Still Waters Run Deep

Lilah · Chapter 1 of 5 · 14-minute read

Professor Drusilla St. Augustine had a thermometer for danger, and I’d learned to read it like scripture. Cold missions were simple pick-ups—authenticate a manuscript, verify a sigil, come home for dinner. Warm missions meant watching your back. But when Dru labeled something “hot” from the beginning? That’s when I started checking my cuff twice before leaving the house, because hot missions were the kind where someone might not come back.

“Your anxiety is loud enough to wake the dead.” Raven eased Dru’s government-issue sedan along a winding road flanked by cypress and pale palmettos. Up ahead, the Ghost Glass Inn came into view—low-slung and weathered, half-swallowed by moss and memory.

“I’m not anxious. I’m realistic.”

Pressing my palm against the window, I watched the dark-paneled inn with its sun-faded tile roof emerge from thick woods and shadow like something from another era.

Well, yeah. Definitely from another era.

February in North Florida carried an edge: cool enough for my jacket, but the air still held that bone-deep dampness that made everything feel ancient and untouched by the modern world. The parking spot Raven chose offered clear sightlines to both entrance and side exit. He hadn’t even seemed to choose it.

Our mission looked simple on Dru’s encrypted briefing. Her Historical Society contact had planted a fake Daeganean artifact in the inn’s reading room right after lunch, about an hour ago. Now it sat waiting for thieves until noon tomorrow. A twenty-four-hour window. Nothing to impede our ability to act like normal guests doing normal vacation things.

Dru had issued two versions of the mission briefing—one sent to Sierra, one to Charlie—each with distinct details. Neither of them was tasked with executing the mission; their role was simply to receive the information and make any arrangements specified in the instructions. Dru herself had booked the inn and finalized the logistics. Sierra’s version said the artifact would be in the reading room. Charlie’s version indicated the book had been hidden in the cave system below the springs. Both had been explicitly warned not to discuss the assignment with anyone. If either of them had passed that information along, we’d know soon enough.

We were here to bring the fake book home, if possible, and if not, to see who took the bait. Even if we failed at both, Dru would call it a success.

Because it was a trap. Not for us, but for the two people who might have done the unforgivable: steal from an occult library.

Someone was expected to take that book by noon tomorrow. Maybe this afternoon or during the night. I didn’t have to be an empath to feel the expectation hanging in the air between Raven and me. Within twenty-four hours, we’d know who the mole was in Dru’s Special Collections Library, and that’s what made the mission hot. Otherwise, it would have been easy-peasy.

“Just light surveillance and possible pickup,” I muttered, shouldering my overnight bag. “No need to be anxious over that.”

“A simple Gate One acquisition,” Raven agreed.

Neither of us believed it.

We collected our overnight bags from the back seat. Approaching the inn, we blended seamlessly with the other tourists admiring the weathered woodwork and faded charm of the place. Blackened cypress siding wasn’t exactly common in this part of the state, though maybe it had been in the 1930s, and the dark exterior drew curious glances from passersby as if the building itself were a relic that had decided to keep going. The springs themselves were on the other side of the building, hidden for now, and from here, there was no hint of the crystalline depths that had drawn visitors for generations.

Inside, the inn smelled faintly of fried chicken and biscuits baking somewhere nearby, probably in the bustling restaurant to our left. It was the kind of comfort food that hadn’t changed recipes since the Truman administration. The lobby leaned into its own version of old Florida charm—shadowed beams overhead, mismatched armchairs grouped around a broad hearth, the fire crackling more for effect than warmth. A display case held a taxidermized alligator, mid-lunge, its glass eyes catching the light. A gentle hum of conversation filled the space, punctuated by the clink of silverware from the restaurant, all of it unhurried, as if deadlines were a modern invention this place had chosen to ignore.

“I’ll check us in,” Raven said, touching my elbow so lightly I might have imagined it.

I nodded and wandered through the lobby while he approached the front desk. My fingers skimmed the dark banister of a broad staircase, my gaze following its curve upward. The ceiling rose high above exposed beams, lit by sconces that cast more shadow than light. The uneven tile beneath my hiking boots created soft scuffing sounds as I moved.

I closed my eyes, inhaling deeply, letting my empathic senses expand. The inn felt peaceful. Not artificially so, like a hospital waiting room, but genuinely tranquil in the way of places that had perfected the art of existing outside time. Decades of contentment had soaked into these walls. I could feel the echo of countless guests who’d found exactly what they were looking for here. But underneath all that peace, my own anxiety kept up a low thrum I’d learned to trust more than I wanted to.

Dru could’ve sent Matrease on a simple surveillance mission, but she was determined to have me spend as much time as possible with Raven. Not that I minded—exactly the opposite, which was the problem. Every time we were alone, I found myself wanting things I’d sworn off after Charlie.

“Room’s ready.” Raven appeared silently at my shoulder.

I didn’t startle. Working with Raven meant adapting to his particular gift for materialization. If I hadn’t been so attuned to his energy signature, I’d have thrown an elbow on instinct.

I’d stopped jumping at his sudden appearances months ago. Mostly.

We headed up the stairs without speaking, our footsteps swallowed by the old wood and quiet air. Everything here moved at the speed of honey and Southern drawls.

“Like stepping into another decade,” I murmured.

“Mmmm. Some places wear their history better than others.”

I caught the note of approval in his voice. For all his modernity, he had an old soul and a longing for simplicity. Plus, the inn was off the beaten path with no TVs and barely any cell phone signal, and he was looking forward to being less connected than usual and closer to nature.

When we reached our room, Raven produced an actual metal key. Not a magnetic card. Not a digital code. Just cold, solid brass that turned in the lock with a satisfying click. The door opened on pale walls that might have been beige or pale mauve but were most likely tinted by sunshine on the curtains on the opposite wall. Two beds—one twin-sized and one double—were separated by enough space to build a small shrine to awkwardness.

“Just like the fifties,” I said with a half-smile, dropping my bag on the double bed. “At least Dru didn’t book us just one bed this time. She’s learning.”

Raven cleared his throat. “She actually did book one bed. I requested the change at the front desk to switch us to a room with two beds.”

The realization landed warm and complicated. He’d thought about my comfort before I’d even considered the potential awkwardness, and he’d acted on it without making it into a big gesture or expecting gratitude. Charlie would have mentioned it three times and waited for praise. Raven just…took care of things.

The realization was as unsettling as it was appealing. There was a reason for the old warning about not getting involved with coworkers.

What was it?

Oh, yeah. Don’t shit where you eat.

Charlie had taught me that lesson the hard way. When a workplace romance goes south, you still have to see each other every day. Still have to be professional while your heart is in pieces. Still have to watch them move on with someone else right in front of you.

“Thank you.”

He was already assessing the room—measuring exits, cataloging hiding spots. “Reading room first? Confirm the book is in place and let the professor know?”

We unpacked just enough to look settled—toothbrushes in the bathroom, clothes in the dresser. The performance of being ordinary guests doing ordinary things. But as we moved through the inn’s corridors, I couldn’t shake the feeling that we were actors on a stage, visible to anyone who cared to watch. We’d pretended to be a couple more than once on our adventures together, and it always—always—made us feel more focused on the fact that we weren’t but could be.

The inn wasn’t hard to navigate. Most of the guest rooms lined a second-story corridor, while the restaurant and lobby took up the main floor below. We followed the hallway toward our destination, passing a few guests on their way to late lunches and a wall of vintage photographs that made the springs look busier than they did now.

The reading room sat at the far end of our wing—a sunny room with a view of the water through leafless trees. The biggest surprise was the boardroom-style table surrounded by twenty chairs and the fact that only two bookcases held anything close to books.

When we entered, I tapped my smartwatch, and Dru’s face appeared, silver-streaked hair pulled back in its usual elegant sweep. I’d finally stopped missing calls on the damned watch. Mostly. She sat at her desk at the Special Collections Library, surrounded by leather-bound volumes waiting for authentication.

“We’ve arrived,” I said quietly, angling my watch so both Raven and I could see her. “About to confirm placement.”

Raven crossed to the far end of the reading room while I spoke. He was already scanning the shelves.

“It’s in place,” Dru said, her voice cool and confident. “Our Historical Society contact had lunch in the restaurant downstairs and then left the artifact in the reading room around 12:45. Right on schedule.” Her voice carried that particular crispness that meant business. “Do not retrieve early.”

“Surveillance status?” Raven paused near a row of leather-bound volumes.

Dru’s expression shifted subtly. “Interesting developments. The equipment you two planted at Charlie and Rune’s house picked up several calls from her burner phone. Most likely to her half-sister, Lovey.”

After our experience in Savannah, Lovey’s involvement was a red flag. Even a phone call, let alone several. She and her husband Rafe were the field agents to Rune’s mission control. They’d proven competent in the past, even if Rune had been stingy with the information she’d given them, as if she didn’t trust them completely.

I stepped toward the window. I needed the visual reassurance of the peaceful springs.

“Lilah, Raven? Nothing definitive in their conversations, but something’s brewing. Whether she got her information from Charlie or from Sierra—well, that’s the whole purpose of the trap I’ve set.”

“What about Charlie and Rune?” I kept my ex-boyfriend’s name flat, professional. “Any movement toward Ghost Glass?”

“Both at home. Charlie’s working remotely today, and Rune hasn’t left the house since yesterday. That means that if Charlie took the bait, she’s sending someone else.”

Raven glanced toward the door twice to ensure no one was listening. “Rune’s pattern has been to use Rafe and Lovey as field operatives. But patterns change when circumstances do.” He shifted closer to the window. “Her network lost Marco. She might be working with unknowns now. People we won’t see coming.”

“Precisely. Be careful.” Dru paused. “Lilah?”

Something in her tone made me wary. “Yes?”

“There’s something else. Rune’s been asking questions of anyone who’ll give her the time of day, and some who won’t.”

“About our mission?”

“About you.” Dru sucked air through her teeth. “And about me.”

Something in Dru’s tone flattened the room around me. I knew without asking but asked anyway. “What kind of questions?”

“The dangerous kind. About your past. About mine.”

My past wasn’t casual conversation material. Not unless someone already held fragments and wanted the whole picture. Charlie knew pieces—more than most—but even he didn’t have the complete mosaic. The question was whether he’d hand over those pieces to save himself or if whatever remained of his feelings for me would hold the line.

But that wasn’t even the real problem. Even if Charlie kept his mouth shut, Rune was a professional manipulator. She’d proven she could extract information without people realizing they were giving it. She could piece together my secrets from casual conversations, old photos, things Charlie muttered in his sleep. Hell, she probably had a mental dossier on me already, just waiting for the right details to fill in the blanks. I’d trusted him with those secrets when I thought we had a future. Now they might become weapons in the hands of someone who’d never even asked for them directly.

“Samantha reported Rune approached her outside the university library yesterday. Same questions.”

“Fishing expedition?” I asked. I knew better.

“Leverage hunting.” Dru’s expression hardened. “Questions about you concern me. Questions about my past could destroy everything I’ve built. For the priesthood. For you.”

I felt the careful phrasing of that land. Everything she’s built. That was such a careful way to put it. Dru had taken me in when I had nothing—a graduate student with an empathic “gift” that had nearly driven me insane before I learned to control it.

Don’t think about Budapest, I told myself, but the memories came anyway. When I’d nearly lost my mind and run away, Dru had sacrificed everything to negotiate a deal with Aoife Jung to bring me home from that prison. The therapy sessions afterward. The safe place to sleep. The way she’d given me purpose, training, a makeshift family in the Historical Society supporting the Order of Daegan.

If Rune found the right pressure point, I’d never have a second chance to rebuild my life. Third chance? Fourth?

“If she finds out,” Dru said softly, “those repercussions can’t be undone.”

“We’ll be careful.”

“The book?” Dru prompted, shifting our focus.

Raven drifted farther into the room, eyes on the shelves. After a moment, he nodded toward a row of leather-bound volumes.

I followed his gaze and spotted it immediately: Liber Umbrae Nominium. The Book of the Shadowed Names. It nestled among leather spines like it belonged. The forgery looked authentic from a distance, but both of us knew better.

“It’s here,” I confirmed. “Undisturbed.”

“Good. Maintain surveillance. Report any unusual activity immediately.”

The connection ended, and I looked up to find Raven studying me with that unreadable expression of his.

“You’re worried.”

“Dru’s worried,” I corrected. “Which means I’m terrified.”

“About the questions Rune’s asking?”

I moved back to a window and gazed out at the serene waters of Ghost Glass Springs. The surface gleamed like polished glass in the midday light, reflecting the surrounding cypress trees with mirror-perfect clarity. Peaceful. Deceptive. What lay beneath that pristine surface was a labyrinth of underwater caves where a single wrong turn meant death—150 feet down to caverns that had claimed divers who thought they understood the depths. The springs looked like a postcard. Postcards don’t show the bottom.

“Charlie knows things about me,” I said finally. “Things I told him when we were…close. But he doesn’t know everything. And he knows even less about Dru.” I turned back to Raven. “But if Rune’s asking questions about both of us, she’s looking for something specific.”

“Leverage hunting. Like Dru said. She wants the power to force Dru to let her back into the library. Or to get her hooks deeper into Charlie.”

“Or both.” I stared at the fake book on the shelf. Its spine gleamed dully in the afternoon light. “Do you think he’ll tell her everything he knows about me?”

Raven was quiet for a long moment. “I think Charlie loves you,” he said finally. “Still. In his way.”

“His way nearly got us both killed.”

“I didn’t say it was a good way.” Raven stepped beside me at the window. “But even selfish love draws lines. The question is whether those lines hold when the pressure gets serious.”

I wasn’t so sure. I’d seen what happened when Charlie felt trapped between me and Rune. I’d lost that contest once. Would my secrets fare any better?

And here I was, despite every hard-learned lesson about mixing work with feelings, letting myself notice how Raven moved through the world with quiet competence. How he anticipated my needs without making a show of it. How different he was from Charlie in all the ways that mattered.

Maybe that difference was exactly what made it dangerous.

“We should secure the book,” Raven whispered as an older couple stepped into the room.

We crossed to the shelf like casual browsers. Raven reached for a volume near our target while I pretended to scan titles.

I eased the fake Liber Umbrae Nominium partway out, confirming what we already knew. The work was impressive—aged leather, gilded edges, appropriate weight—but to our trained eyes, clearly not genuine. Worth perhaps $200 to a collector who didn’t know better, but positioned as if it were worth the $2 million of the real thing.

I slid it back into place and angled it slightly, just enough to draw attention from anyone who might come looking. Raven nudged a nearby chair into a better position for surveillance.

The trap was set. Now we just had to wait for someone to take the bait.

“Dinner?” Raven suggested once we were out of earshot of the reading room. “We should establish our presence. Act like normal guests.”

I nodded, but my thoughts remained tangled around Rune’s questions, Charlie’s potential betrayal, and whatever was coming for us here at Ghost Glass. Dru had labeled this mission “hot” from the start—dangerous enough that someone might not come back. But sitting here in this peaceful inn, with Rune’s network potentially closing in and my own secrets turning into weapons, I was starting to think Dru’s thermometer might need recalibrating.

Hot missions had a way of becoming infernos. And we were just getting started.

But as we walked toward the restaurant, Raven’s steady presence beside me, I knew something had shifted. Despite every warning bell in my head about workplace romance, despite Charlie’s betrayal still raw in my memory, some part of me had already started trusting Raven with more than just missions.

He was solid. I was the one with fault lines beneath the surface.

Chapter 2: Unseen Currents →

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