We’d managed to have our evening with our daughter. She’d been so happy with her gifts—mainly space-related—and we’d stayed up way too late having fun with Sophie and Luuk and Cherry.
Who would have thought it’d get to that when the hours before had been so dark?
I was thankful every day for my family. Every fucking day.
Jake was my fiancé.
Just like that. Both thinking the same thing. No drama, no worry, we’d both just come out with it. My reasoning was simple. I wasn’t holding it back anymore. Life was too short. Why wait? Why dwindle in angst when you could just take the leap and know for sure?
We’d have to go ring shopping. I couldn’t wait to see him wear a ring on his finger to show the world he was mine, and me his.
Out of the ashes of the Vissers and the actions of the Conclave, there was love. So much love.
Once the gorging on pancakes was done, Jake insisted on us all spreading out in the living room to watch Home Alone. It was his favorite Christmas film, which never failed to make him choke with laughter in the most entertaining way—no matter how many times he’d seen it.
Quarter of the way through the movie, there was a knock at the front door.
Jake looked at me. “We go together.”
“Who is it?” Louise asked.
“You wait here, sweetie,” Jake answered her.
“Okay, Daddy.”
Out in the hall, I pulled a dagger out from a hidden place in the wall Louise couldn’t reach, nor had any knowledge of. It was behind a panel I’d built into the wall in case of emergencies.
I’d treat every knock as an emergency now.
It was Mila, violet sari billowing in the wind. Though the weather still remained sunny, it was so cold out there. Mila seemed to be completely immune to the chill.
Lying in her hands was a long object wrapped in brown paper.
“Hallo,” she said. “How are you both?”
“Fine, thank you,” I answered, eyeing the package.
“I’m glad to hear it, though you both look exhausted.”
I’d fill her in on the details of the case later. The trust we had between us meant we always relayed information to one another.
“I’m pretty knackered,” Jake said.
“This was on your doorstep.”
“Oh.” I took it off her. “Thanks. Come in. We’ll make some tea.”
“I can’t stop for tea, but I have some information about that exploding man. Finally. I had to come here as you have both been impossible to contact since yesterday evening.”
“Sorry about that,” I said. “Case stuff.”
She swept past me but didn’t move much farther down the hall.
“Within that white substance,” she began, “as well as the wand crystal was a trace of Jake.”
Jake’s brow creased up. “You what?”
“A trace of you, call it your DNA. My assumption is that whoever made this concoction had come into contact with you at some point to receive a trace.”
“I don’t understand,” he replied.
“Is that how the exploding guy got through the wards?” I asked. “Because the wards recognized Jake?”
She flicked her long dark hair. “Correct.”
“Parker,” Jake said. “It was him. I shook his hand!”
“Clever man,” Mila replied. “He’s a man who knows exactly what he’s doing.”
This made no sense. “Seems a bit elaborate.”
“Yes, it does.”
“When I saw him at Flevopark,” Jake said, “he didn’t make a move to hurt me. But the exploding guy would’ve hurt me if I’d got to close.”
“A conundrum indeed,” Mila said. “Anyway, I must depart. I have more exploder potion brewed. I will be bottling it all up tomorrow, so please feel free to come by if your stocks are running low.”
“Thanks, Mila.” I opened the door for her.
“Yeah, thanks for letting us know,” Jake added, looking ghostly pale.
“Of course. Should anything else arise, I shall be in contact. Goodbye.”
She strode away, not looking back.
“A trace of me,” Jake said. “He wanted to blow us up? If he’s with the Conclave, then why is he using liquid wand crystal? What the hell is going on here?” He was shaking.
Louise’s laughter rang from the living room.
“We’ll figure this out, baby,” I said softly.
“Tessa and the triplets down,” he responded, “how many players to go? There’s her twins left, now Parker—whoever the fuck he really is!”
This was one major splinter—the kind that went deep. “I promise you we’ll sort this.”
Promises were strange things. No one should throw them around callously, especially when then ball wasn’t in your court. But Jake made me want to offer him that. A promise to him was something I wanted to see through.
What if you can’t?
“Shall we open that?” he asked, gesturing to the package in my hand.
I dry swallowed. “Y-yeah. Erm, yeah.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, fine.” I tore into the brown paper.
“Is there a card?” he asked.
“No. Not that I can see. Ah, wait. There’s something inside …. Oh, shit!”
“What is it?” He moved beside me to see what it was. “My spear!”
There it was, good as knew—Jake’s lost weapon. And there was a card with it. As soon as Jake’s hand curled around it, the white smoke wisped to life.
“Now I’m freaked out,” he said. “Happy to have it back, but what the actual fuck?”
The card! In printed black ink, it read:
Best wishes,
Parker Smith
Jake’s face was reddening, his knuckles white from his grip on his weapon.
“Baby?”
My phone buzzed. I pulled it out of my pocket to see a news update. It was related to the Conclave.
I clicked the link, opening a live stream of a Conclave conference. A wealthy American had just announced his move to Amsterdam to build a brand-new state-of-the-art church in the city. The conference was taking place right now as this news broke. This was a seriously big deal. Chaos was going to follow.
I showed Jake the phone.
“That’s him!” he cried. “It’s … wait. No. This isn’t right.”
The guy addressing the crowd was called Elijah Hart.
“What the fuck, Dean? That’s Parker! That is Parker!”
The crowd was cheering the man as he went off about how Amsterdam would be the first city
