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In the dim of the alley, she composes herself, straightening as she turns in a slow circle and then back to face me. Her eyes are gleaming with a new light, something caught between the laser focus she had in the club as we went about our surveillance, and a thread of wry humor, a bit of levity that lightens her whole expression and tugs at the corners of her lips.

It’s incredibly appealing on her, that look.

As is the loosening of the tension between us as it sinks in how poorly this attempt at spycraft has gone. A shared failure, though the disappointment of it is lessened immensely by this strange camaraderie that’s sprung up between us.

“Exceptionally well,” I drawl. “A break in the case if I’ve ever seen one.”

With another soft laugh, Ophelia crosses her arms and props one hip, filled with a cocky sort of determination. “So, where do we go from here?”

I don’t want to get hung up on the ‘we’ in her sentence, or to consider what it means that she’s apparently made peace with working this case together.

“From here…” I say slowly, thinking. “We call it a night. And tomorrow we start working to find out what exactly it is that makes the coven so damned determined to keep us out of their affairs.”

“Works for me,” she says gamely. “I’ll call you tomorrow and we can meet up?”

Another needling thread of something I shouldn’t examine, the fact that shecancall me. No matter what she was thinking that day at the Bureau, it wasn’t enough for her to tear the card I gave her into shreds and leave it in the nearest trash can.

“I’ll look forward to your call.”

We share a silent moment—long, but comfortable, an unspoken acknowledgment of where we’ve found ourselves. On the same side. Partnered, for however long this case might last.

An unlikely alliance, but one I’m not about to question.

“Great,” Ophelia says. “See you tomorrow, then.”

She turns to go, and I call after her.

“Do you need a ride? To wherever it is you're staying here in the city?”

Blair wasn’t forthcoming about the details of her accommodations—and probably for good reason—but curiosity gets the better of me. Curiosity, and some strange unwillingness to see her head off into the night alone.

Ophelia arches a brow. “I can call a cab.”

“And run up Bureau expenses? Surely Cleo would frown upon such extravagance when a complimentary option has been offered.”

Her lip quirks up again as she considers the offer, and when she nods, I try not to let it feel like another victory. I’ve certainlyhad enough of those for the evening and don’t need to let myself become greedy.

“Sure. Why not? Where are you parked?”

Silently, I gesture to the far end of the alley and we fall into a companionable silence as we walk together over the cobblestones and detritus, past the ivy-covered wall I had her pressed up against just a short half hour ago.

How different the night seems now.

It’s a trick of my blood-addled, muddled thoughts, of that I’m certain, but the streetlights glow brighter, the cool night air sparkles with promise, and each step feels lighter as we leave the Raven behind.

11

Ophelia

I’m in Casimir’s car.

I’m in Casimir’s sleek, black, veryexpensive-looking car, letting him drive me back to my van.

Something soft and classical plays on the radio, and the leather upholstery feels like butter against the sliver of skin between the bottom of my dress and the tops of my boots. Casimir has one hand on the wheel, the other resting idly on the center console between us.

We drive southeast out of downtown, passing under streetlights that illuminate the car’s luxe interior in a gentle cycle of light and dark, throwing all the sharp lines of Casimir’s face into even more dramatic angles when I chance a look over at him.

He seems… calm. Cool, collected, absolutely fine with all of this, like it wasn’t just a little over twenty-four hours ago that I wanted absolutely nothing to do with him.