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  “Kinda busy now, man,” said Trevor, his dark features clear as he stood beneath a streetlight. He was in front of a shabby building decorated with a jumble of graffiti. Dec could hear the slosh of water—Trevor was in a canal zone. And he looked pissed.

  “What’s up?”

  Trevor’s lip curled, revealing a stark-white canine. “Just taking care of some business.”

  He’d probably just Marked someone. “Got it. You want me to come and help out?” Dec often worked with Trevor, guiding the souls Trev had doomed.

  Trevor shook his head. “I’m all set.”

  “Who’s that?” asked a female voice, somewhere offscreen.

  “No one,” snapped Trev. “Talk to you later, man.”

  Then he hung up. What was up with him? The device buzzed in his hand, and Dec hoped it was Trev calling back, but it was Aislin. Dec answered.

  His sister’s pale face appeared on his screen, her blue eyes shadowed with fatigue. “Declan,” she said by way of greeting. “How are you?”

  “I’m good. I was actually just checking in on Galena Margolis. What’s up?”

  She gave him a weary smile. “Honestly? I wanted to spend three minutes of my day talking to someone who doesn’t want something from me.”

  Dec exited the building and sat on a low brick wall next to the sidewalk. “Rough day, huh?”

  “Exceedingly. Cleaning up after Rylan is going to be much more difficult than I anticipated. Our contacts both in the human world and the supernatural one have certain . . . expectations.”

  Bribes, probably. Dec had always suspected Rylan was crooked as hell, even before he’d taken over as CEO. “Are you going to meet those expectations?” Aislin had taken the reins, which meant all the pressure was on her—including from creatures who wanted Galena Margolis dead.

  Aislin’s eyes were like chips of ice. “As always, I will do what I think is right. But I wish Father were here,” she added quietly.

  Dec’s chest ached. He’d never had that kind of relationship with their father, but he knew Aislin had been much closer to him. “Hey, can I ask you something? What did he say to you, before he walked into the Afterlife?”

  Aislin took in a sharp breath, and she paused just long enough for Dec to realize what a private question that was, especially for her. Aislin had always played things incredibly close to the vest. “Never mind,” he said. “You don’t have to tell me. It’s just been on my mind lately.”

  She tilted her head, her gaze taking on a familiar calculating glint. It reminded Dec of Rylan. “Then maybe we should have dinner soon and discuss it,” she said, her voice soft but level. She sat up a little straighter. “Anyway, I should go. I just wanted to—”

  “Wait, Aislin,” he said, knowing she was about to hang up. “Have there been more threats against Galena?”

  Aislin smoothed her already-smooth hair. “There have been whispers. Nothing specific.”

  “What kind of whispers?”

  “This is of particular interest to you?”

  “Maybe.”

  Her eyes narrowed, as if she were trying to see into his brain. “Like I said, nothing specific. And Dr. Margolis has all the protection we can reasonably provide.”

  “Cavan and the ambassador from the Lucinae have arrived for your dinner meeting, Ms. Ferry,” said a male voice on Aislin’s end.

  Aislin sighed. “Send them up.” She returned her attention to Dec. “I hope you’re well, Declan. Thank you for talking to me.”

  “Always a pleasure. Good luck.”

  Her face disappeared, and Dec shook his head. He wouldn’t trade places with her for anything. She was scrambling to keep everyone either happy or cowed in order to keep the gold flowing and the empire under control.

  Dec looked back toward the building behind him. Galena was in there, doing her lab tests or DNA sequencing or whatever. She was happy and focused. It had been magnetic. Riveting to watch. He gripped his phone tightly. There have been whispers.

  He’d hoped the threat to Galena had been eliminated when his brother and Mandy, the rogue Ker who’d been working with him, were stopped.

  But he’d worked on the streets for too long to be that naive. Protect her and you protect the future. What was he supposed to do, though? He was just a paramedic, for God’s sake. He’d wanted Aislin to tell him that their father had told her to protect Galena, too. It would have made him feel a little better to share the responsibility. Aislin had a different kind of power.

  As it stood, the weight of his father’s last request was still heavy on his shoulders—and Galena’s face was still bright in his mind.

  He wasn’t sure which was more motivating, but as he sat outside her building, sweating in the heat of the early evening, he decided it didn’t matter. No matter who or what was coming after Galena, Dec was going to make sure she was safe.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Galena got up in midafternoon and made herself some coffee. She’d worked through the night but she’d been distracted—except this time, it hadn’t been with the past. Declan Ferry’s face had kept floating through her mind.

  It was both exciting and confusing. Last night, when he was in the lab, next to her, she’d felt the attraction. Undeniable and real. It had made her feel light-headed. But she hadn’t been with anyone since the attack. She’d buried herself in her work and avoided coming up for air. And she wasn’t even sure what would happen if she tried to go out with someone. What if he expected more than she could give? What if he pushed? What if he—

  She set her coffee cup down so hard that the bitter brown liquid inside sloshed over the rim. They took so much, and they just keep taking. Her eyes stung with unshed tears as she looked down at her body, a puzzle she might never solve. How could she simultaneously want something and be so terrified of it?

  “This is irrelevant,” she whispered, smoothing her hands over her face. “He probably isn’t interested anyway.” And she didn’t have time for it, either. “Move. Keep moving.”

  She grabbed a quick shower—she took advantage of running water whenever she could. It was a luxury she’d never had before moving to Boston, unless you counted the running water in the University of Pittsburgh’s privately funded laboratories, but that had been carefully monitored and available only for experiments and with prior authorization. As she got ready, she ran over her plan for the evening. The three remaining volunteers should have all checked in while she was sleeping, so she’d be able to compare all five sets of results before moving forward. God, she loved data. It was real and certain. Comforting.

  As early as next week, she’d be starting on the next phase of the study. And that meant there was a lot of work to do to prepare, not only for her, but also for Ankita and Jian. She pulled her hair into a ponytail. Hopefully, Jian had come in well rested and ready to roll today. When he’d first come to work for her, he’d been full of energy. He’d seemed elated to have been selected as her research assistant. But yesterday, he’d been a mess.

  Mentally adding a pep talk for Jian to her to-do list, she hopped into the limo. Mike and the guard with the big gun chatted in front about the latest news from the Arctic Circle colonies—they had officially declared independence from Canada this morning, and there was probably going to be a war in the north. Seeing as how the colonies were now North America’s breadbasket, there was concern it might impact the food supply for the whole continent. Despite that potentially earthshaking news, Galena focused on checking her messages, including one from Dr. Cassidy, saying that Galena had been nominated for some kind of early career achievement award. That was nice. The car stopped, and Galena got out. As the guard escorted her to the door, she felt a little ungrateful hoping that if she won the award, she wouldn’t have to give a speech.

  “Hey, Dr. M,” called Ankita, poking her head out from behind one of the sequencers as Galena walked into the lab. Her research assistant’s long black hair was in a knot at the back of her head, and her dark skin stood in elegant
contrast to the beige paint of the machine. “This big guy has the flu, I think. He’s been making some weird clicking noises, and he was spitting out some awfully funny data earlier.”

  As if in response to that accusation, the machine emitted a few rhythmic clicks. Galena had never heard a sequencer make that kind of noise. “Is that the one Jian was working on?”

  Ankita shrugged. “He took off early today. Seemed pretty stressed, actually. He said to tell you he had an appointment and he’ll be in early tomorrow to make it up. Unfortunately, the machine didn’t start acting up until after he left.” She let out an irritated sigh.

  Galena frowned as the sequencer clicked a few more times. It almost sounded as if some of the mechanical parts were smacking against something. Maybe a blockage of some kind. She was pretty sure it was the same one Jian had been working on yesterday. And he’d promised to fix it today. Clearly, something was still going on with him. She was going to have to talk to him before it really started to impact their work . . . unless it already had. “That’s the one we used to sequence V3, isn’t it?”

  Ankita nodded, coming out from behind the machine with her tablet in her hand. “Yes. V3.” She gave Galena a shy smile. “I thought he was cute. Nice eyes.”

  Galena rolled her eyes playfully and awakened Danny’s screen with a friendly caress. V3 had brown hair and hazel eyes. He was twenty-eight years old, the same age as Galena. He had some genetic markers for depression, but apart from that, his DNA was gorgeous, with no mutations. He had smiled at her while Ankita injected him with the customized vaccine Galena had created. She’d looked away at first and then forced herself to look back and smile in return.

  Thank you for volunteering, she had said. We’re going to take good care of you.

  That had been just a week before. “How did his check-in go?” she asked.

  “We haven’t heard from him or V4,” Ankita said. “V5 came in earlier. I’ve already uploaded her results. Looking good so far.”

  V4. Twenty-six. Black hair so curly and poofy that Galena had wanted to touch it, just to watch it spring back into shape. DNA that whispered to Galena of future diabetes and Alzheimer’s. Because she was a woman, it had been easy to meet V4’s eyes, to smile and assure her that she was in good hands.

  “Have you tried calling V3 and V4?”

  “Twice. No answer from either one. Do you want me to try again?”

  Galena checked the time on the screen. It was nearly five, and all the volunteers knew to come in by four for their blood work. “No, I’ll take care of it. Go ahead and focus on getting that sequencer running smoothly again.”

  “I’ll see what I can do.”

  Ankita headed over to the temperamental machine, and Galena brought up the personal information for V3 and V4. V3 lived up in Medford, but V4 lived near downtown Boston on West Street. A quick perusal of the computer map showed V4 was on the east side of the dangerous swampland of the Boston Common. Galena rubbed her palms on her thighs. She hoped V4 wasn’t having the same kind of day V2 had yesterday, but—

  Home invasions are tragic but so common these days.

  Galena flinched, rubbing at her temple. That was what Rylan Ferry had said right before he pressed his gun to her head. Her fist clenched. The last thing she needed was for him to join the dark monsters already lurking in her brain, eager for the chance to ambush her in a weak moment. It was so draining, trying to keep them caged. She sifted through the information on Danny’s screen, trying to calm her churning stomach as poisonous fear wound through her.

  This was the reason she ate so little. She was sick with this fear. Every day. All the time. And no matter how far down she’d tried to push the memories that caused that fear, they were always waiting.

  She heard her phone buzz with a text, and she pulled it from her bag. It was Eli.

  Already at the lab?

  Yep.

  Did you eat?

  Stop worrying.

  I’ll take that as a no.

  She let out a quiet breath of laughter. He knew her too well. I will. I promise.

  Good. Love you.

  Love you too.

  She was about to put the phone back in her bag when it rang with a call. The number wasn’t in her contacts, but she recognized it anyway, because she’d just been looking at it on Danny’s screen. She’d given all the volunteers her cell number in case they had any questions or concerns, including V4. And now she was calling Galena.

  “Hello?”

  The sound of rapid breaths made Galena’s throat tighten.

  “Hello?” she repeated.

  “He said . . . he did this . . . to me . . . because of you,” a female voice finally whispered, her breathing agonized and wet. “He . . . said you . . . had to stop.”

  Heat and horror swept across Galena’s skin. “Are you all right?”

  The woman moaned softly. “Your research . . . stop.”

  Galena’s knuckles went white as she gripped the phone. With her other hand, she called up her tracking program and entered V4’s phone number. The tracker told her the woman was calling from her own apartment. “Are you hurt? Do you need an ambulance? I can call one for you right now.”

  A choked, gurgling sob was the only reply.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Dec leaned back and ran his hands through his hair. He could hear the other paramedics laughing and joking in the locker room down the hall, but he was glad to have his own office. He was used to taking care of other people, always being the one responsible for solving everyone else’s problems, but he needed to be alone to unwind. No demands. No pressure. No expectations.

  It had been a long shift. Trevor had stormed out of Dec’s office half an hour ago, ranting about how his new partner couldn’t navigate his way out of an insta-cold limbsack, let alone the narrow canals near the edges of Chinatown. Dec had suggested maybe Trev needed a vacation, but he’d just flipped Dec off and left. Dec grunted. He felt ready to do the same thing. Five calls, three casualties, two souls shuttled to Heaven while his partner, Carol, cleaned their rig. As for the third soul . . . well, that one had been destined for Hell, and the guy had figured it out before Dec even had a chance to pull his Scope open and loop it over the guy’s head. He’d run. But there was no way Dec would be responsible for yet another Shade in the Veil.

  Dec had tackled the guy right before he’d reached the edge of the canal, probably thinking he could jump in and swim away. He’d been pretty speedy for a recently dead soul. Already annoyed, Dec had zero patience for the man’s frantic bargaining and semicoherent snarls—a signal that this dead soul was already becoming rabid. Dec had punched him into submission and shoved him through the portal to Hell in less than a minute. The gold coin, payment for his hard work, had flown out a moment later, and Dec, winded and distracted, had reflexively caught the red-hot hunk of metal still blazing from the fires of Hell. The burn on his palm was already nearly healed, along with his bloody knuckles—thank God all Ferrys healed ridiculously fast.

  But the fatigue remained. It was a bone-deep tiredness mixed with boredom. Same routine, different day. Every day. Every fucking day.

  Well, maybe not every day. For a brief time the previous evening, he’d felt himself waking up, coming alive. The drudgery of today had pretty much erased his excellent mood, though.

  Once again, he considered retiring. He’d fantasized about it for years, but he had never pulled the trigger. He never spent his money, so he had plenty of it. He could hand over his paramedic badge and his Scope. He could move to his little cabin on Baffin Island, surrounded by mountains on all sides, where everyone would leave him the fuck alone, where no one knew who his family was. Where he could live a normal human life.

  It was pretty damn tempting.

  His computer screen lit up, and Dec leaned forward.

  “One EMS unit to number three West Street, apartment twenty-four,” droned the dispatcher, her words simultaneously appearing as text on his screen. “Suspected assaul
t. Number of casualties unknown. Injuries unknown. Police and fire notified. They have advised that it’ll be a minimum of thirty until they’re on scene.” Her voice echoed down the hall, where the rest of the crew was probably listening from the garage.

  Dec sighed. Most of his guys had just come off a hard shift, and the new shift had barely started. They were probably still cataloging supplies and getting their rigs ready for a long night. He got to his feet. He hadn’t changed out of his uniform yet. He had nobody waiting for him at home. And it wasn’t like he could show up at Galena’s lab for a second night in a row without a pretty damn good excuse. He paused, realizing he’d actually been considering it. “Answer the damn call, Dec,” he muttered, entering the garage and looking over at Paula, the new night shift supervisor. A solidly built woman with steel-gray hair and dark-brown skin, she was standing with her arms folded, staring at the videowall. Earlier this week, he’d quietly transferred Len, the former night shift supervisor, to the Jamaica Plain EMS. He couldn’t stomach keeping the man around after what he’d said about Cacy—and the fact that he’d tossed Eli into the disease-infested canal. Paula was a veteran paramedic, and Dec trusted her to take a more professional approach. “I’ll take this one,” Dec said to her.

  “I was about to send Manny and Gil,” she replied, still looking at the screen. It showed only the outside of the apartment building.

  “Any more info from Dispatch? Is the scene secure?”

  “There’s no info at all,” she replied. “We don’t have any eyes inside, because the call didn’t come from the apartment, so the connection to any security cams inside the unit wasn’t triggered.” She pointed at her control screen. “The dispatch display says the call came from Cambridge.”