Upon explaining the situation and letting Vanessa into Warren's cottage, Dale gave her a minute. He had assumed she had known. Of course, she hadn't.

Warren sat at the dining table, staring blankly ahead. His skin and hair had lightened to a pale white. But, it was his eyes that had changed the most.

His eyes that had smized at her. The eyes she had fallen in love with. Now, they stared past her, to nothing, holding none of the joy Vanessa knew him for.

Vanessa held his hand and sobbed. She couldn't catch her breath and she chased it like a desperate traveler to a runaway train. No, no. She had known grief. Vanessa had lost people. But, she had never imagined she would lose Warren. It seemed like too cruel a twist of fate. But, what was her karma anyway? She had lied to Warren and planned to betray him. Did she even deserve to be upset that he had left her first?

Her impeccable makeup melted down her face. She restrained herself from scratching at her skin. Aches permeated her lungs.

For two years, he had been functionally comatose. Disconnected to the world.

And she hadn't known.

He must've become albino within weeks of embarking on his solo mission at Fablehaven.

Speaking of, there was no way his mission had been a mission for anything but the artifact. Warren was on the same level as her, if not higher within the Knights. Of course, knowing that the leaders of the rival organizations were one and the same, Vanessa assumed her Society credit carried over.

This had to have been his mission. And now the Sphinx had sent Vanessa in, yet her mission file held no information about Warren at all. No details on prior failed missions.

No one had told her about Warren.

Who would have?

Why would they?

What would she have done if she had learned of his fate when it had happened, two years ago?

Vanessa couldn't imagine. She didn't want to. She already felt overwhelmed by the now.

Warren's hand twitched in hers and her head shot up to lock on his eyes, hope pausing her grief.

But no, they were the same eyes.

Blank and devoid of emotion.

Her own fell back down.

—

In her free time apart from the search, Warren became an integral part of her day. Sometimes she went with Dale, sometimes she went alone. Caring for him reminded her profoundly of when her own injury had transformed Warren into a mother bird.

He had always been better at that kind of stuff. Caring, babysitting (he was amazing with kids), and comforting.

Vanessa wasn't. Those roles remained foreign to her. Every act of care shed her calloused skin. An admission that she wasn't the ruthless operative she knew herself to be.

And that?

That was terrifying.

—

Tanugatoa Dufu quickly became her favorite to work with out of her two mission partners. Especially since he used his free time like her—to help Warren.

Dale maneuvered Warren into a sitting position on the edge of his bed. He sat there, still and blank.

Vanessa had read in a book about comatose patients that hearing was the last sensation to leave and that even seemingly unresponsive patients could still hear. So, whenever she was alone, she talked to Warren.

I'm sorry I didn't come sooner. This is Vanessa, in case you don't remember my voice. We were mission partners. Her voice always broke on that part. I'm going to take care of you. I miss you so, so much. I love you.

Tanu prepared his emotional concoction as Vanessa rubbed the goosebumps out of her arms. Everywhere she went she felt Warren. His ghostly laugh, words, and smile.

Vanessa heard him when she tripped; laughing at her from behind. She heard what he would say to Coulter when the old man was being an asshole. She saw him opening and closing his hands like a beak and mouthing blah blah blah while Dale explained the mechanics of the tractor to her. When reviewing Patton Burgess's novels, she heard his off-hand intelligent quips about his relative that would lead them to new discoveries. She felt him all around, except for when he was right in front of her.

"What is the intended effect of this one?" Vanessa asked, turning to Tanu.

The large man stopped stirring and caught her eye. "Rage. I'm trying to do the strongest rage potion I have, see if that can break through the fog."

It was a good idea since everything else had failed. But, she felt uncomfortable at the idea of inducing such anger in Warren. He was naturally even-tempered, and the few times she had truly seen him get angry had been for her defense. She keenly remembered the last time.

A gas bomb had disarmed her and sent her sprawling on the floor. The enemy had crouched and twisted a knife into her leg. More than the blinding pain, she remembered the fire in Warren's eyes, the yells, and how ruthlessly he cut the enemy down. She remembered and balked at seeing another iteration.

Vanessa turned to Dale, expecting to see the same hesitation but only found him staring at Warren. She forgot, sometimes, that Dale had been coping a lot longer than she had. He was ready to try anything.

Vanessa didn't know what she was willing to try.

And that scared her.

Nevertheless, Warren sat just the same as always, blank and unreachable. Vanessa took his hand and warmed his cold skin with her palm.

When Tanu had asked if she had known Warren before his albino state, she had said that she had seen Warren in passing once or twice, nothing more. But, inside this cottage, her grief overflowed the sandbags she had built around her losses, and she knew Tanu saw past her lie. She just didn't care.

Dale took the potion jar and tilted it at Warren's lips, massaging his throat. When it was all gone, Dale sat back. They all watched. Warren remained still and blank.

"I've seen men go mad from a single drop of this before," Tanu said, voice full of confusion.

Hopelessness filled her lungs.

Vanessa wanted to be polite and ask for a moment, but she didn't trust her voice. Instead, she exited the room and climbed to the roof. Dale had told her that it was Warren's favorite part of his cottage, and she could see why.

Warren had always been a lover of nature and stars, and the roof opened up to such a beautiful view. He had always told her he could never live in a city or suburbia, because of the gray night sky. Privately, she had nursed a daydream of a cottage somewhere far, far from everyone that held just her and Warren.

As her heart clutched at the thought, Vanessa wiped her mind and deliberately focused on thinking of nothing as she breathed the clean, Connecticut air.

Just a little farther, past the trees, stood the main farmhouse. If Vanessa had been operating normally, she would have been locked up in her room, reviewing every single map, document, or scrap available, and scribbling in the margins with umite wax until she passed out. But, instead she took her free time to be here in the cottage.

Tanu also, but he had a reason. He was the potion master. Vanessa was just there to watch. She wanted to be there when Warren woke up.

She knew if she bit Warren, she would be able to tell the first time he slept with his conscious self. But, she would never. Never. Warren deserved so much more.

The ladder clanged and Tanu's figure rose over the lip of the roof. He sat down next to her.

And said nothing.

He said and asked nothing like a good Knight—honoring secrets held the highest respect. And Tanu was nothing if not respectful.

"We'll keep trying," Tanu said. He didn't look at her, his eyes tilted to the sky above.

The words sounded as empty as they were. It wasn't uncommon in this line of work to meet the end in a myriad of ways. It wasn't uncommon to lose someone precious. Those were the hazards of the job.

Vanessa had signed up for that job. Vanessa intended to do well at that job.

She couldn't do any other job.

Not now. With all she knew.

Vanessa nodded in respect for Tanu's attempt. "Of course. If we have free time."

The stars twinkled far above and the constellations of lovers drifted further apart across the sea of dark night. Vanessa returned to her room and locked it—reviewing every scrap of information—until the stars became the light morning sky and the air soured stale.