Chapter 4

Chapter

Four

GAGE

G age leaned against the bar, wiping down the already spotless counter as he watched Savannah through narrowed eyes. The interaction she’d had with that tall, imposing man—Thornheart, if he’d caught the name right—left a sour taste in his mouth. The tension between them had been palpable, and while Savannah had seemed to handle herself just fine, there was something about the way she’d stood, her body rigid with fury and power, which unnerved him.

He wasn’t sure what Savannah’s story was, but it was clear she was no ordinary waitress. She moved like a predator—graceful, dangerous, and always on alert. And for reasons he didn’t really understand, he found her wildly attractive. She called to him on a level he hadn’t even known he possessed; much less thought he could experience.

That interaction with Thornheart wasn’t just a chance meeting. They had history, and it wasn’t the good kind.

Gage set the rag down and crossed his arms, his mind churning. He couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to Savannah than met the eye, and it wasn’t just the supernatural aura she gave off, though that was part of it. He could feel the power radiating from her—dark and wild, like the pull of a storm brewing on the horizon. It attracted him in a way that was both thrilling and dangerous—like a moth to a flame.

She had secrets. And so did he.

As the night wore on, Gage kept one eye on the lounge’s patrons, scanning for any signs of trouble, and the other on Savannah. She was good at her job, moving through the crowd with a practiced ease, but there was a tension in her movements, a subtle edge that never left her. She wasn’t just working—she was hunting. Just like him.

He’d learned long ago to trust his instincts, and right now, they were screaming at him that something was off about The Obsidian Lounge. The energy in the air wasn’t just from the patrons; it was darker, more potent, like a veil had been lifted and the supernatural undercurrents that usually hid in plain sight were bubbling to the surface. His demon side could sense it, stirring restlessly inside him, whispering of danger.

Gage glanced over at the entrance to the private rooms in the back, where Madame Vesper had disappeared with her entourage earlier. He hadn’t seen her come out since, and his gut told him that whatever was happening in those rooms wasn’t above board.

Once he was sure the crowd was beginning to thin and the night was coming to a close, he made up his mind. He needed to know what was going on here, and he wasn’t going to wait around for someone else to tell him. This place had secrets, and he intended to find them.

T he last patron had finally left, and Gage locked the door behind them, casting one final glance over the lounge. The shadows seemed to cling to the walls, darker now since the lights had dimmed, and the silence felt oppressive, heavy with the weight of something unseen.

He moved quietly toward the back, toward the private rooms that had gnawed at his curiosity all night. His steps echoed faintly in the empty lounge as he approached the door, his senses on high alert. The strange energy that had permeated the lounge earlier was stronger here, thick and palpable, almost suffocating.

Gage’s hand hovered over the door handle for a moment before he pushed it open. The room beyond was dimly lit, the air heavy with the scent of incense and something darker, more metallic. His gaze swept the space, taking in the plush velvet couches, the dark wood paneling, the low lighting casting everything in a shadowy haze. At first glance, it looked like just another high-end lounge space, but something felt off.

And then he saw it.

In the far corner, almost hidden from view, was a door—small, unassuming, and almost invisible against the dark wood walls. It didn’t belong here. Gage’s heart rate spiked as he moved toward it, the strange energy growing stronger with every step. His hand trembled slightly as he grasped the handle, pushing the door open.

The air beyond the door was cold, unnaturally so, and Gage’s breath misted in front of him as he stepped into the hidden chamber. His eyes adjusted to the dim light, and his stomach dropped as he took in the scene before him.

Arcane symbols were carved into the stone walls, their shapes dark and twisted, glowing faintly with a sickly green light. The remnants of dark rituals littered the floor—candles burned down to stubs, bones arranged in patterns, blood dried into the grooves of the stone. The air was thick with the scent of death and decay, and the power that pulsed from the symbols was like nothing he’d ever felt before.

Gage’s heart pounded in his chest as he took a step forward, his eyes scanning the symbols, trying to make sense of them. He wasn’t an expert on magic, but even he could recognize that this was serious. This wasn’t just some minor ritual—this was dark, ancient magic. The kind of magic that required blood sacrifices and came with a steep price.

He knelt down, his fingers brushing over one of the symbols, a shiver running down his spine as the cold energy surged through him. His demon side stirred, restless, as if it recognized the power in the symbols and wanted to feed off it.

But Gage held it back, forcing himself to stay in control. He had to figure out what this meant. What was the connection between Edward Falwell, Madame Vesper, and the dark rituals happening beneath the surface of The Obsidian Lounge?

Before he could process any of this, the sound of footsteps echoed behind him. Gage spun around, his muscles tensing as he prepared for a fight, but when he saw who it was, his heart skipped a beat.

Savannah.

She stood in the doorway, her eyes wide with shock as she took in the scene before her. For a moment, they just stared at each other, the tension between them crackling like a live wire.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Gage demanded, his voice low, barely masking his surprise.

Savannah’s gaze flickered from him to the symbols on the walls and then back to him. “I could ask you the same thing.”

Gage’s jaw tightened. “I work here. What’s your excuse?”

“Last time I checked, so did I.” Savannah held his eyes, her own narrowing slightly as if she were weighing her options. Then, she seemed to make up her mind and sighed. “I’m working undercover.”

Gage blinked. “Undercover? For who?”

Savannah crossed her arms, her gaze steady. “Not the cops, although there are plenty of supernatural cops. I’ve been investigating Falwell and Vesper for weeks now. There have been… disappearances. People are going missing, and I’m convinced it has something to do with whatever the hell is going on here.”

Gage took a step toward her, his mind racing. “And you think Falwell and Vesper are behind it?”

Savannah nodded; her expression grim. “I don’t have proof yet, but this—” she gestured to the room around them, the dark symbols glowing ominously on the walls, “—this confirms my suspicions. Something dark is happening here, and it’s bigger than we realized.”

“‘We?’” he asked.

“My sisters and me. I’m the baby of the family, which is more annoying than you can possibly imagine.”

Gage’s mind spun as he processed her words. Sisters? How had he not realized that Savannah was one of the Duvalls ? The sisters had a widespread reputation as demon-hunters. They were also known to take on other supernaturals if needed. He’d known something was off, but this? If the Duvall sisters were involved… “What do you and your sisters think?”

“Uh, I haven’t exactly shared my suspicions with them.”

This was far worse than he’d imagined. He glanced back at the symbols, the remnants of dark rituals, and felt the weight of the situation settle heavily on his shoulders.

Before he could say anything else, a low, guttural growl echoed through the room, followed by the sound of scraping stone.

Gage and Savannah both spun toward the source of the noise, their muscles tensing, Savannah reaching for the jeweled dagger she kept tucked into her waistband. From the far corner of the room, a section of the wall slid open, revealing a hidden tunnel. And from the shadows emerged a figure.

A short, hunched figure with beady eyes and sharp, jagged teeth.

“Grungle?” Savannah blurted, her voice a mix of surprise and confusion.

The creature—Grungle, apparently—gave a toothy grin, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Looking for you, little water fae. Important news from the underground.”

Savannah groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Grungle, let me rephrase, what do you want?”

The creature, who Gage now recognized as the Sewer King, shuffled forward, his beady eyes darting between them. “Disturbances in the city’s waterways. Dark magic, bad things stirring. Figured you’d want to know.”

Savannah sighed, glancing at Gage. “This is Grungle. He, uh… runs the sewer system beneath the city. He’s a… friend. Sort of.”

Grungle nodded enthusiastically, his sharp teeth flashing. “Best friend. Close, close. Very helpful.”

Gage raised an eyebrow, glancing between Savannah and Grungle. “This just keeps getting better and better.”

Savannah shot him a withering look before turning back to Grungle. “What kind of disturbances?”

Grungle’s grin faltered, his expression growing serious. “Bad things. Shadows moving in the water. Creatures that don’t belong. Power coming from below. Dark power.”

Gage felt the chill in the air intensify, his demon side stirring restlessly inside him. “So, this isn’t just about The Obsidian Lounge.”

Savannah’s eyes darkened. “No. It’s not.”

Grungle nodded, his beady eyes wide with urgency. “Big trouble brewing. Need to stop it before it spreads. Sewer system’s just the beginning.”

Gage exhaled slowly, his mind racing. This was bigger than he’d thought. If Grungle was to be believed, far bigger. He glanced at Savannah, and for the first time, he considered telling her the truth. She deserved to know what they were up against. And if they were going to stop whatever dark force was rising, they would need every bit of strength they could muster.

Even his.

But as he opened his mouth to speak, the shadows in the room seemed to grow darker, and the weight of the danger pressing down on them was palpable.

Whatever was coming, it was coming fast. And there was no time to waste.

Gage swallowed, his voice low and tense. “We’re going to need more than just hunches and guesses to figure this out.”

Savannah nodded, her gaze fierce and determined. Then, without a word, she turned and walked out into the night. Before he could follow, she was gone.