Chapter 2 · My Stalker Is the Dark Lord (1)

8:00 a.m. The Major Crimes division of the NYPD smelled like burnt coffee and bad decisions.

Liora's desk was occupied by two things: an oat-milk latte Lucas had brought her, and a stack of Thirteenth Body reports she was supposed to be reading. Her attention, however, was on the window. Across the street, the rundown building opposite her apartment—the one that had been advertising FOR RENT for eighteen months—had a brand-new sign overnight:

THORNE SECURITY CONSULTING GROUP.

Behind the glass wall of the top floor, you could make out… a throne.

"That's his company, isn't it." Lucas Rodriguez set his coffee down across from her and rapped the desk with two fingers. "Most expensive zip code in Manhattan, three floors bought overnight, sign says 'security consulting,' CEO is Kael Ashveil. Liora, the 'stalker' you met in the morgue is rich enough to buy half the borough."

"He's a murder suspect," she said, not looking up. "Or a maniac who believes I've killed him ten thousand times."

"Which one keeps you up at night?"

She finally looked at him. Lucas was the best prosecutor in the city—warm, reliable, smiling like April sunlight. He was the only person in New York she'd call a friend. But lately she'd noticed something: his smile was too precise. As if measured.

"Neither," she said. "I slept great, thanks."

"Liar." Lucas pointed at the shadows under her eyes. "The color under your eyes is darker than your coffee."

"You're wasted as a prosecutor." Liora reached for the latte. "You should set up a fortune-telling booth—"

The cup was intercepted mid-air by a hand that hadn't been there a second ago.

Kael Ashveil was standing behind her. Black suit, white shirt, cuffs impeccable, radiating the energy of a man who had slept in the building across the street and considered that a courtship strategy. He sniffed the latte like it was a vial of poison. Then he upended the entire cup into his mouth.

"Terrible," he said flatly. "It tastes like regret, boiled."

"That… was mine," Lucas said, gently. "Sir, drinking someone's beverage without permission is actionable in New York."

"Sue me." Kael set the empty cup on her desk, and his crimson gaze slid over Lucas with the warmth of a glacier. "I'd like to see mortal law stop a Shadow Sovereign who's lived twelve thousand years. Also—you smile too much, Prosecutor. Humans don't smile like that."

The air in the room went tight.

Liora's temple throbbed. She pulled a backup black coffee from her drawer and took a long sip, then surveyed both men. "This is a police station, not a farmers' market. Mr. Ashveil. Why are you here?"

Kael's attention snapped back to her with a speed that made Lucas's professional smile freeze mid-curve. He produced a thermos and set it before her. "Brewed this morning. Starlight tea. Nourishes your soul."

"I don't drink liquids of unknown origin."

"I brewed it myself." He paused, then added, with total seriousness, "I brewed it for three thousand years just to have one morning like this."

Silence fell over Major Crimes.

In the corner, young Officer Millie held her mug to her chest and whispered to her partner: "Oh my God. He's in love with her."

"Shut up," Liora said.

"I didn't say anything."

"Your breathing is too loud."

Kael looked at her, and the corner of his mouth curved in a way that made the office lights flicker dim for half a second, then bright again. He set the thermos down, turned to leave, took two steps, came back, and produced a set of car keys from his inner pocket.

"Black car downstairs. Airbags thicker than a tank."

"I don't need—"

"You do. Don't go out tonight." His voice dropped, for her ears only. "Those thirteen bodies were the appetizer. Someone doesn't want you alive tomorrow."

He left the way he'd come, without sound. The door closed, and the entire unit exhaled at once. Millie clutched her chest. "I formally recommend every woman in this city file a harassment complaint against him. I volunteer to be first."

Lucas laughed. Liora noticed that when he laughed, his right ring finger brushed the inside of his jacket pocket.

The way people do when they're hiding something.

She filed that detail away. Said nothing.

At 4:00 p.m., the coordinates resolved.

The runes on the thirteen bodies had moved—during the day. The forensic team had scanned and compared: every night at 3:13 a.m., the marks rearranged themselves like living things. Today's arrangement pointed at a single coordinate: Queens. The old Voss Observatory.

By the time Liora stood on the coordinate, the sky had gone black. The observatory had been abandoned for thirty years. The dome had rusted to deep red, and rain leaked through the shattered glass roof, pooling on the concrete floor in a hundred broken mirrors.

"This was your family's property." Lucas walked ahead with a flashlight. "Your family records say your great-great-grandfather studied the stars here. In 1902, he sold everything and moved away overnight. No one ever knew why."

"I know why," Liora said.

She stood at the center of the observatory, looking up at the rusted telescope. It was aimed at the sky. Something was jammed in the barrel, catching moonlight—a glint of metal.

She reached in and pulled out a badge. Silver. Coin-sized. An inverted star engraved on the face, identical to the marks on the corpses.

On the back, a line of text: VOSS, ETERNAL WATCH.

"Your ancestors…" Lucas's voice came from behind her, strange. "Were Keepers?"

"Not my ancestors." Liora closed her fingers around the badge. "That's my handwriting."

The air stopped moving.

The glass roof detonated.

Three massive black beasts fell out of the rain—bodies of solidified shadow, no eyes, jaws cracking open to reveal rows of silver teeth. They were hounds dragged from some older, darker world.