Jeff took Ethan’s phone, and when Jeff tapped a few keys, the librarian appeared on-screen, his dark, wavy hair sticking up in disheveled locks, as it usually did. He wore a polo shirt and a new pair of black-rimmed glasses that, however unnecessary, added to his debonair-scholar appeal.
Beside him sat Paige, a woman who was almost ridiculously attractive. Vibrant, short red hair with a Marilyn-esque wave, pale skin, green eyes. She wore a heather gray Cadogan House sweatshirt that somehow, on her, looked elegant.
We’d found Paige keeping a lock on the Order’s archives in Nebraska until Dominic Tate burned the place down. And then we brought her home, with the last few books she’d managed to pull from the flames.
“Librarian. Paige,” Ethan said in greeting.
Paige offered a small wave.
“Liege,” the librarian said.
“Have you identified any connection between Aline and Niera?” Ethan asked.
“Directly? No,” he said. “No information on Niera beyond what you’ve provided, for obvious reasons. Basic biographical information for Aline, but nothing terribly interesting there. No, the key here isn’t Niera and Aline; it’s their disappearances. Long story short, they aren’t the only ones who are gone.”
If the librarian hadn’t yet gotten everyone’s attention, he got it now. Even the low hum of the computers seemed to drop another decibel.
“They didn’t have anything in common except for the fact that they’re supernaturals and they’ve disappeared. So we dug through newspapers and missing persons bulletins in Illinois, Indiana, Iowa, Michigan, Ohio, Wisconsin, and . . .” He fumbled through a stack of papers on the table in front of him.
“Minnesota,” Paige politely finished, sliding him a smile. “You always forget Minnesota.”
“I always forget Minnesota,” he agreed. “We looked over those records for the last three years and cross-referenced the records with the North American Vampire Registry, friends in the community, anyone else we could think of to identify whether any of those missing persons were supernaturals.”
“We talked to Merit’s grandfather,” Paige said. “He seemed very eager to offer his thoughts.”
I smiled. “He’s probably ready to jump out of his skin and appreciated the distraction.”
“That he was,” she agreed. “He’s looking forward to seeing you. I told him I’d pass along his love.”
“Consider it passed.”
The librarian cleared his throat. He wasn’t much for chitchat. “We took those missing supernaturals and looked for an associated supernatural event.”
“An attack,” I said, and he nodded.
“No harpies,” he said, “but there are instances of magical attacks with some of those kidnappings. One involved a sudden bout of bloodlust—set off a bar brawl. Another was an indoor pixie attack. Nothing at the scale of the harpies or elf glamour, though.”
“And how many did you find?” Ethan asked.
“That we can confirm, six.”
Ethan blinked at the screen. “Six missing sups with attacks? How has no one noticed this before? Realized this was going on?”
The librarian frowned. “Why would they? Supernaturals didn’t used to talk to each other. Most of this happened before we were out of the closet. Some group attacks you, you lose a member, you probably aren’t going to publicize it.”
Ethan nodded. “What groups did you find?”
“That’s the unusual thing,” the librarian said, crossing his arms on the table and leaning forward. “It’s a veritable Noah’s ark: troll of the non-River variety, sylph, doppelgänger, giantess, a suspected but unconfirmed leprechaun, and an incubus.”
There was a buzz of recognition in my bones. “What about shifters and elves?”
“Neither,” he said. The librarian read the names of the missing in chronological order, and Jeff added them to the growing “Victims” list on our electronic whiteboard, which already included Niera and Aline.
I scanned the list and looked back at Ethan, dread growing cold and heavy in my stomach. “How many of these species live together?”
“Together?” the librarian asked, lifting his gaze to me. “In families?”
“Families, clans, houses, whatever. How many?”
“Incubi tend to live alone. Ditto doppelgängers, trolls. The rest live in small bands—usually family-based structures. But that would be maybe five or six together at most. Nothing even approaching the size of a Pack or elf clan.”
“Or the ferocity,” Paige said, scanning a paper in front of her. “Most of the creatures on the missing list are relatively peaceful, keep to themselves. Incubi and leprechauns can be troublemakers.”
“It is Noah’s ark,” I said, walking to the board and pointing at the top of the list of victims we’d assembled chronologically. The first on the list? An incubus.
“You start with the solitary species,” I said. “One supernatural at a time. Sups who live alone, who assimilate. They’re easier to trap, to catch. And their human friends just think they’ve moved along, or they’ve been the victim of some traditional human violence.”
“And then you ramp up,” Jeff said, moving beside me to get a full view of the screen. “You target the sups who only band together in small groups. The ones less likely to put up a fight, or the ones you can easily overcome in size.”
“And once you’ve built up your confidence, you move to the trooping animals,” I said. “Elves and shifters are harder to grab, their magic stronger, their groups significantly larger. So you employ big magic—full-on attacks to keep the groups distracted while you happily sneak away with one of their own. Perhaps you kill a few in the process, but who cares?”
“Okay,” Catcher said, “but they could have snatched Aline at home or alone. Why make it complicated?”
“I don’t know,” I said with a frown.
“Let’s say Merit’s right,” Mallory said, crossing her arms. “What’s the real motive? So you have a bunch of different supernaturals. A checklist of some kind, and you’re marking them off one by one. Why? What’s the reason for something like that?”
“Hatred of supernaturals,” Ethan suggested. “Taking them out one by one.”
“But we haven’t found any bodies,” I said. “If this was political, like something McKetrick would have done, there’d be some sign.”