmarc had never seen a collective group of people go so white in perfect harmony before.

  It had taken a lot of apologizing from Ninra to keep them from getting kicked out before their parents had come to smooth things over.

  Melmarc nodded. “I know the one.”

  “Well, do you know what your father said when I handed him the shirt?” his mother asked.

  Melmarc shook his head.

  “One word. Ugly.” She shook her head, smiling. “That’s it. He disliked the shirt so much that he had to make a comment on it.”

  “Oh.”

  “Yea,” his mother nodded. “Then the moment Ark saw it, he said it looked like purple play dough gone wrong. I swear your brother was a fun, mean child. What does purple play dough gone wrong even look like to a kid?”

  Melmarc shrugged because he actually had no idea. As a kid, play dough had just looked like play dough to him. Now, they just looked like… Play dough, I guess.

  As for his mother’s question, he held up the shirt. “It looks like this, I guess.”

  “Put on the shirt, Mel,” she told him, pointing a warning finger at him.

  Melmarc obeyed. In all fairness, he hadn’t expected to go this long in the conversation without putting the shirt on.

  Regardless of how ugly anyone in the family thought the shirt was, he could not deny that it was actually comfortable. If it had actually been as cold as his mother claimed, he was sure it would’ve warmed him up a little.

  “You see,” his mother smiled. “It looks good on you. Now come have a seat. When we got back, your brother said you were sleeping.”

  Melmarc walked over to her without complaint because there was no reason for one. He took a comfortable seat in front of her with legs crossed in front of him like a monk.

  His mom frowned. “Why the floor?”

  “It just made sense,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders.

  “I will not even pretend to understand. Anyway, I checked up on you a few times. You know, made sure you were properly cleaned and all that.” She gave him a sheepish smile.

  “Please tell me you were the one cleaning me.”

  “Really?” she gave him a daring look. “Would you like your mother to tell you that while you, a sixteen-year-old boy, were lying down unconscious she was wiping you down. From head to toe?”

  Melmarc thought about it for a very brief moment and shivered. “I don’t want to know if I was being cleaned.”

  His words got a soft laugh out of his mother.

  “Anyway,” she continued. “I couldn’t help but notice the hair.”

  Melmarc reached up absently and ran his hand through his hair. “The hair?”

  “You’ve got a white spot. You’ve not seen it?”

  He shook his head. “I haven’t.”

  Melmarc was aware of it, but he hadn’t seen it.

  His mother turned away from him. “One moment.” Reaching beside the pillow at the edge of the bed closest to her, she picked up her phone. After a few taps, she handed it over to him. “Here.”

  Melmarc took the phone and found the front facing camera turned on. Right there, staring at him on the screen, was his face. Above his left eye his hair had a white patch. A handful of hair was a deep pure white from root to tip.

  It gave him a certain kind of look.

  Dangerous? He couldn’t say. It did make him look a bit unique, though. Different. Then again, anyone with a patch of white hair would look unique. The more important question, however, was whether he liked the new look.

  He didn’t have an answer to that one either.

  Before he returned his mother’s phone to her, he paused, catching something on the screen. Drawing the phone closer to his face, he opened his eyes wider.

  His brows furrowed in uncertainty. Were his eyes lighter?

  He turned his head one way, trying to focus on one of his eyes instead of the two of them. He wasn’t the kind of person that normally paid much attention to his pupils, so he couldn’t be sure. But it felt as if his pupils were lighter in color.

  “What’s that?” his mother asked.

  Melmarc shook his head, handing her phone back to her. When she took the phone, he paused, giving his decision a second thought.

  He leaned towards her and widened his eyes for her to see. “Do my eyes look lighter to you?”

  She placed the phone randomly on the bed and leaned in, stared at his eyes. They remained like that for a moment before she nodded.

  “Yes,” she told him. “A little on the lighter side. And your sclera is whiter. Cleaner. Gives you something of a royal look, though.”

  Melmarc ignored the last comment but nodded. He ran his hand through his hair again.

  “I like the hair,” he muttered, coming to a conclusion on it. “It’s just… nice.”

  “Maybe,” his mother said. “But you’re still going to have to cut it, though. You can’t keep the hair like that forever. You need to look presentable for school.”

  Melmarc stiffened almost immediately. He still hadn’t applied to any schools yet. It was so unlike him to be so unprepared. Usually, he was the one telling Ark about how he should do the things he was supposed to do. But here he was.

  His expression must’ve given off something because his mother gave him a look.

  “How many schools have you applied to?” she asked.

  Melmarc shook his head sheepishly. “None.”

  “Do you need a letter of recommendation from me, or did you get any during your mentorship program?”

  “From you?” he asked, confused.

  “Of course from me,” she insisted. “I might work for the government but I’m still a Delver, you know. And a powerful one.”

  She was. That much was true. But Melmarc often found it easy to forget. His parents being Delvers was a normal part of his life, like your parents working for the government. But for him, it was often easy to forget that they were powerful. He blamed it on the simple house and the simple school life.

  The way they lived and spent time together made them feel like simple civil servants when they were most likely as powerful as ministers.

  “I got something from a Delver named Vlad on the school trip,” he offered.

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  “The trip to Boston?”

  Melmarc nodded. “I think he was a famous Delver in Romania.”

  “Vlad Alexandru?” she asked, seeming thoughtful.

  Again, Melmarc nodded. “Delano, Eroms and I helped him out with a few things.”

  “And he offered you a letter of recommendation? An open one?”

  “All three of us, actually,” Melmarc clarified. “I think he didn’t want to be rude and ask which of us was Gifted. Since all three of us helped in our own way, I think he just gave all three of us.”

  “Vlad Alexandru.” His mother said the name as if she was tasting it. “I think I know him. There are people who think he’s some kind of a vampire, right?”

  Melmarc nodded. “Uncle Dorthna said he knows him.”

  “Yeah. Your dad and I know him, too.” His mother made a face. It was the one she always made when she was done thinking about the subject. “I guess a recommendation from him is good, even if he’s retired.”

  But while she was concluding on that subject, her words had brought up another subject in his mind. It was a subject he felt he should address. A question he thought he should ask.

  “Mom?”

  “Yes, dear?”

  Melmarc hesitated. What he was about to ask felt a little like an invasion of privacy. Still, he wanted to know.

  “Can I ask a question?”

  His mother smiled as if motivating him to ask the question. “About what?”

  “Uncle Dorthna.”

  She nodded. “I don’t see why not.”

  “Well, it’s just that…”

  “Mel, spit it out. I don’t remember any of my kids being so timid as to beat around the bush.”

  Melmarc let out a calming breath. She was right.

  “What is Uncle Dorthna?”

  “Oh, that’s the question?” she didn’t seem very surprised despite her words.

  “Yes.”

  “Well, that one’s easy.” She shrugged. “Powerful. That’s your answer.”

  “I don’t get it,” Melmarc said.

  “That’s what your uncle is,” his mother said. “Powerful.”

  Melmarc had been hoping for more. “More powerful than dad?”

  She nodded. “More powerful than your dad and I, combined.” She gave him a look. “Not the answer you were looking for?”

  “Not really,” he admitted. “I was thinking more along the line of species. Is he some kind of demon god or some kind of ancient dragon or something?”

  “Honestly,” she shrugged. “He insists that he’s human. And when I say he insists, I mean he insists. He’s quite adamant about it.”

  That made sense. “He looks human.”

  “I know. But why do you ask?”

  “Because of something he said,” Melmarc answered. “Before you came, I was talking to him after he and I got into a bit of a scuffle in the living room. He—”

  “I’m sorry, what?” his mother interrupted him, not sorry at all. “Did you just say that you got into a scuffle with your uncle?”

  Melmarc nodded sheepishly, wondering if he shouldn’t have said that. “It’s why the living room is like that. He didn’t tell you?”

  He didn’t know his uncle to keep things as important as that from his parents.

  His mother looked thoughtful. “He did say that there was a scuffle but that it was nothing important. I just assumed you and your brother got into some kind of rough play or something. But you and him? How did that happen?”

  Melmarc looked away, hesitant to meet his mother’s gaze. “I kind of blacked out and went into a rampage from what I was told. He had to… put me down.”

  “Put you down. Really?” His mother did not look the slightest bit amused.

  “He did heal me after I woke up, though,” Melmarc hurried to add.

  “So, he didn’t just put you down. He knocked you out.” Now his mother looked annoyed. Then she looked thoughtful. “Are you the reason for the notification?”

  Melmarc paused. “What notification?”

  “At the meeting a bunch of the people there got a notification that…” she shook her head and waved the entire question aside. “Never mind. It’s not important. It was coming from the house, so I thought maybe your uncle was doing something.”

  Melmarc had no idea what she was talking about. But, seeing as she was willing to let the subject lie, he was willing to move the conversation along.

  “So, what did your uncle say?” his mother asked.

  “Something about being a shadow of what he used to be,” Melmarc said.

  “That much is true. Something happened to him that he doesn’t talk about. Sometimes I think your dad knows what it is.”

  “You think dad figured it out?” Melmarc was surprised. He didn’t think of his dad as someone who paid that much attention to anything that wasn’t his mom or him and his siblings.

  “No,” his mother corrected. “I think he told your dad. But I could be wrong. Your dad doesn’t talk much, and he’s good at keeping other people’s secrets. But, like I said, I could be wrong.”

  “Anyway,” Melmarc continued. “When I asked him how he could still be so powerful even when he’s a shadow of himself, he said something about a dying dragon still being stronger than an ant.”

  His mother laughed. “Those were his words?” she asked, amused. “A dying dragon and an ant?”

  “I think I was the ant in this situation.”

  His mother laughed a handful of seconds longer before composing herself. He chuckled a little before her amusement finally ended. “Your uncle tends to see everyone as an ant, so I guess it doesn’t really matter. Do you think the analogy is correct, though?”

  Melmarc shrugged. “Maybe? Do you know that he can see other people’s interfaces when they pull it up?”

  That got a very clear reaction from his mother. She paused, frowned. Her mouth opened and closed like a fish drinking water. She seemed to go through a lot of emotions with no certainty of which one to settle on.

  In the end, she let out a defeated sigh. “He can, can he?”

  Melmarc nodded. “He can.”

  His uncle had told him that it was alright to tell his parents about it. In fact, he had practically insinuated that he should. Still, Melmarc couldn’t help but feel like a tattletale, a snitch.

  “That is…” his mother let her words trail off for a moment, then looked to reconcile a few things. “I guess a few things make sense now. Anyway, have you thought about where you want to go to school?”

  Melmarc shrugged. “Any where’s fine.”

  His mother raised her head and looked to the ceiling as if in silent prayer, then she let out a very, very calming breath.

  “Mel, dear,” she said in the most patient motherly tone she could muster.

  Melmarc was suddenly very, very worried. “Yes, mom?”

  “You do know that we are not poor, right?” she asked.

  Melmarc nodded slowly. “I know.”

  “We aren’t even middle class.”

  Again, Melmarc nodded.

  “We have money.”

  “I know, mom. You’re a Delver. You and dad.”

  “You and your siblings might even own shares in multiple companies you just don’t have access to. You might be trust fund babies.”

  “I get it, mom. We’re rich.” Melmarc paused. “Wait. Are we trust babies, like we don’t need to work for the rest of our lives rich?”

  When his mother opened her mouth, Melmarc leaned everything into his ability to tell lies. He might’ve leaned forward a little in anticipation.

  His mother’s mouth clamped shut. “I’m not answering that.”

  “No fair,” Melmarc groaned, and his mother stuck her tongue out at him in a childish display.

  “So is using your ability to tell lies on your mother.”

  “In my defense, it was a moment of truth thing,” he confessed. “But we’re rich.”

  His mother’s lips moved around in contemplation for a while before she said, “Your father and I are rich. Your sister might be selling drugs in school and be building an empire. Honestly, you can never tell with that one. She could be a priest today and a terrorist tomorrow.”

  Melmarc could definitely see Ninra doing that. The priest and terrorist thing, not the drugs. Could he see her selling drugs?

  He paused to think about Ninra wearing a dark hoodie in a shady alley in the middle of the night and almost laughed. That was entirely wrong. If his sister sold drugs, she would probably look more legit about it. She’d most likely open a flower shop or something and sell drugs to civilized rich kids.

  A line creased his forehead, and he thought about it. For some reason it made sense.

  Ninra’s selling drugs.

  She probably wasn’t. But she also probably was.

  “Your sister isn’t selling drugs, Mel,” his mother snapped at him as if reading his mind.

  “But she could be,” he protested.

  “She’s not. For God’s sake, the things you kids come up with.”

  “In my defense, you were the one that brought it up.”

  “And that one’s my fault,” his mother conceded. “So, let’s go back to the original conversation. Now that you remember that your father and I are rich while you and your brother are not, what school do you want to go to?”

  “Can it be one of the big five?” he asked without missing a beat.

  “The big five?”

  “Black bear, Fallen High, Edulard, The Seat of Wisdom, and Classical.” He ticked off a finger with each name he called. “But not necessarily in that order. They are the highest ranked Delver schools in the country.”

  “I thought they were Gifted schools,” his mother said. “Not Delving schools.”

  “They are,” Melmarc admitted. “But they also have a high rate of Delver alumni.”

  “So that’s what gives them their ranking?” his mother asked, absently rubbing his father’s arm gently. “That seems kind of odd, don’t you think?”

  Melmarc shook his head. “They are ranked high because they always reach high levels in the high school delving tournaments.”

  “Oh.” His mother’s face fell. “That. I forgot that high schools also did that.”

  “You don’t like the games?”

  She gave him a flat look. “What mother would like the thought of her son going to school and getting into fights.”

  “Spars,” Melmarc corrected. “And Ark and I spar all the time. In self defense classes. Even ever since we got back from our mentorship program.”

  “That’s different. It’s in a safe, controlled environment.” She sighed. “In those competitions, the kids are practically trying to kill each other.”

  “There are always S-rank [Healers] around. And there are rules and mechanisms in place to prevent actual death. It’s a controlled environment, too.”

  “What of the mental trauma that comes with it?” his mother asked as if she’d won the argument with that question.

  “Kind of hard to be a Delver if you aren’t able to face life and death situations without losing your mind, though. Isn’t it?” Melmarc shot back.

  “We don’t send our children to those schools to become Delvers, though.”

  “That’s why participation in the Delving tournaments is totally optional,” Melmarc said. “It’s not as if they force all the kids to do it. It’s like sports in school. Only those that want to and are qualified for it, get to make the team and play.”

  “And I take it that you’re joining them to make the Delving team and play,” his mother said with an unimpressed look.

  Melmarc nodded cautiously. “You don’t want me to?”

  “No mother wants their child to, Mel,” his mother said with a sad look. “But I’m not stupid. I know how much you’ve always wanted to be a Delver even when you didn’t know if you would be Gifted or not. And with everything that’s happening now, it would be unreasonable of me to try and talk you out of it.”

  Melmarc nodded, releasing a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. What would he have done if his mother had said that she didn’t want him joining the Delving games in his school? He had thought of joining anyway while keeping it a secret from his mother, but that was more of an Ark thing.

  Personally, he was the obedient child. He wouldn’t have liked it, but he would’ve obeyed. But he would’ve still found his way to becoming a Delver after college. Unless some Delving company scouted him after high school.

  The thought made him wonder what his mother would do if he was scouted after high school. There were a lot of Delvers who were scouted straight from high school. Rumors of laws being proposed that would stop that from happening filled the internet. But with how much people needed Delvers, nobody believed that those laws would be passing any time soon.

  “So, what school do you have in mind?” his mother asked.

  The answer to that was very simple. “Fallen High.”

  “Because?” his mother pressed.

  “They are number one in the overall ranking,” he said. “And they are the only school in the last two decades to ever be three-time defending champions. The Seat of Wisdom is close on their heels with back-to-back victories last year and last two years, but everybody believes the Black Bears have this year in the bag. With their final years graduating this season, Black Bear’s second years have been showing a lot of promise. I think that if they lead their new squad properly, they just might have the chance to beat Seat of Wisdom’s current line up.”

  His mother groaned. “I always thought Ark was the violence enthusiast in the family. I never pegged you for a violence lover, too.”

  Melmarc shrugged. “We’re our father’s sons.”

  His mother cocked a brow at him, then laughed.

  “Oh, that’s cute,” she said. “Let’s get something straight, Mel. Your dad is the pacifist in the family. You and Ark get your love for violence from me.” She paused, as if realizing what she’d just said and smacked a hand against her forehead. “I just realized that I’m a terrible mom.”

  Melmarc smiled. “You manage.”

  “I should find a way to punish you for saying that. You were supposed to say I’m an amazing mother,” she joked. “Anyway, let me let you go. You and Ark are supposed to go and get you a new phone. Once you’ve updated it with all your files, you can send your applications to the school of your choice. Let me not hold you until its dark.”

  “I’ve got a slight headache, so Ark and I agreed to do that tomorrow,” Melmarc told her. “The real reason I came was because Ark told me that you said we were going to Brooklyn.”

  “We are.”

  “When?”

  “Before you go to school.”

  “Why?”

  The air grew suddenly heavy at his question and his mother’s eyes grew very slightly cold. “Because there are people that have questions to answer.”

  Melmarc’s mind went straight to Detective Alfa.

  “Oh.”

  “We also have to go get Naymond,” his mother added. “You do remember that you and your dad left him in Brooklyn, right?”

  Melmarc wanted to say that he remembered, but it was something that was at the back of his mind. He knew it, but did not actively think about it. Like an uncle that wasn’t really your favorite uncle. You were aware of him, but didn’t really think about him.

  “You are now that [Sage]’s commanding officer,” his mother pointed out. “So, he’ll have to answer to you, and you’ll have to be in charge of taking care of him. Once we get him, he’ll update you on the quest he’s currently on, you’ll decide if he should continue on the quest as well. If you don’t like the quest, you can terminate it and give him a new one.”

  That sounded like a lot of responsibilities.

  “Yes, it’s a lot of responsibility,” his mother said, probably reading his expression. “But you have to start at some point. So we’ll go get him, punish a few people that need punishing, then get the things you left there.”

  “Please tell me I’m not going to be in charge of the punishing,” he said.

  His mother shrugged. “I’m going to be a terrible mother for saying this, but do you want to be?”

  Melmarc shook his head. He didn’t want to punish Alfa and whoever else deserved punishing. The only person he wanted to punish was Naymond’s confidential informant, David Swan.

  “There is someone I have in mind, though,” he said.

  His mother looked surprised. “Really? There’s someone you want to punish?”

  Melmarc nodded. “A Confidential Informant.”

  “They had you working with a Confidential Informant?” His mother looked baffled. “What the hell were they thinking?”

  Something told Melmarc that he shouldn’t tell her it was Naymond’s idea for Naymond’s safety.

  He remembered how Naymond had reacted to his father’s presence and how he had known his mother. If his mother was the violent family member and not his father, he could only imagine what she would do to the [Sage].

  “And why are we punishing this Confidential Informant, if you don’t mind me asking?”

  Melmarc tried to play it off as nothing important with a nonchalant shrug as he gave his answer. “Before I got stuck in the portal, he sold me out to some drug gang that was in charge of trafficking human organs. He gave them my class, too.”

  Once again, the air in the room seemed to grow stale. His mother’s eyes darkened and he could feel her rage permeate the entire room.

  It sent shivers up his spine even though he knew that it had nothing to do with him. When she spoke again, her voice was cold steel.

  “Tell me his name.”

  “David Swan.”

  …

  “I don’t like this one bit,” Navari grumbled. “You’re running.”

  “Not running, just changing strategies.”

  Navari scoffed in derision. “You’re like a roach, trying to survive no matter how many times you’re supposed to be dead.”

  “That’s harsh, but I’ll take it as a compliment.”

  “Take it as a worship song for all I care,” Navari snapped even though he did his best to keep his anger from his voice. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is that while I’d usually help you out, with the way things went, as you’re very aware of, everyone’s treating me like a diseased patient. No one will come within a foot of me. My contacts have all frozen me out, and I think the Romanians might be coming for me because of that fool they sent over.”

  “He’s still missing, isn’t he?”

  “You know damn well that he’s still missing!” Navari slammed his hand against the desk in front of him violently. The sound echoed through the small room and it took him a moment to calm himself. “Him and that damned kid that you brought for the operation.” He ran a tired hand down his face. “I swear to God, I should’ve gotten out the moment the Romanians started showing interest. I’m such a fool.”

  “You’re no fool.”

  Navari nodded. He was a fool, but not that much of a fool. “I’m a fool for allowing you talk me into agreeing to work with them. But it doesn’t matter. My contacts are frozen. I’m useless. You’ll need someone else to get you fake IDs and all that.”

  He made a dismissive gesture with his hand, already tired of having the conversation.

  “Personally, I really hope we don’t ever meet again, David.”

  David Swan looked at him and shook his head. He turned and left the small room Navari had been hiding in since he’d learnt that the portal had closed and the entire operation had failed. It was now his small safe cocoon until his one contact that hadn’t frozen him out got him a fake ID and a way out of the country.

  As far as he was concerned, he needed to be as far away from the country as possible when the Romanians came looking for the guy they’d sent.

  As for David, that was a different case. Navari wasn’t a very religious person. His parents had been Christians, but he’d stopped going to church the moment he was in charge of his own life. Regardless, he found himself praying that David did not escape. He hoped the Romanians found him when they came.

  Judging from how terrified the man had looked before leaving, Navari was more than certain something bad was about to happen and the man knew it.

  A lot of people didn’t know it about David, but the man was a roach, and the worst kind. He would sell his mother if it would get him what he wanted.

  “Run, you little fucker,” Navari muttered, staring at the closed door in front of him. “Run as long as you can until the Romanians get you.”

  His phone vibrated in his pocket, drawing his attention, and he pulled it out. The caller ID was hidden but he picked up the call and placed the phone to his ear.

  He waited, knowing better than to speak first.

  “Nav,” the voice came in from the other end.

  “What do you have for me, Ten?”

  “Bad news.”

  Panic rose in Navari’s throat like bile. Had the Romanians arrived? Had they come for him? “What do you mean?” he asked.

  “No idea,” Ten replied. “But shit just hit the fan. There are rumors of my contacts getting hit. Every body’s getting hit, actually.”

  “What? Do we know why?”

  “No idea.” Ten was whispering, as if he was hiding. “I’m just giving you a head’s up. Everyone’s going down.”

  “Do you think it’s the Romanians?”

  “Fuck the Romanians,” Ten swore. “The Romanians I know don’t have this kind of firepower to spare on assholes like us. We aren’t that important.”

  “What do you mean by firepower?”

  “Dude, it all started an hour ago and they’ve already hit eight safehouses I know. They’ve taken down all my men. Spider’s not picking my calls anymore so I’m sure he’s already a goner. Nobody…”

  His voice went silent as something loud erupted in the background. Then there was an explosion, followed by the sound of gunshots.

  “Ten, what’s happening?” Navari barked. “Talk to me!”

  “Fuck me!” Ten swore, amidst the sound of movement and gunshots. “What the fuck did we do? Why the fuck would they send a [Mage] after us? Navari, fuck passports. You should run. In fact, turn yourself in to the police because that’s what I’m about to do. If I make it out of here alive.”

  “What’s happening? What [Mage]?” Navari felt as if his bladder would give out on him. “Ten.”

  “No, don’t do it. I swear I know nothing.” Ten’s voice was loud in his ear, but Navari knew that the man was no longer addressing him. “I just run an ID service. I swear, I don’t know what you want but I’ll give you anything. Everything.”

  A voice came through in response. “I only want one thing?”

  “Name it. I’ll get it for you no matter what?” Navari had never heard Ten so panicked before.

  However, even though that was enough to terrify him, the woman’s words made him bolt out of his chair and start running for the door.

  “Where,” she said, “is David Swan?”