Page 23 of Allie

"Yeah, that's right." His reply came guarded, a flicker of recognition passing over his features as he took in Roan's imposing frame. "I'm Todd."

"Sorry to hear about Doyle," Asa chimed in, slipping into the conversation with an ease that belied his hawk-like observation. "He was... unique."

"Unique," Todd echoed, a hollow laugh escaping him. "That's one way to put it."

Draven leaned forward, elbows on the table, his dark eyes locked onto Todd's face. "You know, we saw you in a photo at Doyle's place. He mentioned you were close."

"Did he now?" Todd shifted uncomfortably in his seat, casting a glance at the empty glass before him.

"Towards the end, he seemed off," I offered softly, trying to sound as non-confrontational as possible. "Did you notice anything... strange?"

"Strange?" Todd's voice cracked slightly, and he cleared his throat, looking past us to the door as if considering an escape. "Doyle was always a bit strange, but yeah, the last few weeks, he was different. Distracted, paranoid even."

"Paranoid?" Draven prodded gently, his usual stoicism giving way to keen interest.

"Kept going on about some mistake he'd made, something that was coming back to bite him." Todd's fingers drummed an anxious rhythm on the wooden tabletop. "I didn't think much of it—Doyle could be a bit dramatic—but now..."

The revelation sent a shiver down my spine, and I shared a loaded glance with Roan, whose jaw tightened imperceptibly. The mystery surrounding Doyle's death was thickening like fog rolling in from the sea, and every new detail seemed only to obscure our view further.

"Thanks for sharing, Todd," I said, my voice barely above a whisper, though it quivered with sincerity. "We're just trying to piece things together."

"Look," he said, his voice a low rumble of thunder in the quiet of O'Malley's, "I should've done something. I saw the signs, you know? But Doyle was so damn... convinced he could handle it."

"Handle what?" Roan's question sliced through the tension like a knife.

Todd hesitated, his gaze flickering toward the dimly lit bar where a neon beer sign. "He got mixed up in some seriously dark stuff. A cult," he finally admitted, his words tumbling out like rocks in a landslide. "Dark magic and all that craziness. I thought it was just a phase or something he read too much into."

The air seemed to thicken with his confession, and an icy chill danced across my skin. Draven's arm draped over my shoulder—a silent anchor in the swirling sea of uncertainty.

"Did Doyle ever mention anyone from this cult?" Asa asked, his voice steady but eyes betraying a storm of thoughts beneath.

"No, he was tight-lipped about it. All secretive, you know?" Todd rubbed his forehead, leaving a smudge of worry etched between his brows. "But he was scared, kept saying they were after him for trying to leave or something. I never got the full story."

"Scared enough to..." I trailed off, unable to say the words 'end his own life.'

"Maybe." Todd's shoulders slumped, a sigh escaping him like the soul of a haunted house. "I keep thinking maybe if I'd pushed harder, dragged it out of him..."

"Hey," I interjected, wanting to dispel the cloud of remorse that clung to him, "you can't blame yourself for someone else's demons."

"Easy for you to say," he muttered, but the fight had gone out of him.

"Anything you can remember could help," Draven said softly, and I marveled at how his voice could be both commanding and comforting at the same time.

"Sorry, that's all I've got," Todd replied, pushing back from the table. "Just... be careful, okay? If what Doyle said is true, these people, they don't play around."

"Thanks, Todd," Roan said, and there was a promise in his tone—promise that we'd tread carefully but also seek the truth.

Todd nodded once and offered us a weak smile before getting up and disappearing into the crowd.

* * *

I fumbledwith the keys at my apartment door. Draven's presence loomed behind me, silent and electric. Roan and Asa went to his apartment next to mine to look at both books we took from Doyle’s place. Asa was hoping he could pick up a vision that could help us learn more about the cult. I had to feed Aspirin, so Draven came with me.

The lock gave way, and I pushed the door open, stepping into the familiar scent of sandalwood and vanilla that perpetually lingered in my apartment. I flicked on the lights.

"Make yourself at home," I said, my attempt at nonchalance betrayed by the slight tremor in my voice. I moved to my bedroom, acutely aware of Draven's gaze following my every move.

A few moments later, I came out of the bedroom with Aspirin cradled in one arm and her bowl in my free hand. Once I got her settled on the kitchen floor with her food, I met Draven’s gaze. "Can I get you something to drink?"