Some secrets don’t stay buried.

Mage archivist Trish Vander tracks the truth like vampires track blood.

When a prominent vampire bloodline is slaughtered overnight
without witnesses, suspects, or motive, the Council sends Trish to investigate.
As a mindweaver, she’s trained to piece together broken magic. But when she
crosses paths with a faeborne hunter from her past and a vampire watching her from the shadows, it gets harder to tell who’s protecting the secret and who’s
part of it.

The deeper she digs, the messier it gets.

Someone wanted the Redbornes erased for good.

And if Trish isn’t careful, she’ll be next.

• Solve-along mystery
  
• Dark & Gritty World
  
• Enemies to Lovers
  
• Enemies that need to Solve a Case together
  
• Determined Mage Heroine
  
• Obsessed Vampire
  
• Brooding Faeborne Hunter
  
• Blaise x Hermione x Draco vibes

TRISH

I shouldn’t be doing this.

The thought drums in my head as I stare at the name on my screen, finger hovering over the call button.
I should be headed out the door to go to Sully’s deli to grab breakfast before the line gets too long, not debating whether to call.

He probably changed his number anyway. He should have. Most people do. I should have deleted it.
But I didn’t. Because when he gave it to me, he told me to keep it. Call me whenever you need me. No matter what.

And for that alone I couldn’t get rid of it. It was my last life line to him, one I had no business still holding onto, but couldn’t let go.

I exhale sharply. I have to call. Lucas is my best lead.

Before I can convince myself out of it, I press the button, and lift the phone to my ear.

It rings once. Twice.

Hang up. He’s not going to answer. It’s probably not even his phone number anymore.

Yet, before I end the call, it connects.
“Hello?”

The sound of Lucas’s deep vibrato hits me like a kick in the chest. My breath catches and my grip tightens around the phone.

“Hello?” Lucas asks again.

He sounds the same. Steady. Certain. Like the years in between never happened. Like he never left. My stomach twists into a sharp knot as each second of silence stretches between us.

I can’t answer. My voice stops working.

He speaks again—softer this time, but edged with something I can’t place— “Trish? Is that you?”

My throat locks up and my pulse hammers in my ears.

A thousand thoughts push to the surface, but none of them make it past my lips. Yes, it’s me. I need your help. Why did you leave? The words are there, tangled up with everything I never got to say, but my voice won’t cooperate.
And then, in the background, someone speaks.

“Who’s that?” a woman asks.

She isn’t loud, but she’s close enough for me to hear her which means she’s right next to him. The familiarity in her voice paints a picture I don’t want to see. Lucas in a dimly lit apartment, leaning against the doorframe with someone curled into his space, stealing his attention, the way I used to.

The knot in my stomach snaps tight. This is too much.

“Is everythin—” Lucas asks, but I don’t let him finish.

I hang up.

I don't know what to do at first. Stare. I do a lot of staring at the phone while my hands shake and realization settles in.

I just called my ex. The man I'd promised myself that I'd never talk to again. And it's probably triggered him. Quickly, I cover my stupidity. I text him: Sorry. Mistake.

I see him texting back, but after a beat, it stops. Still, I stare at my phone, hoping he'd say something.

Long after the call ends, my hands still shake, and it takes a concerted effort to pry my fingers from the phone, shove it deep into my pocket, and pretend like the call never happened.

It was stupid to call. Stupid to think he'd respond. What was I even thinking?

Lucas and I are over. Have been for years. The Guild redacted the files and the Guild should have been my first choice. Not Lucas.

He’s my last resort.

Inside my pocket, my phone rings. I ignore it as I grab my work bag, check my watch, and groan. I’ll barely have enough time to get to the Upper West Side and back before I have to be in the Archives for my shift. But the council wants this off the books, so I’ll have to make do.

On my way out the door, my phone buzzes again. Still, I don’t look at it. I can’t look at it. Instead, I pretend it’s not there. While I’m at it, I skip breakfast at Sully’s and head straight for the 1 train downtown that way I won’t have to hear it if he calls again.

By the time I step onto the platform, my phone has gone off three times, but I’ve been diligent about ignoring each one of his calls. Now, I won’t have to. In the underground, the signal is already slipping. It buzzes once. Twice. Then it’s gone and I relax as the train pulls into station.

contains supernatural violence, sex, obsession, stalking, and dark themes. 18+