Page 36

EVE

The smell was awful.

Burnt flesh and something damp and sour clung to the air as we entered the apartment.

I coughed softly, trying not to gag as I stepped into the cramped studio.

There were clear signs of a struggle: a coffee table that lay in pieces on the carpet, the window to the fire escape smashed and letting a slight breeze stir the curtains.

Ragnar dropped the daema onto the battered futon with a grunt. The impact sent a puff of dust into the air, and the man groaned.

He wasn’t what I expected, not after the monsters I’d come across so far.

His horns curled back sharply from his head, and his teeth were sharp enough to tear flesh, but otherwise? He looked… normal. Not like the others. His glowing yellow eyes flicked to mine, sharp and assessing, and I swallowed hard, forcing myself to hold his gaze.

“Stop staring at her,” Ragnar snapped, his tone sharp enough to make me flinch. He didn’t even look at me as he stalked to the edge of the room, arms crossed, his presence radiating barely-contained fury.

The daema shifted upright, his skin knitting itself together slowly, patches of blackened burns fading to ashen gray. It was horrifying and fascinating. He was healing like it was nothing.

“Ragnar,” the daema rasped. His lips curled into a pained smile, revealing a flash of sharp incisors. “Still a bastard, I see.”

“Hello, Azremond. Was there any need for the theatrics?” He gestured toward the burns that still lingered on his skin. “We’re only here to talk. You’re the one who fucking ran. Can’t blame us for taking offense.”

Azremond’s glowing eyes flicked back to me, studying me for a moment too long. His smile twisted into something sharp and knowing. “Who’s the human bonfire?”

“I told you to keep your eyes off her.”

Ragnar stepped between us, cutting off my view before turning his intense gaze on me. “Sit over there,” he said, jerking his chin toward the far corner of the room.

I bristled, crossing my arms tightly. “I’m not a child—”

“Now. Don’t fucking test me, woman.”

I wanted to argue, but for once, I couldn’t bring myself to fight him. So I stomped to the chair anyway, flinging myself down with exaggerated defiance. The springs creaked under my weight, and I didn’t miss the faint twitch of Ragnar’s lips—half a smirk, half irritation.

I hated that smile more than I hated his scowl.

Ragnar didn’t waste any time. He stalked across the room, towering over Azremond like a predator closing in on its prey. His arms stayed crossed over his chest, but the tension in his shoulders radiated something dangerous, coiled tight and ready to snap.

“I don’t know what you’re so pissed about,” Azremond muttered, his voice still rough. “I didn’t ask to get torched.”

“You ran,” Ragnar growled. “Innocent daema don’t run, Az. You’ve been playing the harmless card for years, but now? Now I’m starting to see the benefit in getting rid of you.”

“You’ve got a terrible bluff, Ragnar.”

“Then it’s a good fucking job I don’t bluff,” Ragnar said coldly, taking a step closer.

I watched the exchange in silence, with Orion playing the silent sentinel beside the armchair and Xander by the front door, blocking the exit.

The room felt charged; each man stood stock still as Azremond looked around nervously.

I didn’t miss the flicker of unease in his yellow eyes when Ragnar leaned down, his voice dropping low enough that I had to strain to hear.

“I’m not in the mood for games. Tell me what I want to know, or I’ll make sure as shit this is the last time you ever run from us.”

Azremond let out a low chuckle, but it cracked halfway through, his smirk faltering. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Bullshit,” Ragnar snapped, his temper flaring.

He grabbed Azremond’s neck and yanked him forward, his voice a snarl.

“You think I don’t know what you’ve been up to?

Crawling around Earth’s underbelly all these years, your black market deals with the witches.

You know what’s happening. You always know. ”

“You’re going to have to be more specific, friend .”

Ragnar shoved him back against the mattress, hard enough to make the springs creak. “The daema activity. The uptick. The gatherings. Why the fuck are they getting bolder?”

Azremond stayed silent.

“Still don’t know?” Ragnar asked softly, his voice almost too calm. He leaned in again, his hand gripping Azremond’s shoulder in a way that made the daema flinch. “Should I start guessing, or do you want to save us both the trouble?”

Then the veins in his hand began to glow, and Azremond’s eyes widened.

“Alright, alright! I’ll tell you whatever you want to know!”

Ragnar released the daema, but the glow in his arm didn’t dampen. “Talk.”

“Look, I don’t know much, but what I do know is that the order finally came in. Every single daema sent to Earth got the same instruction: lay low for one Titan year—twenty-five of your Earth years—then, make your move. The confirmation came in a few weeks ago.”

“You’re saying you were sent here specifically? For what purpose?”

Azremond hesitated, his glowing yellow eyes flicking toward me for the briefest moment before Ragnar’s growl snapped his attention back.

“Not all of us. But the ones who were sent here did so looking for someone,” he said finally, his voice low. “Someone stole from Titan before the gates collapsed.”

“And who exactly do they think was stolen?”

Azremond wet his lips, his clawed fingers tapping nervously against the sheets. “A Phoenix.”

The words landed like a slap, reverberating in my chest and across the rest of the room.

My breath caught as something stirred within me, but I forced myself to stay still.

I dared a look at Orion, who had moved to stand by my chair.

His jaw was tense but his eyes were wide, like the daema was confirming his worst fears and deepest hopes.

“That’s not fucking possible,” Ragnar said flatly. “The last Phoenix died on Titan. That’s why the gates collapsed. There was no other Phoenix, we’d have known about it.”

Azremond shrugged, leaning back as if the weight of his confession was lifted.

“Believe me or don’t. I’m just telling you what I heard. Someone stole a Phoenix from Titan and brought it here. Corvus has been waiting for his daema to find them ever since.”

“Corvus is here?” Xander asked, his brow furrowed. The name was new to me, but I could tell it wasn’t someone we could consider a friend. “Since when?”

“Your guess is as good as mine. I only know what I’ve heard. But, it looks to me like they might be onto something.”

His gaze darted to me again, and my stomach dropped

“Don’t fucking look at her,” Ragnar snapped, stepping into his line of sight and blocking me from view again. His body was rigid, his anger rolling off him in waves, but I craned my head to see Azremond’s nervous gulp.

“I prefer to stay out of that mess. But if anyone knows more, it’s the witches.”

Ragnar’s jaw clenched. “Where?”

“The head of the coven lives just outside Roanoke. She’ll know more than me.”

Azremond repeated the address to Ragnar, who simply nodded before gesturing for the door. “We’re done here. If you’re lying, I’ll be back.”

“You think I’d risk your wrath for a lie? I like living too much for that.”

Ragnar slammed the door open so hard it bounced off the wall, leaving without so much as looking back to see if we had followed him. I stood slowly, my legs feeling like lead, and followed the others out of the apartment and into the dim alleyway.

Orion fell back to walk beside me as I lagged behind. “You sure you’re alright, Sunshine? Looks like you survived your first daema interrogation.”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I said automatically.

Orion raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. “You’ve got that look, you know. The ‘I’m about to overthink myself into a migraine’ look.”

I hesitated, my fingers twisting together as we walked. “Why didn’t you kill him? I thought you guys were hunting these creatures down, but you just let him go. Why?”

Orion glanced at me, his eyebrows raising slightly in surprise, but it was Xander who answered, his voice calm and even. “Because we’re not executioners.”

I turned to him, frowning. “But, he’s a daema. Isn’t that the whole point?”

“Not all daema are threats,” Xander said simply, his gaze steady on mine. “Az isn’t innocent, but he’s not dangerous—not in the way the others are. He trades in info. Black-market goods. Things worth keeping tabs on.”

Ragnar scoffed from ahead of us, clearly unimpressed by the explanation and our dallying, but he didn’t add anything.

I glanced between them, my thoughts still racing. “Do you believe him?”

Xander tilted his head slightly, his expression thoughtful. “A lot went dark in those final days on Titan. Who’s to say what really happened?”

The knot in my chest tightened. His words only made the truth seem more impossible, more terrifying. If I was somehow the Phoenix, did that mean someone had kidnapped me? Was my mom even my real mom? Or had she run from me when she’d learned the truth of who I really was under this human skin?

Those questions felt too big when piled on top of the others, so I shoved them into the recess of my brain. I’d worry about that later, if I even had a later.

We stopped at the mouth of the alley, Ragnar already waiting impatiently, his expression like thunderclouds. “Let’s go,” he barked, holding out his arm.

I stepped closer hesitantly, feeling the weight of their gazes on me as I reached for Ragnar’s arm. The air around us felt charged, heavy with unspoken tension. As the teleportation magic began to take hold, I couldn’t stop the single thought that echoed in my head.

What the hell was I, and why did the daema want me so badly?