Run: 2026-05-22-01KS86X5251XWSGZWJKM0037SJ

The top brass deadbolt clacked. Rory twisted the middle lock, then the bottom one. She gripped the handle and pulled the heavy wooden door inward, bracing against the draught from the stairwell. Lucien stood on the frayed welcome mat. Rain darkened the shoulders of his tailored charcoal suit, pooling in the intricate weave of the fabric. He leaned his weight on the ivory handle of his cane, his posture immaculate despite the bleak weather. His amber eye caught the dim hallway light, glowing like a polished coin. The black one remained a void, absorbing the shadows of the corridor. "You are difficult to track, Aurora." "Rory. And I am not hiding." She kept her grip tight against the wood. "What do you want, Lucien?" "To come inside. The curry house downstairs is giving me a headache, and the rain is ruining my shoes." She stepped back and opened the door wider. He crossed the threshold. The floorboards groaned under his weight. Ptolemy trotted out from beneath a stack of Evelyn Waugh novels and rubbed his orange flank against his wet trousers. "Even the cat likes you." "Animals possess excellent judgment." Lucien shook the water from his slicked-back platinum hair. Droplets hit the floorboards. He surveyed the cramped living room. Every available surface held books, loose scrolls, and chaotic research notes. A teetering stack of encyclopaedias rested on the edge of the rug. "Your friend has a peculiar definition of interior design." "Eva is away. I am just feeding Ptolemy." Rory closed the door and threw the three deadbolts back into place. The metallic thuds echoed in the small space. "You have two minutes before I kick you out." "Generous as always." He limped toward the small kitchenette, the concealed blade in his cane clicking against the peeling linoleum. He stopped at the counter and picked up a crumbling parchment, careful not to knock over a jar of loose pens. "Put that down." He rolled the parchment between his gloved fingers. "Sumerian warding spells. Eva is branching out." "Put it down, Lucien." He placed the scroll next to the toaster. He turned to face her, resting both hands on the ivory knob of his cane. The silence in the flat stretched, filled only by the hum of the refrigerator and the distant thump of the curry house bass below. Rory walked to the sink and filled the kettle. She set it on the base and pressed the switch. The blue light flickered on. "You left without a word." "I had urgent business in Marseille." "For three months." "Avarosian politics require a delicate touch." She crossed her arms. The sleeve of her jumper rode up, exposing the small crescent scar on her left wrist. His gaze dropped to the pale mark, lingering for a fraction of a second before rising to her bright blue eyes. "You could have sent a text." "My phone was confiscated by a rather disgruntled duke." "You are a fixer. Fix things." She leaned against the counter, putting distance between them. "You do not just vanish when things get complicated." "Things were not complicated, Rory. They were dangerous." "I can handle danger." "You fled Cardiff to escape a man who threw a glass at your head. You do not need my brand of danger added to your plate." The kettle clicked off. Steam curled into the cool air of the flat, fogging the bottom edge of the window. Rory grabbed two mugs from the drying rack and dropped a tea bag into each. Her hands shook, rattling the ceramic against the Formica counter. She forced her fingers to steady, pressing her palms flat against the surface. "I did not ask for your protection." "You never do." He stepped closer. The scent of petrichor and expensive sandalwood cologne cut through the smell of old paper and damp wool. He reached out and covered her shaking hand with his gloved one. The leather was cold from the rain, yet his grip held steady. She pulled her hand back and picked up the kettle. She poured the boiling water over the tea bags. Dark liquid bloomed in the mugs. "Why are you here, Lucien?" He withdrew his hand and adjusted his grip on his cane. The amber eye darkened. "Evan is back in London." The spoon clattered against the side of the mug. Rory stared at the swirling tea leaves. The noise from the street outside faded into a dull roar in her ears. "How do you know?" "He attempted to pawn a silver watch at a fence in Camden. The fence owes me a favour." "He has no reason to come back." "He has every reason. His new girlfriend left him, and his bank accounts are frozen. He is desperate, and he knows you are in the city." She gripped the edge of the counter. The Formica dug into her palms, grounding her in the physical space of the kitchen. "I can handle him." "He is staying at a hostel in King's Cross. He has been asking around the Golden Empress." "Yu-Fei would not tell him anything." "Evan is not asking with manners. He broke the window of the delivery van yesterday." Rory closed her eyes. The image of the shattered glass flashed behind her eyelids, sharp and jagged. She opened them and looked at the Frenchman. His jaw was set, the muscles ticking beneath his pale skin. "So you came to play the knight in shining armour." "I came to offer you a solution." "Which involves you." "Which involves me." He tapped the cane against the floor. "You stay here. I will deal with Evan." "By dealing with him, you mean killing him." "I mean ending the issue for good." "I am not letting you murder my ex-boyfriend, Lucien. I am a pre-law student. Or I was." "You are a delivery girl who lives above a pub and house-sits for a witch. The law does not apply to your current postcode." "It applies to me." She picked up her mug and took a sip. The tea scalded her tongue. She swallowed the burn. "I will talk to him." "He will not listen." "He will listen to the police." "The police will not protect you from a man who knows the supernatural underworld." "He does not know about the underworld." "He knows about me." Lucien stepped into her personal space. The heat radiating from his body chased away the chill of the damp flat. "And he knows I left you." She looked up at him. The heterochromatic eyes held a storm of unspoken regrets. His gaze dropped to her mouth, then back to her eyes. His thumb brushed the edge of her jaw. The touch lacked pressure, a stark contrast to the rigid posture of his shoulders. "I left you to keep you safe." "You left me because you are a coward." His hand stilled. The muscle in his jaw jumped. He dropped his hand and took a step back, creating a chasm of cold air between them. "Drink your tea, Rory. We leave in ten minutes." "I am not going anywhere with you." "You are." He turned toward the door, his wet shoes squeaking on the linoleum. "Ptolemy needs feeding, and Evan needs a lesson in manners. I suggest you put on a coat." "Lucien." He paused with his hand on the brass doorknob. He did not look back. "If you hurt him, I will never speak to you again." "If I do not hurt him, he will hurt you." He twisted the knob. The top lock clicked open. "Ten minutes."