Chapter 41: The Discovery

Rosalie shows up at my door two nights into the lockdown with a look on her face that tells me she’s about to suggest something stupid.

“I’m bored,” she announces as she pushes past me into the room. “And I hate sitting around doing nothing while Gabriel plays detective.”

“Thad told me to stay close and not go anywhere alone.”

“But you won’t be alone.” She flops onto my bed and grins up at the ceiling. “You’ll be with me.”

I close the door and lean against it. “What exactly are you suggesting?”

“Let’s do a little investigating of our own.” She props herself up on her elbows. “Think about it. Gabriel is focused on the digital trail and all that technical stuff. But what about the physical evidence? What about the people?”

“The people are confined to quarters.”

“Exactly. Which means they’re all in one place.” Her grin widens. “Easy to observe. Easy to catch doing something suspicious.”

Thad would lose his mind if he found out I went along with something like this. Playing amateur sleuth with his impulsive vampire friend is definitely not what he meant by “stay close.”

But two days of sitting in my room with nothing but my thoughts for company has left me restless and irritable. The idea of actually doing something, of taking some control over this situation, is more tempting than I want to admit.

“Where would we even start?”

Rosalie’s eyes light up. She knows she’s won.

“The servants’ quarters,” she decides as she swings her legs off the bed. “That’s where most of the staff are being held. If anyone’s acting weird or nervous, we’ll spot it.”

“Thad definitely wouldn’t want me down there. What if we get caught?”

“Then we tell whoever catches us that we were looking for the cook to make us something to eat.” She shrugs. “It’s not a crime to be hungry.”

It’s a terrible plan. Flimsy and reckless and almost certainly doomed to fail.

I grab my open the door anyway and hold it out for her.

We slip out of my room and make our way through the mansion, sticking to the back hallways and service corridors that most guests never see. I’m still getting used to the maze that is this place, but Rosalie seems perfectly at home.

“How do you know your way around so well?” I whisper. “You don’t even live here.”

“I dated one of the guards a few decades back. He showed me all the secret routes.” She winks over her shoulder. “Very useful for sneaking out after curfew.”

The servants’ quarters are located in the east wing, a section of the mansion I’ve never visited. The hallway is narrow and plain compared to the ornate rooms I’m used to, with simple wooden doors lining both sides.

Most of them are closed. A few have guards stationed outside, looking bored and irritated by their assignment. Rosalie steers us past them with a wave and a smile that somehow doesn’t invite questions.

“Where are we going?” I ask once we’re out of earshot.

“Jonathan’s room. He’s at the end of this hall.”

“The historian?”

“The same. I’ve been thinking about what Gabriel said. About the information being too specific to come from outside surveillance. Whoever is leaking has access to detailed knowledge about the mansion’s layout, its history, and its secrets.”

“And Jonathan would have all of that.”

“He’s been compiling records for the clan for over a century. If anyone knows where the bodies are buried, literally and figuratively, it’s him.”

We reach the end of the hallway and stop in front of a door that looks identical to all the others. Rosalie presses her ear against the wood and listens.

“He’s not inside,” she whispers. “But I can hear something. A machine of some kind.”

She tries the handle. It’s unlocked.

We exchange a glance. Then she pushes the door open, and we slip inside.

Jonathan’s room is cramped and cluttered. Every surface is covered with books and papers and strange artifacts. A desk sits against the far wall, dominated by a computer that looks surprisingly modern compared to the ancient texts surrounding it.

The screen is still on. A messaging application is open, and the cursor is blinking in an empty text field.

Rosalie moves to the desk and leans over the keyboard before scrolling through the conversation history. I watch her face as she reads, see her expression change from curiosity to disbelief to something that looks a lot like fear.

“What is it?”

“He’s been talking to someone outside the clan. For weeks. Maybe longer.”

I move to stand beside her and read the messages over her shoulder. Most of them are vague or coded in a way that makes the meaning hard to pin down. But a few phrases jump out at me.

The newborn is adapting faster than expected.

She rarely leaves the clan leader’s section of the mansion.

Security has increased since the last incident. Recommend patience.

My face goes numb, and I suck in a gasp. These aren’t just leaks. This is surveillance. Someone has been feeding detailed reports about me to an unknown party, and Jonathan is the one sending them.

“We need to tell Thad,” I state. “Right now.”

“Agreed.” Rosalie straightens up and turns toward the door. “Let’s go before—”

She freezes.

I follow her line of sight and feel my heart stop.

Jonathan is standing in the doorway.

“Ladies,” he greets us with a menacing smile. “What a pleasure it is to see you both here.”