Run: 2026-11-11-01M753WGJY256D6GRKVA9A5ZEN

The third deadbolt clicked and the chain shuddered against the wood. Rory kept her palm on the lock bar and looked through the peephole at the man on the landing. Platinum hair lay plastered to his forehead. Damp charcoal wool clung to his shoulders. One eye caught the hall bulb amber. The other eye took light and gave back black. Water dripped from the hem of his suit and pooled round the ivory tip of his cane. She drew the chain, pulled each bolt, and opened the door a hand's breadth. Ptolemy jammed a tabby flank against her calf and fixed his gaze on the visitor. Rory wedged her foot into the gap and held the door edge with her left hand. The small crescent scar on her wrist showed white against the sleeve. "You picked a lock with a name I gave you in March." "Eva mentioned Brick Lane after two glasses at Silas' bar." "Eva did not mention a date or an hour." "She mentioned a cat with a king's name." Lucien lifted the cane clear of the mat and shifted his weight on the landing. Rain hissed on the curry house sign below and the smell of cumin and fried onions pushed up the stairwell. Ptolemy slipped past Rory's foot, circled Lucien's shoe, and butted his head against the damp trouser leg. Rory grabbed the cat by the scruff and hauled him behind her ankle. "Get off my mat, Lucien." "Door, Rory." "No." "Man in the curry house doorway tracked me from the Tube." Rory looked past Lucien's shoulder. A man stood under the awning with a phone in his hand and his face turned up toward the landing. Lucien glanced down the stairs and his knuckles whitened round the ivory handle of the cane. Rory seized his lapel, dragged him over the threshold, and slammed the door in the cat's startled face. She threw the chain home and pulled the three bolts in sequence. Ptolemy yowled and shot between the book stacks. "Your cat will draw blood from both of us." "You brought trouble to Eva's door." Inside the flat, books leaned in towers from floor to shelf and scrolls lay across the table in a crooked line. Research notes curled at the edges and a teacup sat abandoned on a geology text. Lucien's coat dripped onto the rug and his shoes left dark prints on the boards. Rory tossed him a towel from the bathroom rail and set about pulling books off the armchair with both arms. He dabbed at his hair and the platinum strands fell across his forehead. Lucien stepped into the narrow path between two shelves and blocked the route to the kitchen. Rory squeezed past him with an armload of paperbacks. Her shoulder bumped his chest and she turned her face up to him in the tight space. Blue eyes met amber and black at a distance of inches. He did not move. "Move." "You love a narrow hallway." Lucien stepped sideways and his cane scratched the floorboard. Rory dumped the books on the sofa and pointed at the bathroom. He draped his wet jacket over the chair back and followed her into the kitchen with the towel round his neck. The kettle clicked off as she filled two mugs. Steam curled up and caught the light from the one bare bulb. Her left hand shook round the handle and tea sloshed onto the saucer. Lucien lowered his gaze to the crescent scar and she tugged the jumper sleeve down over it. "Tea was Eva's rule for guests." "I am no guest tonight." "Good. Eva will want witnesses." "I should have told you the job came from Avaros." "You should have told me before you took my notes." "I took nothing." "You took the last page and left no word for three months." Lucien set his mug down on the counter with care and the ceramic rang against the stone. Rory turned the tap full blast and watched water hammer the sink. The scar shone white under the stream and her fingers reddened in the cold. He reached past her to turn the tap off and his sleeve brushed her wrist. She snatched her hand back and dried it on the jumper. "That page named a door. I closed it." "You used my name to open it." Ptolemy scratched at the kitchen door and whined for his bowl. Rory crouched in the corner beside a stack of Eva's notes and filled the bowl with dry food. Lucien crouched at her side to move a pile of books out of the cat's path. Their knees bumped and his thigh pressed against hers on the narrow floor. He placed the bowl down and their hands brushed over the rim. Rory pulled her hand away and Ptolemy dived in with his ears flat. Lucien stood and ducked his head under a shelf of scrolls. Rory stood with him and the top of her head hit his chin. "You feed him before yourself." "He pays rent in pest control." Lucien crossed to the window and lifted the blind with his thumb. Rain streaked the glass and a streetlamp threw orange light through the drops. The man from the curry house doorway stood across the road with his collar up and his phone dark in his hand. Lucien reached for the blind cord. Rory caught his wrist and the pulse hammered under her fingers. His black eye turned toward her and his mouth formed a thin line. She let go and killed the lamp. Darkness dropped over the flat and left the book spines in silhouette. Street glow outlined Lucien's profile at the glass. Rory reached for the blind and his shoulder shifted against hers. "Lamp. Now." "Eva's lamp stays on." "Then Eva's flat gets a visitor." "Your hand is on my wrist." "Your hand is on Eva's blind." Rory clicked the lamp back on and the bulb stung her eyes. Her phone buzzed on top of the scrolls and Eva's name lit the screen. She answered on speaker and held the phone away from her ear. Glasses clinked behind Eva's voice and music thumped from Silas' bar. "Ptolemy ate. I have a guest." Lucien leaned toward the phone and his breath warmed the side of her face. Rory shifted the phone to her other hand and held it between them. "She says the scroll stays with her." "I came for shelter, not the scroll." "Then say that to her." "I need one hour, Eva. No scroll. No trouble at your door." Eva's voice crackled and Rory ended the call. She set the phone face down on the geology text and picked up her mug. Lucien picked up his and turned in a slow circle round the kitchen, taking in the notes, the scrolls, and the single chair. Rory opened the fridge for milk and a handwritten list held to the door with a magnet caught her eye. Eva had written milk, cat food, rice, and a name in black marker. Lucien stood behind her and read over her shoulder. She slammed the fridge and the bottles rattled inside. "Eva crosses names off with a black marker." "She crossed mine in March." Lucien lowered his mug to the counter and left a wet ring on the stone. His gaze landed on the scroll tube on the shelf above the sofa. He reached for it with his free hand. Rory stepped between him and the shelf and planted her palm flat on the tube. Her chest brushed his tie and she looked up at the amber eye close to her face. He lowered his hand and the cane tapped the floorboard under his shoe. "Hands off." "I want the hour, Rory. That was my request." "Requests get bolts. Rules get couch." Rory hauled a folded blanket from the bedroom doorway and shook it out over the book piles. Dust rose in the lamplight. Lucien caught the other corner and the blanket stretched between them. She smoothed the corners with her left hand and the scar flexed with each pull. Her black hair fell across her face and Lucien lifted his hand toward it. His fingers stopped a breath from her cheek. Blue eyes held his gaze and her jaw tightened. "You cut your hair." "You notice hair. You miss locked doors." Rory pulled the blanket from his grip and laid it over the armchair in one sharp tug. Books slid and Ptolemy leapt onto the wool, circled twice, and kneaded the fabric with his claws. Lucien perched on the chair edge with his cane across his knees and his damp jacket dripping onto Eva's rug. Rory set the second mug on the floor beside his shoe and kept her hand round her own.