Beneath the Surface
“We need to take the book,” I said, still staring at the fake Liber Umbrae Nominium in my hands. The leather binding felt unnaturally warm against my skin, though I knew it was just adrenaline—or my paranoia working overtime.
Raven nodded. “And stake out the springs. If the diver’s going to make a move, it’ll be tonight. Late. After the last of the tourists drift away.”
We headed back to our room, where I changed into darker clothes more suitable for nighttime surveillance—jeans, a black thermal, and my comfortable boots. Raven did the same, slipping a small pack with essentials over his shoulder: water bottles, energy bars, a first aid kit, and his priest’s tools cleverly disguised as ordinary hairpins.
While Raven contacted Dru to update her on our discovery, I secured the fake book inside my jacket, zipping it carefully to keep it protected. When Dru’s face appeared on Raven’s watch screen, her expression was grim but unsurprised.
“Charlie’s the mole,” I told her. The second time didn’t make it easier. “The book wasn’t stolen. Rune’s network is here anyway, with a diver asking questions about the cave system.”
Dru nodded. “I had my suspicions. Sierra’s been too consistent, too eager to please. Charlie has more motivation. Either he’s trying to prove himself to Rune—or he’s passed information to someone else. The book hit the black market hours after I briefed him. There’s already a bidding war—three million and climbing. That’s not Rune’s doing alone. My guess? The Order of Luciel wants it, too. That’s why the Priesthood of Daegan hasn’t put an end to Rune’s shenanigans yet. Bigger fish to catch.”
“What do we do now?” I asked.
“Return the book to the reading room. Make it available for the trap to work as intended.” Dru’s voice was crisp, decisive. “Then watch the springs tonight. If they’re after what they think is hidden in the caves, they’ll move soon.”
“And if the diver attempts entry?” Raven asked.
Dru was quiet for a long moment, straightening a pen on her desk that didn’t need straightening. “Observe. Document. Don’t interfere.” Her reply was firm, but I caught the slight strain in her voice. “We need to know how far they’re willing to go, how much Charlie has told them. Rune’s done this before—starts the bidding early, confident she’ll deliver. But a price that high means more than smugglers. The Luciel faction must believe this is the real thing. Which means they’ll push hard. And someone like that diver? He’s either been promised a payday or recruited for something worse.”
I frowned. “You want us to let someone risk their life for a book that doesn’t even exist?”
“I want you to let the trap complete its purpose,” Dru corrected, and for just a second, for just a second she looked past the camera, at something that wasn’t us. “Lives are already at risk, Lilah. Including yours, if Rune gets what she’s after. The fake book is in play. The real one is secure. What matters now is confirming who’s willing to cross which lines.”
“So we just watch while someone dies?” I pressed.
Dru’s expression hardened. “We watch because if we stop him, Rune sends two more. And we never find the leak.” Her voice dropped. “I hate it. But the alternatives are worse.”
I understood. But it sat in my gut like poison—knowing that we might watch a man die to prove what we already suspected. Dru hadn’t built a successful career by flinching at hard choices.
“Keep me updated,” she said, ending the call.
“She compartmentalizes,” Raven said quietly, slipping his watch back into his pocket. “It’s how she survives decisions like that.” He paused. “How we all do.”
We returned the fake Liber Umbrae Nominium to the reading room, placing it conspicuously on the same shelf where the elderly woman had discovered it—just beside the Civil War histories. Easy to spot, if you were looking. That was the point.
As night deepened, we headed out toward the springs. The evening air carried a chill that hadn’t been there earlier, a quiet reminder that February in Florida wasn’t always the paradise tourists imagined.
We’d packed accordingly—a thick blanket for ground cover, hooded jackets, and a thermos of hot coffee we’d swiped from a buffet table in the main corridor.
We found a spot with clean sightlines to the main spring basin, half-concealed by tall grass and a stand of brush. From here, we could observe without being easily spotted.
The NO DIVING sign stood just visible in the lamplight spilling from the inn. Its bold letters were a warning we were almost certain would be ignored before dawn.
“Comfortable?” Raven asked as we settled onto the blanket.
“As much as one can be while waiting for someone to illegally dive into deadly underwater caves,” I said.
Raven’s mouth quirked in that not-quite-smile of his. “Just another Saturday night.”
The springs took on an otherworldly quality as darkness fell. Moonlight scattered across the water’s surface in fractured silver patterns, and the surrounding cypress trees became looming silhouettes against the night sky. Beyond the occasional splash of a fish breaking the surface or an owl’s distant call, all was quiet except for the frogs going full tilt at the marshy edges—a sound that somehow made the silence feel deeper.
“So we know Charlie’s the mole,” I said quietly, pulling the blanket higher. “The fact that Lovey and Rafe are here proves it. But the real question is whether they’ll actually go through with the dive.”
My breath fogged in the cold. Knowing was worse than suspecting. There was no salvaging hope now. Just watching it play out.
Raven nodded. “That’s what we need to confirm. Whether they’re desperate—or just reckless enough—to try it.”
“If they’re going in, it’ll be before sunrise—before the conservation divers show up and make it impossible.” I checked my watch. “That gives us maybe six hours to see if they take the bait.”
We sat in quiet together, huddled beneath the blanket. The ground felt cold and damp, the moisture making the February chill bite deeper than it should have. Without meaning to, I leaned into Raven’s warmth. He didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he shifted to accommodate me, lifting an arm so I could tuck myself against his side.
“For body heat,” I clarified, though neither of us had questioned it.
“Of course,” he agreed, his voice neutral. Professional.
Too professional.
The hours crept by. Nine became ten. Ten dissolved into eleven, then midnight. We took turns staying alert but never truly let our guard down. Every crack of a twig or rustle in the underbrush made my breath catch.
Around one, Raven shifted beside me. “Conservation team shows at six,” he said quietly. “If he’s smart, he’ll want to be out of the water long before then.”
I nodded, pulling the blanket tighter. “That gives him four hours. Five, tops.”
Around two, Raven took my hands. “Your hands are freezing,” he murmured, taking my fingers between his palms and rubbing gently.
I hadn’t even realized how cold I’d gotten. “We’re Floridians,” I muttered. “Anything under sixty degrees is basically the apocalypse.”
He chuckled—a low, warm sound I felt more than heard. His thumbs moved in slow, steady circles as if anchoring me to the moment.
And undeniably comforting.
“Nothing yet,” I said, eyes fixed on the motionless water. “Maybe we were wrong.”
“Or maybe he’s waiting for the dead hours,” Raven replied. “Three to five A.M.—when even the insomniacs finally give up.”
By three, my eyelids were heavy and my thoughts sluggish despite the stakes. The temperature had dropped again, our breath rising in faint clouds. I tracked Orion’s slow arc across the sky, watching as the constellation shifted from hanging over the water to disappearing behind the treeline.
“I keep thinking about Charlie,” I admitted—the darkness made it easier to say out loud. “All this time…even after Rune, even after everything. I thought maybe there was a line he wouldn’t cross.”
Raven was quiet for a moment. “People surprise us. Sometimes it’s not about crossing lines—it’s about never seeing them in the first place.”
“That makes it worse,” I said. “If he doesn’t even recognize he’s screwing people over.” I pulled the blanket tighter around my shoulders. “But maybe he does know. Maybe he just can’t stop now—too much pride, too much invested in being her hero. Walking away would mean admitting he chose wrong from the start.”
Raven’s thumb traced slow circles on the back of my hand. “Emotional dependence can be its own kind of prison,” he said finally. “Especially when someone builds their entire identity around being needed.”
The words hit closer than I wanted to admit. Charlie had always been drawn to women who needed saving—the more martyrdom required, the stronger the pull.
He once claimed his mission in life was to save me from myself, but the closer I came to fine, the less interesting I became.
With me, he’d grown frustrated once I learned to stand on my own.
With Rune, he found someone who made him feel indispensable—even if she was just playing sweet and needy to soothe his own neediness.
If only I’d recognized it from the start, I could’ve saved myself a lot of heartache.
The hours dragged, and by four a.m., the silence had grown suspicious. No splashes, no shadows—just the soft lap of water and the call of a single owl somewhere in the trees.
“Maybe we missed him,” I said finally. The exhaustion made my voice thick. “Or maybe he’s smarter than we thought.”
Raven checked his watch, then scanned the water one more time. “Conservation team will be here in two hours. If that diver were going to risk it, he’d be here by now. The window’s closing.”
I stretched my empathic sense one more time, extending my awareness despite the fatigue dulling everything at the edges. Nothing near the springs—no anxiety, no determination, no focused fear. Just the usual nighttime wildlife and the distant presence of sleeping guests.
Wait.
There—something dark and urgent fluttered at the edge of my perception, like a shadow in my peripheral vision. But when I tried to focus on it, it slipped away. Too faint. Too far. Maybe just my own exhaustion playing tricks.
“Nothing,” I confirmed. “Either they chickened out, or…”
“Or they never planned to dive here at all,” Raven finished grimly.
We’d been watching for over six hours. My back ached from sitting on the ground, and the cold had seeped into my bones despite our shared warmth. I was shivering and doing my best to hide it from Raven. Even if the diver showed up now, I wasn’t sure I’d be alert enough to observe and document like Dru wanted.
“Call it?” I asked, reluctant to give up but unsure how much longer I could keep my eyes open.
Raven nodded, and I saw the doubt he didn’t bother hiding. “We tried. Maybe Charlie didn’t give them enough information to make it worth the risk.”
“Or too much information.”
We packed up slowly, stiff from the cold and too many hours crouched in the dark. The walk back to the inn felt like a retreat—we’d planned to catch them in the act, and instead, we’d spent the night watching still water.
Back in our room, without even peeling off my jacket and boots, I was asleep before my head hit the pillow.
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