The elevator slowed to a speed that didn’t compress my brain inside my skull, then floated upward until the digital number above the door read forty-seven. Another chime, and the door slid open to reveal a small lobby with straight halls leading off each side.

Directly ahead was a pair of sleek double doors.

We crept out of the elevator. Tension vibrated my limbs as I stared at those doors. The penthouse condo. I’d bet my entire savings account that this wasn’t a mere cultist hideout.

It was Xever’s penthouse.

Chapter Eighteen

The lair of my enemy. Not a humble townhouse or a modest apartment, but a one-of-a-kind abode with luxury, sophistication, and a price tag that put Uncle Jack’s gaudy mansion to shame.

I looked at Zora, her lips pressed thin as she stared at those doors. She, too, had realized we were about to set foot in an enemy stronghold.

“This place may not be unguarded,” she warned in a whisper. “We need to be quick and careful. Andrew, Venus?”

Andrew slid a black case from his pocket, revealing a set of lockpicks. As he knelt in front of the bolt, Venus pulled out what looked like a bottle of clear nail polish. She gave it a quick shake, then used the little brush to swipe the liquid across the top edge of the door.

I leaned toward Zora. “What’s Venus doing?”

“A magnetic solution,” she whispered. “If there’s a security system, it’ll prevent the alarm from tripping when the door opens.”

The bolt clicked. Andrew nudged the door open by a fraction, and loading her small brush again, Venus slathered more liquid across the inner frame. As she capped her bottle, he swung the door farther open.

Slipping inside, we were met by a two-story foyer with a grand, curved staircase and towering windows that offered a stunning view of the distant mountains, scarcely visible against the dark sky. To our left was a large dining room with a black table and ten chairs, partially open to the foyer. To our right, a short hall with a corner of a kitchen counter visible.

The silence was broken only by our quiet breathing. The place seemed abandoned.

“Taye,” Zora whispered, unmuting her mic. “Any change?”

“Nothing.”

“Mics open, everyone,” she instructed, then pointed at Andrew and Gwen and gestured to the left. She directed Drew and Venus up the stairs, then waved at me and Zylas to follow her to the right. We entered the glossy white kitchen with a long island in the middle.

A sudden noise behind me made me leap half a foot in the air.

Zylas pressed a hand to his nose, having just muffled a sneeze. “I can’t smell anything but that hh’ainun’s stink,” he complained. “But I do not hear anyone.”

“Keep moving,” Zora ordered, several steps ahead of us.

Heart pounding, I followed after her. The floorplan curved with the outer wall of windows, and we proceeded into a spacious family room with a fireplace. Though poshly decorated, the room was impersonal. Nothing cultish in sight.

Doubts flitted through me. Was this not a cult base? Why wasn’t it guarded?

A wide hall led us past the open doorway of a spare bedroom and into a large room—an office that filled one end of the penthouse. A custom-made desk was fitted into the far corner and a long table was pushed up against the floor-to-ceiling windows that formed the entire outer wall.

Papers, folders, maps, and documents covered the table.

“There’s nothing at this end,” Andrew reported. “We’re heading your way.”

“Just checking the master bedroom,” Venus said. “Doesn’t look like there’s anything up here either.”

“The jackpot is in the office.” Zora glanced warningly at me. “Don’t touch anything.”

Zylas stayed near the hallway, keeping watch while Zora and I approached the table. The quiet in the penthouse pressed in on me, my pulse beating in my ears like a clock ticking down. I reminded myself that Xever was at the club, and Taye would warn us if he left. We’d have time to get out.

I halted in front of a large map of Vancouver and the surrounding area, with markings in different colors all over it. A slow prickle ran through me.

Leaning over the table beside me, Zora pointed at an orange circle. “That’s the building where we found the vampire nest.”

The building where Zylas and I had first encountered Vasilii—and nearly died.

“And here … that’s the nest you uncovered after getting washed down the storm drain.”

Another location where I’d almost perished.

She scanned the map. “And these three here … locations where we’ve found vampires in the past.”

My gaze slid up past North Vancouver. On the west side of Mount Seymour was a wide circle around Uncle Jack’s hideout, where we’d fought and killed Vasilii—and where Nazhivēr had stolen the grimoire pages.

My attention shot back down and stuttered on a purple ring on the northern coast. I pointed. “Is that—”

“The stevedoring facility where we fought Varvara Nikolaev’s rogues,” Zora said in a low growl.

And where Nazhivēr had almost killed her.

I skimmed across the map, picking out different spots. Uncle Jack’s mansion. Xever’s townhouse. His apartment. My apartment. All of them were circled and marked with a red X—meaning compromised or destroyed, I was guessing. The locations where we’d encountered Vasilii, where we’d fought Nazhivēr, and where we’d found Saul and his sons had all been crossed out.

The Grand Grimoire. The Crow and Hammer. Odin’s Eye, the Pandora Knights, the SeaDevils. Only the latter was crossed out—because their headquarters and the helipad had both been destroyed.

But there were more circles, many more, some with X’s and some without.

I scanned again. There, south of the Eastside—Aaron’s house. A few more blocks south, another address was circled, but I didn’t know why. I swallowed the bile in my throat, fighting back a wave of dread.

“What’s the color code?” Zora muttered in terse frustration. “What does red mean?”

I looked back toward downtown. She was staring at the Crow and Hammer, circled in bright red. More circles in orange, purple, and blue had been drawn nearby.

“Whoa.”

The voice came from nearby at the same time I heard it through the speaker in my ear. Andrew, Gwen, Venus, and Drew walked in, eyes wide.

“Start taking photos,” Zora said, “and don’t touch anything.”

As the others spread out through the room and Zora aimed her cellphone camera at the map, I moved down the table, passing Arcana notations, and stopped on a lunar chart for February. The full moon had been circled, and the next seven nights had been counted. The eighth was circled again, and beneath it was a time: 6:57.

A strip of another map peeked out from behind the lunar chart. With a quick glance at Zora, who was rapidly snapping photos, I slid the lunar chart aside.

A topographic map. It showed a mass of land bordered on two sides by water. At the peak of a broad hill, a meticulous circle had been drawn, intersected by straight and curved lines that streaked across the map at various angles.

Those were anchor lines for planning an Arcana array that needed to be precisely oriented in relation to polar north or an astral alignment—an array like Anthea’s portal spell. And positioned on a hilltop—perfect for ensuring the spell would be exposed to unobstructed moonlight.