Still hiding in the dark, Hadley dared another question. “What are you saying?”
“I don’t care who you were in your previous incarnations. I care who you are now.”
“What if that changes again?” Her fingers slipped lower. “What if I change again?”
“Change is inevitable, sweetheart, and all any of us can do is hope that the skin we choose to shed is less than the new one we have decided to wear.”
Dropping her hands to her sides, Hadley stared at the ceiling like it might provide her with guidance.
“I need Linus to keep his word.” She pushed herself upright. “I need him to act when others hesitate.”
“I understand.” His mother angled her head toward Linus. “Apologies, Mr. Lawson.”
“Accepted,” he said with ease. “Can we see her now?”
“I’ll come down.” Hadley swung her legs over the edge of the futon. “There’s no room for a party up here.”
Midas wished he took more comfort from her words, which sounded almost right, but her tone was flat and her eyes empty.
“I’ll do the honors.” He scooped her up and carried her toward the stairs. “I don’t mind.”
Hadley leaned her head against his chest, placed her hand over his heart, and shuddered just once.
Midas hit the bottom, his mother behind him, but he struggled to close the distance to Linus and Grier.
“You didn’t have to drive all the way here.” Hadley struggled weakly until he set her on her feet. “I’m—”
“Don’t say you’re fine,” Grier warned. “You’re not. I’m not. No one in this room is okay right now.”
“What do you want me to say?” Hadley folded her arms across her stomach. “He was my brother.”
“And he loved you more than anything in the world.”
“And Addie…” Hadley hunched over like she might be sick. “She’s…gone. I never told her…”
Unable to witness more of Hadley’s pain, Grier rushed her, and Midas gritted his teeth to keep from snapping at her. Grier yanked Hadley against her and squeezed until sobs burst from them both.
Slowly, so as not to provoke Midas, Linus joined them, stroking the curved line of Grier’s spine.
The elevator chimed, and it carried through the apartment’s open door.
Remy ran across the hall and skidded to a stop before colliding with Grier, Linus, and Hadley.
“There were no bodies,” she shouted, fist pumping the sky. “No bodies.”
Grier closed her eyes as if it might erase the past few hours if she screwed them shut tight enough, but Hadley broke from the huddle to clasp Remy by her wrists in a bruising grip.
“What are you talking about?” Her voice wavered. “How do you know?”
“Do you think I wasn’t here with you because I didn’t want to be?” She made a dismissive noise. “Unlike these losers, who came to you empty-handed, I brought news.”
Hope draining from her expression, Hadley shook her head. “The heat…”
“Me, myself, and five other Is spent the day sifting through the debris after the cleaners left.” She held up her blistered hands, which were angry from the intense heat she had shoved them into over and over while she panned for clues. “There are no bone fragments. No teeth. No nothing.”
“The average house fire burns at one to two thousand degrees,” Bishop said from the hallway. “Your average practitioner would be lucky to pack that much heat, and it’s doubtful they could do it without help from a coven or an artifact.” He paused to let that sink in. “There were remains at the bar. There were none at Michelle’s.”
A tremble started in Hadley’s calves and climbed up her body until she vibrated with the stirrings of dangerous hope.
“For comparison,” Bishop continued without entering, “a crematorium burns bodies at fourteen to eighteen hundred degrees. There are always bits left. Always. Splintered bone, melted dental amalgam, jewelry, phones, other electronics people keep on their person at all times.”
“You’re saying none of those things were found,” Hadley said slowly, staring at the damage to Remy’s hands. “Does that mean…?” She swallowed hard. “Why was no one there?”
What Hadley was saying finally struck Midas through his protective haze, and he should have gotten it sooner. The restaurant had staff. Cooks, waitstaff, a hostess, among others. Yet no remains were found?
“We don’t know that yet, kid.”
Appearing to digest that, she stared toward the door. “Why are you still in the hallway?”
“Your man threatened to eat my face earlier, so I figured better safe than dinner.”
She cranked her head toward him. “Midas?”
“Last week, he blew you up,” he reasoned. “Last night, he tranquilized you.”
“You’re lucky Midas didn’t rip out your throat,” his mother said from behind him. “I would have.”
“Midas.” Hadley gentled her voice. “You can’t murder everyone who hurts me.”
Eyebrows climbing, he kept his mouth shut because she was wrong, but he didn’t want to tell her so.
Releasing Remy, she walked into his arms and mashed her face into his chest. “I can hear you thinking murder thoughts.”
“I’ll try to think quieter.”
A laugh huffed into his shirt, and her fingers tightened around him. “What does this mean?”
The weight of what she asked pressed down on him until he ought to have sunk through their floor into the lobby.
“I don’t want you to get your hopes up and then get hurt all over again.” He buried his face in her hair. “But I don’t want you to lose all hope either.”
“That’s a fine line to walk.” She tipped her head back, her chin on his chest. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“We’re here to help.” Linus eased forward. “We’ll do whatever we can to locate those responsible.”
As protective as Hadley was of her city and her role in it, Midas expected her to pass on the offer.
“Okay.” She turned a grateful expression on Linus. “I think…” She glanced at Grier. “I would like that.”
“You’re in charge.” Linus returned his hands to his pockets. “What do you want us to do?”
Pulling away from Midas, Hadley wrapped herself in the mantle of
