Chapter 27

Matt

Ian's words fall like stones. "That's pretty conclusive," I say through a tight throat. "I mean… it's not a stretch to assume that the guy who summoned demons to abuse them was also willing to enslave them for profit and pass that mentality down through his family."

Dylan makes a humming noise, and I know him well enough to know what he's thinking. "We need more."

Yep.

"He's right." I clench and unclench my fists, hating what I'm about to say. "If we want to make use of Collective resources to break this up, we need concrete evidence that they've been summoning demons and exposing humans to them for centuries." I cringe. "And even then, I think it'd need to be a classified operation. I want to believe nobody else would think this is a good idea, but…" I've lost my faith in the Collective, my fellow hunters, and humanity.

The awkward silence that follows eats at me. I don't have time for this. Dylan called us back in before Marc could explain what he meant when he said I'd evolved. Evolved . What the fuck? Like some kind of science experiment? I need to question him about this some more, because it sounds to me like he's saying I'm not a demon but I have superpowers, and I'm not sure where that fits on the scale of possibilities I'm okay with.

Plus… it all still could be a coma dream. There's no way to know.

"I will defer to you in this," Raum says finally. "We have the location and the names of those we believe are involved. My preference would be to go there immediately and put an end to this barbarity and free those enslaved. However, I understand the need to work in partnership within the confines of the truce."

Marc's face is stone, but his chest heaves with a deep breath. "Dylan, you said the company has more than one branch?"

Dyl nods. "Columbus was the first one—well, the first officially registered one. The second is in Cincinnati. The third and fourth are in Kentucky and Michigan." He hesitates. "It's worth noting that this company hasn't been around as long as hundreds of years. My guess is that they move around and change company names every few decades to stay under the Collective's radar, as well as running an unofficial side business." He grimaces. "If technology hadn't gotten to the point that it has, and if they hadn't decided to take their business online, there's a chance we never would have found them."

"So they could have other branches in other states under different company names," Ian says bitterly. "And there's no way of knowing exactly where all those demons are being held."

"Not without getting into their files—and hoping the information is all there, and that I can get to it without anyone noticing."

"But their tech person sent us this," I point out. "Maybe… maybe they'd be willing to be our mole."

"Can we trust them?" Dylan counters. "This could still be a trap. They know I've been looking into the company, but there's no way for them to know that we just learned about the kidnapped demons today. They might think we've known all along. They might think we don't know at all. What if they're trying to lure us to go there, only to be met by their thousands of demons being compelled to destroy us?"

"Don't worry about that," Marc says darkly.

"Not even thousands of lesser demons could stand against a higher demon of Marc's stature," Raum adds. "I would assist if he requested, and I have a team I could call upon also. But we would not be required."

Annnnnd I'm back to thinking Ian is completely insane for getting into bed with a being that powerful.

"Okay, but that still leaves us in the position of not knowing where all the kidnapped demons are. We could go there, Marc could wreak destruction, and then when I get into their system, what happens if there isn't a digitalized list?"

"So Marc keeps a few of them alive until we know." I shrug.

"Which ones? What if the one we need dies in the melee?"

I know he's trying to be reasonable and problem-solve this logically, but right this second, I don't want to be talking about this. I want to be grilling Marc on whether I'm radioactive or something and Dylan's going to leave me anyway.

"I think we need to talk to whoever sent that email," Ian says slowly. "It's a risk, and we don't know if we can trust them, but six years ago we didn't know if we could trust Marc either. Sometimes risks pay off."

"And you're in a better position this time," Marc adds smoothly. "Since I'm here."

Dylan pulls a face, but I can tell he agrees. "I'll send a message via the chat and see where that takes us."

We spend the next few minutes arguing about what that message should be before finally deciding on:

Interesting genealogy. Is it yours? Family heritage can be tricky. Ever met Matt Coates?

Dylan argued strongly against bringing my name into it, but the rest of us agree that we need to show we've made the connection.

Someone knocks loudly on the front door. "I think our food's here."

"What?" Ian asks. "How'd—" His phone rings just as I spot Marc subtly shaking his head at me. I guess that knock wasn't as loud as I thought. "Hello? Oh yeah—sorry. Doorbell's broken and we're at the back of the house. I'm coming." Ian ends the call. "You were right, Matty. Food's here."

Raum follows him out into the hallway, apparently curious to meet a food delivery person, and I glance toward my boyfriend. "Coming, Dyl?"

"In a minute. I just want to double-check these company ownership documents—it won't take long; we already have back doors set up into those agencies."

That would frighten me more if I didn't know how many human governments had been influenced by higher demons in the past. Better for us to have a back door and be able to get what we need to stop them faster.

"Okay. If you're not out by the time we sit down to eat, I'll come back," I warn, but he's already tapping keys.

This is my chance. I grab Marc's arm and drag him from the study across the hall into the downstairs bathroom. As bathrooms go, it's a nice one, but it's not huge, and we're a little cramped. That doesn't matter, though—I just need two minutes of privacy to get some answers.

"What do you mean, evolved?" I hiss.

He looks around with distaste. "This really isn't the place for conversation."

"So help me god , Marc, tell me what you meant before Ian starts to wonder where we are. What's happening to me?"

"I'm not entirely certain," he admits with a little shrug, and my heart drops to my feet. "I'd need to look into the theory some more. But, since you're so impatient, my best hypothesis is that when I healed you, it showed your body and brain what it would need to do to… continue healing you. To make you… better."

I squeeze my eyes shut. "To evolve me, in other words." When I look at him again, his expression holds… concern?

"Essentially. You're reporting better senses—sharper hearing, eyesight, sense of smell. Increased strength." He raises a brow. "Telepathy?"

My jaw drops. "What? No!" Fuck… "How would I even know?"

"If the ability was developing, you'd be picking up stray thoughts of others—not hunters, so much, since you all have decent mental shields, but people on the street. It would be like hearing snatches of conversation even when they hadn't spoken."

I shake my head in relief. "No, nothing like that. I can hear better, but… like, last week, that dream I had where the little kid vomited? I ran into Dylan's neighbor from two floors up the other day, and she mentioned that her kid had been sick with some stomach bug. So I think that could have been me hearing it?"

"Entirely likely." Marc nods. "In the middle of the night, things are quieter and sounds carry more, plus your mind was in a relaxed state, so it may well have been that you heard the child being sick… and also the couple who were fighting. They were still fighting the whole weekend Ian and I were there. I heard them multiple times."

I sink down onto the toilet and bury my face in my hands. "How do you cope? How do I block out the noises and stuff? And…" I look up at him. "Is it going to get worse?"

"You'll learn to filter, the same way you did before. Your brain will choose what sounds to focus on and which ones to tune out. As to the rest of your question… I need to do more research, I'm afraid. No demon has ever healed a human before and let them live."

I don't know what's scarier, the sentence or what it means for me. I'm not meant to be a pioneer. "So I'm… enhanced. I'm still human?"

He rolls his eyes. "You're definitely still human."

"But I could still be in a coma."

"You are not … I can see I won't be able to convince you of this, so if you choose to believe you're in a coma, that's your prerogative. However, I can assure you that you are not a demon and not a… superhero." Disgust drips from the last word. Ian told me that when he made Marc watch the Avengers movies, Marc sided with Thanos. "I will speak to some friends who specialize in the study of humans and see if they have any insights, but to my perception, you are still wholly human."

I can hear Ian calling for us, which means time is severely limited. "Is it safe to talk to Dylan about this?" Things I never thought I'd do: Ask Marc for relationship advice.

He looks faintly surprised. "You haven't already? I thought that was the reason for the tension between you."

" No , I didn't want him leaving me because I'm a demon!"

"Not a demon," he repeats, just as Ian pounds on the bathroom door.

"Is someone in there? Seriously, where'd you guys go?"

Marc dismisses me with a wave. "You should speak to Dylan—and to Ian. They'll notice sooner or later." Then he opens the door, partly blocking me from sight, and catches Ian's fist raised to pound again. "Human, how often must I tell you that a knock should be genteel?"

Ian makes his "are you shitting me?" face. "It's a knock, Marc. Not a character from a period movie. Dinner's ready. Do you know where—" I move forward, and his eyes widen. "Dude. What the fuck? Why are you both in the bathroom at the same time?"

If it were anyone else, they'd be suspicious or jealous, but Ian knows I'd never do him dirty like that. "Marc's thinking of redecorating and wanted my opinion on tiles." I stroll past them both into the hallway, ignoring Marc's appalled horror and Ian's grin. "Let me get Dylan, and we can eat."