Page 62 of Property of Crypt Keeper

Gideon made a low sound beside me. Dorian ignored him.

“Nothing cruel,” he went on, continuing to ignore Gideon. “Merely assistance with a future matter.”

Not trusting the demon behind the counter for a single second, I narrowed my eyes. “Forgive me for saying, that sounds more than a little suspicious.”

“It should,” he admitted with a wicked gleam in his pale eyes.

At least he was honest. I hated that I trusted him a bit more because of it. Because if there was one thing I could say with certainty, it was that Dorian never lied. Oh no. Instead, he omitted horrifying amounts of information.

Considering my options at the moment, I exhaled slowly. “Fine.”

Gideon turned immediately. “Katalina,” he barked.

“I said fine,” I repeated through gritted teeth as I refused to look Gideon in the eye. My spine burned where I now knew the marks were etched.

Dorian’s lips curved into a dark and twisted smile. Like a shark.

Ugh, I hated him.

Then he crossed toward a locked cabinet behind the counter and pulled an ancient silver key from his pocket. The lock opened with a well-oiled snick before he swung the door open and lifted out a large leather ledger and carried it to a desk in the corner.

Old. Handwritten. Magic clung to it like an oily aura. He opened it slowly, with an almost reverence. “I can tell you that someone has been purchasing unusual things.”

He motioned for us to sit in the two leather chairs facing the desk before he flipped several pages. “Silver-lined restraints.”

Page flip. “Magical suppression wards.”

Two more pages. Then his finger slid down the page as he scanned through the rows. “Supernatural sedatives.”

Another page turn. “Medical refrigeration equipment.”

We took a seat. Gideon’s expression darkened with every word.

Then—Dorian looked up. “They aren’t buying for harvesting.”

Silence. Long, calculating silence. Then—“They’re buying for reproduction.”

Gideon went perfectly still beside me. Not physically. Something deeper. Something animal.

Dorian dropped his gaze and flipped another page. “The purchases changed around six years ago.”

More pages. Then he stopped. His eyes slowly lifted. “One thing bothered me.”

Gideon folded his arms. “What?”

Dorian’s eyes locked onto his. “They initially ordered containment systems intended for wolves.”

Silence. Then, “A few years later…” Several page turns interrupted his speech. “…they began ordering smaller restraints.”

Silence. Smaller.

The room shifted like static on an old television before the picture restored itself. Gideon’s wolf rose violently beneath his skin. The wood of the arms beneath his hand cracked. Not much. Just enough.

Children.

Someone expected children.

Dorian looked down at the ledger again. “One name repeatedly appeared attached to the transactions.”