Two guards flanked the door, as immobile and expressionless as tin soldiers. I’d been standing here for five minutes and neither had acknowledged my presence. In light of the night’s events, to speak would mean having to find something to say, and it was easier to stare straight ahead and do their jobs.

Paige had gone in first to get an update on Troy. He was out of surgery, still unconscious, but his condition had stabilized. My father was with him, Griffin having joined them.

When I heard Paige offer my father something to eat, I knew she was starting to stall. I had to get in there.

Oh God, how could I tell him?

I took a deep breath and walked in. My father, hearing my footsteps, pulled back the curtain.

“Lucas.”

He reached out with one arm, the other hand clutching a coffee cup, cardboard rippling under his grip. One look in his eyes and I knew he already suspected what I was here to tell him. Maybe that should have made it easier. It didn’t.

I walked over and embraced him.

A HALF-HOUR later I was sitting in the tiny Reflections Room with Paige. Two guards were posted at the door. I’d have preferred to stay with my father, but it had been his suggestion that we rest here for a few minutes. Someone had to find Carlos and supervise the intensive operations surrounding not only the investigation into my brothers’ deaths, but also the notifications, the cover-ups and the arrangements, both private and public. It would be too much for my father. The duty fell to me.

And he had another duty, one that I could not help him with: telling Delores that two of her sons were dead and the third was missing.

I hadn’t mentioned my suspicions about Carlos. As strong as my father was, that revelation might be too great a blow.

The search team had a report of Carlos dining at a restaurant he frequented. It had been hours since he’d been there, but it would be a place to start.

I was due to meet with the search team in thirty minutes. In the meantime, I was heeding my father’s advice, resting in the Reflections Room. In a public hospital, this would be the chapel. While many supernaturals adhere to a religious faith, the Cortez Cabal is careful to keep such places nondenominational.

“I don’t think I can do this,” I said after a few minutes.

“You can.”

“Investigate one brother for the murder of the other two? My brothers?”

“You can, but if you don’t want to, he’ll understand.”

I shook my head. “It isn’t a matter of want.”

“Then you can.”