The gate closed behind me with a soft click.
I walked up the gravel path. The estate loomed ahead. Old stone. Ivy crawling up the walls. Windows dark except for a few on the ground floor.
A man in a dark suit stood at the front door. He didn't speak. Just opened the door and gestured inside.
The hallway was long. Paintings on the walls. Faces I didn't recognize. The air smelled old. Like books and dust and something else I couldn't name.
The man stopped at a set of double doors. Knocked twice.
A voice from inside. "Send him in."
The doors opened.
The room was a study. Bookshelves covered three walls. A fire burned in the hearth. The fourth wall was glass, looking out onto a garden I couldn't see in the dark.
Behind a desk sat an old man.
Magnus Valerius.
White beard. Deep wrinkles. Black suit. A walking stick rested against the desk, but his hands were steady.
He didn't stand.
"Andres." His voice was calm. Measured. "Sit."
I didn't move.
He studied me for a moment. Then nodded, almost to himself.
"You look like your father. But your eyes are Cassandra's."
"You knew my mother."
"I knew of her. She was not... welcomed here."
I sat in the chair across from him. The leather was cold.
"Where's my aunt?"
Magnus glanced toward the window. "Seraphine will join us shortly. She is... reviewing something."
He folded his hands on the desk.
"You were shot at today."
I didn't react. "You heard about that fast."
"Information moves quickly in this city. Especially when it involves my blood."
"Your blood."
"You are a Valerius, Andres. Whether you accept it or not."
I leaned back. "Then tell me what that means."
Magnus was quiet for a moment. He picked up his walking stick, ran his fingers along the carved head.
"The Valerius bloodline is old. Older than this city. Older than most records."
He looked at me.
"We were not always investigators. That came later. The original gift—the one passed from parent to child—is the ability to touch the Veil."
I waited.
"The Veil is the space between the living and the dead. When someone dies, their spirit passes through it. Most go on. Some get stuck. Trapped. Lost."
He tapped the stick against the floor.
"We can see them. Speak to them. And when they are ready, we can guide them. Help them find the path again. Put them back on the road to reincarnation."
He paused.
"It is a sacred duty. One our family has carried for centuries."
Siver appeared beside the window. He was listening. Quiet for once.
"That's why the city keeps us," Magnus continued. "Not because we solve crimes. Because we keep the dead from piling up. We give them peace. And in return, they give us truth."
I looked at him. "And the other families?"
He smiled. Thin. Old.
"The three families were not always separate. Long ago, a pact was made. Three bloodlines, three gifts, one purpose. To protect this city from what lies beyond."
He raised three fingers.
"Valerius commands the Veil. We see the dead. We guide them. We learn from them."
A second finger.
"Morcant commands the body. Strength. Protection. They guard the living from what might cross over. Their gift is in the blood—speed, resilience, the ability to stand against things that should not exist."
A third finger.
"Aurelian commands the mind. They see what others hide. They feel what others suppress. Their gift is intuition, foresight, the weight of knowing."
He lowered his hand.
"Three houses. Three gifts. Together, they kept the balance. Separately..."
He didn't finish.
Seraphine entered. She closed the door behind her. Walked to the desk. Didn't sit.
"But even with these gifts, there is a price."
She pulled a file from her coat. Dropped it on the desk.
"The curse."
I looked at the file. Didn't open it.
Magnus nodded slowly. "Every generation, the blood demands something. For Morcant, it is their lifespan. They burn bright, but they burn short. For Aurelian, it is their mind. The weight of knowing breaks them. They are prone to fractures. Panic. Madness."
He looked at me.
"For us, the price is presence."
I frowned.
"We are always near the dead," Seraphine said. "Always hearing them. Always seeing them. Most of our family learns to block it out. To build walls. But the stronger the gift, the thinner the walls."
She looked at me with something almost like pity.
"Your father could not build walls. The dead spoke to him constantly. He could not rest. Could not sleep. Could not tell the living from the ghosts."
Magnus's voice was quieter now. "He left to protect you. Not from the world. From what you might become if you stayed."
I stared at the fire.
"He gave up his name. His family. His home." I looked at Magnus. "And you let him."
"We let him," Seraphine said. "Because the curse does not strike everyone the same. Some can bear it. Some cannot. We did not know which he was until it was too late."
I was quiet for a moment.
"And me?"
Magnus leaned forward. "You have been seeing ghosts since you were ten. You have been speaking with them, guiding them, without training, without breaking. That is remarkable."
He paused.
"But it also means your walls are thin. Very thin. The curse is there, Andres. It will always be there."
I picked up the file Seraphine had dropped. Opened it.
Photos. Documents. Names. Dates.
Marcus Kellan. Julian Kellan.
"The Kellans," I said. "What do they have to do with this?"
Seraphine sat on the edge of the desk. "The Kellans were not a family of power. Their father was a contractor. He handled security for our archive for years."
"He was trusted."
"Too trusted. When he discovered what the archive contained—the history of the Veil, the records of our dealings with the other families—he began copying documents. Selling them to the highest bidder."
Magnus picked up the story. "We caught him. The partnership was dissolved. He died soon after. The sons blamed us."
"They've been stealing Valerius records for fifteen years," Seraphine said. "Documents. Ghost testimonies. Sealed case files. They use them to blackmail, to manipulate, to stay hidden."
I looked at the photos. Two men. Young. Angry.
"They killed Elara Vance."
"She was hired to write an exposé on Valerius. But she found out the Kellans were the ones hiding the truth. She threatened to go to the families. They killed her and made it look like suicide."
"Castell signed off."
"Castell was paid. He took her notebook from the car and ran."
I closed the file. "You've known all of this."
"We suspected. We could not prove it." Seraphine's voice was flat. "The Kellans are ghosts. They move through shell companies, hired hands, stolen identities. Every time we get close, they disappear."
"But now?"
She looked at Magnus. He nodded.
"Now you are here," Seraphine said. "And the Kellans made a mistake. They shot at you today. They showed their hand."
I stood. "You want me to go through the archive. Find what they stole. Find them."
Magnus rose slowly. His hand rested on the walking stick.
"We want you to survive, Andres. The Kellans know who you are now. They know you are a Valerius. They will come for you again."
He walked toward the window. Looked out at the dark garden.
"The archive is in the basement of this building. Seraphine will take you there tomorrow morning. What you find may help you understand what the Kellans are hiding. And why they are so desperate to keep it buried."
I picked up the file.
"I'm staying at my hotel tonight."
Seraphine nodded. "Suit yourself. But be careful. The Kellans aren't the only ones watching you."
I stopped at the door. Turned.
"What does that mean?"
She didn't answer immediately. Then:
"Your partner. Ayra Thorne. What do you know about her?"
I frowned. "She's an investigator. Good at her job."
"She is also an Aurelian."
I went still.
"Her mother is House Aurelian. Ayra doesn't use the name. But the blood is there."
I stared at her. "She doesn't know."
"She knows who her mother is. She chose not to carry the name. But the gift—the curse—it is in her. The weight of knowing. The fractures."
I thought about her headaches. The way she pressed her temple. The way she went quiet when things didn't add up.
"You should be careful," Seraphine said. "Aurelians are not always stable. And she is closer to you than is wise."
I opened the door.
"She saved my life today. I saved hers. That's what matters."
I walked out.
The night air hit my face. Cold. Sharp.
I walked down the gravel path. The gate opened automatically.
Siver appeared beside me.
"An Aurelian. Your partner."
"I know."
"She didn't tell you."
"She didn't have to. It's not my business."
Siver laughed. "Everything is your business. That's what you do. You dig."
I stopped at the main road. Pulled out my phone. Called a cab.
Siver floated beside me, quiet for a moment.
"The old man said you have thin walls. That the curse is there."
I didn't answer.
"Do you feel it? The curse?"
I thought about my mother. Her failed surgeries. The ghosts that followed her patients home.
I thought about my father. The man who left because he couldn't build walls.
I thought about the ghosts I saw every day. The voices I heard. The things I never told anyone.
"I feel it," I said.
The cab arrived. I got in.
"Hotel," I said.
The driver nodded. Pulled away.
I looked out the window. The Valerius estate grew smaller behind me.
My father left to protect me.
Now I was walking back into the thing he tried to save me from.
I pulled out the Kellan file. Opened it.
Marcus Kellan. Julian Kellan.
Tomorrow, I go into the archive.
Tomorrow, I find out what they took.
And then I find them.
I put the file away.
My phone buzzed. A message from Ayra.
Drake is stable. They're moving him to recovery. You okay?
I stared at the screen.
An Aurelian. The gift of mind. The weight of knowing.
I typed back.
I'm fine. Get some rest.
She replied immediately.
You too. We find them tomorrow.
I put the phone down.
The cab drove on.
Behind me, the city waited.
Somewhere in the dark, the Kellans were watching.
Somewhere, Ayra Thorne was lying in her bed, probably not sleeping, probably pressing her temple against a headache she couldn't explain.
An Aurelian.
I didn't know what that meant. Not yet.
But I would find out.
I always did.