Chapter 59: Fewer answers, more questions

"Uncle! I missed you! Seriously, stop brushing me off when I invite you! I know you don't drink, but you can still come play!"

"What's the point?" Kiyan teased. "I always beat you. Don't you ever get tired of losing?"

"One day, I'll wipe the floor with you. And that day, you'll cry! Making a fool of me in front of a girl this hot... aren't you ashamed?" he shot, glancing at Blanche. "You introducing me or what?"

"Blanche, Benjy. Benjy, Blanche," Kiyan sighed.

"You suck," the young man sulked.

He stepped closer to her.

"I'm that guy's son," he said, pointing at a dubious-looking Sebastian, "and his beloved nephew," he added, gesturing toward Kiyan, who was already massaging his temples.

Argy leaned in to kiss her on both cheeks. Blanche froze. She shot Kiyan a murderous look. A warning wouldn't have killed him, would it?

"Nice to meet you," she finally managed.

The elevator suddenly opened behind them.

"Your car is ready, sir," announced a voice she recognized immediately, laced with a hint of amusement.

Lounging at the back, Kysten—the elf-vampire—shot her a delighted smile, then another... far more mischievous.

"Well, well..." he murmured, stepping forward. "Isn't this my charming date?"

"As if we needed him," Kiyan muttered.

"Your date?!" Argy repeated. "This Blanche?! You didn't tell me she was this beautiful! That's low, bro!"

"Of course I didn't tell you," Kysten grumbled. "You'd have done everything to steal her from me, you discount Don Juan."

Blanche stared at them, stunned. Were they serious? Sebastian, clearly reading her face, took pity—or realized she was reaching her limit.

"Lieutenant, your duties?" he said, glancing at his watch.

"Buzzkill," Argy grumbled, while Kysten gave his King a sharp military salute. The latter merely shook his head, weary.

"Mind if I grab your number from Kyst's phone?" Argy tossed at Blanche.

She wasn't fooled. He probably already had it.

"Not at all," she replied with a smile. "I have a feeling we're going to be friends."

"Exactly what I was thinking!" he exclaimed with a wink before stepping into the elevator, Kysten stifling a laugh behind a fake cough.

"Princess," the latter greeted just before the doors closed.

"By Babylon..." Blanche murmured.

"Couldn't have said it better," confirmed the King of the djinns—or rather, the player who wasn't one—as she turned back toward the two remaining men.

Under their suddenly intense gazes, and in the silence that followed, she felt tiny. A mouse facing two far-too-elegant eagles. A shiver ran through her: they were looking at her like prey, ready to be devoured.

"Have a good day, Your Majesties," rang a clear voice—Ash.

They immediately turned their heads toward the control station. She caught a glimpse of a tiny greenish glimmer near the only visible keyboard.

Then she saw him.

She froze in front of the pixie. Impossible to look away.

He was... adorable. A full-on cuteness assault.

No taller than two centimeters, his movements, quick as a dragonfly's, made his face hard to focus on. His wings vibrated almost imperceptibly.

The three men were talking, but she heard nothing. Something was off. A detail eluded her, nagged at her, obsessed her.

"Mhmmm..." she answered vaguely, having no idea what she was agreeing to.

The pixie wore an emerald green outfit, made of silk, membranes, and some substance invisible to the naked eye. Tiny shoes so fine they looked fused to his skin.

His long brown hair hid most of his face; she could barely make out his eyes. And yet... something about him reminded her of someone.

Mini headset, microscopic mic. And somehow, despite her heightened hearing, he was the only one she could clearly hear.

Kiyan placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Blanche? Are you listening to us?"

She studied her professor for a moment—his aura of sand, cream, and gold... then, suddenly, it clicked. The pixie's aura. The circle. Everything fit.

"Oh..." she murmured. "Sorry. You were saying?"

Kiyan sighed.

"I asked Sebastian if he could access traffic surveillance cameras."

"When?"

She snapped her fingers before anyone could answer.

"Yesterday afternoon. At the pool."

Sebastian shot Kiyan a strange look.

Damn. When had he taken off his glasses?

She turned her attention back to the screen. The road. Just after classes.

A detail suddenly struck her.

That night, Kiyan hadn't been able to drive them back because of an unexpected meeting.

"He's just grumpy," Eva had said. "He has a meeting, so he can't drive us back or hang out with us."

Except... usually, even when he was busy, he ALWAYS found someone to take them home.

Elsa. A colleague.

Why not that night?

Nicky—Asher—started the video. The car was speeding straight toward... her. An old black car, long, low, beautiful.

She flinched at the impact replay.

Evanescence screaming, crying, rushing toward her, phone in hand. The car reversing... then driving off. A hit-and-run. Cowardly. The screen showed the license plate for just a second before glitching out.

They waited for the image to return. Nothing.

Asher confirmed, uneasy:

"That's strange... The footage is gone."

"What do you mean 'gone'?" Sebastian repeated, arms crossed.

That word triggered a violent déjà vu.

Nicky had said Aaron could make anything appear or disappear.

She looked at Kiyan. Then at the pixie, who seemed to have reached the same conclusion.

Why erase the footage?

Protect someone? Stop Sebastian from digging further?

Or... recognize the plate?

"Sorry, Your Majesty," Asher said. "The playback self-destructed the evidence. Someone doesn't want us to identify the driver."

"Clearly," Sebastian growled. "Kiyan, a word. In private. Ash, show Blanche the greenhouse."

The words cracked like a whip. Sharp.

"Of course, Your Majesty," the pixie replied, setting down his headset. "Miss, if you would follow me..."

He rose to the level of her face and headed toward the nearest gray double door, with an almost irritating confidence for something so small. The other door, nearly invisible, blended into the black wall, as if it had decided not to participate in the scene—or to save its mysteries for later, which, given the place, didn't promise anything particularly reassuring.

Blanche cast a long look at Kiyan. Not subtle, not discreet—a look loaded with questions, hypotheses, and a very clear hint of suspicion. With a simple movement of his eyes, he ordered her to follow Asher, because of course, even without speaking, he had to be perfectly clear.

She sighed and obeyed. Because arguing would have been pointless—and also because he was right, which never made things better. Impossible to fool a vampire—and even less Kiyan—by leaving the door slightly open to listen in, even with the best bad faith in the world.

So, once she crossed the threshold, she let the door close behind her with a sharp click, the kind of final sound that said very clearly: too late for regrets, and even less for subtle attempts.