Nicholas and Harper arrived at his Brooklyn apartment; it had been a while since he was there, yet the space felt deeply familiar. He walked straight to his old bedroom, his mind racing. Kneeling by the wall, he carefully removed a loose panel, revealing a hidden compartment. He had anticipated this moment since the first whispers of the demons reached his ears, but now, he felt very anxious.
Harper was close behind him, her presence grounding. She placed a hand on his shoulder and gave him a firm nod—an unspoken assurance: I'm here.
Nicholas took a deep breath and retrieved a small, brown box. He flipped it open and slowly ran his fingers across the medallion inside, waiting, bracing—
Nothing.
No visions. No voices. No hum of energy.
He turned to Harper. "Nothing."
"Let me hold it," she said.
He hesitated, concerned. "Are you sure?"
Harper merely gave him a look that said really?
He handed her the medallion. She traced her fingers along its surface, searching for the pulse of the supernatural that should have been there. But like him, she felt nothing. Shaking her head, she handed it back, watching as he returned it to his pocket.
"You think it has something to do with our baby?" Harper asked, her voice quiet.
Nicholas shook his head. "I'm not sure."
She took a good look at the room, searching for signs that might indicate that someone had been there recently. She tried to use her ability to scan for recent supernatural presences in the space.
Nothing. She still couldn't use her power.
"Come on," Nicholas said. "We can't stay in one place too long until you can cloak us again."
Just Then, they heard a floorboard creak in the living room.
Nicholas stiffened, he looked at Harper, raising a finger to his lips. Stay here, he mouthed, then moved silently toward the disturbance.
Before he reached the living room, a voice rang out. "We know you're in there. We haven't come to fight. We're only here for Miss Winslow."
Nicholas froze, every muscle in his body prepared to strike.
"Reapers from the Glades could be here any minute," the voice continued. "You're not cloaked. We found you, so can they."
Stepping into view, Nicholas saw them—four men, all dressed in black, armed with guns that had silencers. They looked professional. The one who had spoken was a middle-aged man with white hair, an athletic build, and a grey eyepatch.
"You're not here to fight, yet you've come with guns," Nicholas said.
The man smirked. "Call it a precaution. Now step aside, boy, or we'll be forced to use them."
Nicholas squared his shoulders. "Miss Winslow doesn't want to go with you. So, if you want to take her, you'll have to go through me."
The man turned toward the bedroom. "Miss Winslow, we're from your parents. We don't have to hurt him, but we will if we have to. You're in danger from the Reapers, and he can't protect you. You're exposed. We need to leave. Now."
Harper's voice was sharp from the bedroom. "I won't go with you. Tell them I said so."
"Well, you heard the lady," Nicholas said. "Be gone."
The eyepatched man sighed, almost regretful. "I'm afraid that's not an option." He turned to his men. "Take her carefully. She's pregnant. Kill the boy if he interferes."
A goon raised his gun and stepped forward.
Nicholas panicked, and something within him—something dark, something powerful—rose to the surface. A voice, not his own, thundered through him.
"STOP. SLEEP."
The advancing goon dropped to the ground, unconscious.
Eyepatch reacted instantly, firing his gun. The bullet grazed Nicholas' left shoulder.
"NO!" Harper screamed, rushing out of the bedroom.
"Stay there, Harper!" Nicholas barked.
The other men lunged.
Nicholas turned to them, eyes glowing. "STOP BREATHING."
Two of them fell to their knees, gasping, clutching at their throats. Their faces turned red, veins popping out on their foreheads.
Eyepatch raised his gun again, but Nicholas was already on him, moving too fast for a normal man. Knocking him out with a hard punch to the jaw.
Harper, now in the living room sees two of the goons writhing on the ground. Unable to draw air, the others are unconscious.
"Don't let them die, Nic," she murmured. ''We'll need information.''
Nicholas exhaled sharply. Tapping into his demon self. BREATHE.
The men choked in air, coughing violently.
SLEEP.
They collapsed, unconscious.
Nicholas turned to Harper and placed a hand on her stomach. "You both alright, babe?"
She nodded. "Mm-hmm."
Moving quickly, Harper gathered the guns, stashing all but two in the medallion's hiding place. She handed one to Nicholas and kept the other.
"I'll find something to tie them up," Nicholas said.
Harper crouched beside one of the sleeping men, noticing a gold chain with a silver locket around his neck. "They have cloakers." She snatched one from him, then another from a second man.
Pricking her finger, she let a drop of blood fall into each open locket, then did the same for Nicholas.
''Great,'' she sighed ''I suspect mother made these so there's a good chance they'll last till we reach Salem.''
''Wake up you foul goons'' Harper said, kicking the tied-up henchmen.
Eyepatch blinked weakly, then tensed. "How long were we out?"
''Shut up'' Harper said sharply "We'll be asking the questions."
His eyes contorted with something close to fear. "You don't understand. If we don't check in, your parents will send reinforcements." He hesitated. "How long have we been out?"
"He's scared." Nicholas said.
Harper scoffed. "He's stalling, he's well coached. Knowing my parents, there are four more men not too far away, aren't there?"
Eyepatch didn't answer.
Harper grabbed a rusty pair of pliers. "Let's try this again. Every question you don't answer? You lose a fingernail."
Eyepatch swallowed hard.
"Who told the Glades about my child?"
He turned to Nicholas. "Someone from his family." He spat.
Nicholas' expression darkened.
Harper barely had time to react before a loud bang echoed through the apartment. The front door burst open. Six more masked and armed men flooded in.