They found a pot in the kitchen and made their way back to the living room to cook. “So, according to Klaus back there, sounds like the garage is our best way in. Like Siegen.” Liam chattered, anxious, as he gathered bedding and pillows while Daniel busied himself at the fireplace, heating a coffee kettle. “We can find Kreutzer’s office, nab the book, and get the hell out.”

“But Kreutzer knows your face. Pitr too.”

“I have ways around that,” Liam said.

“I thought it was too dangerous for you to use the shadows now. Won’t they alert Pitr, or something?”

He hesitated. Pitr’s voice, echoing in the woods. “This is too important not to take the risk.”

Daniel headed toward him with a mug of coffee. The smile on his face, both shy and hopeful, set a fire in Liam’s gut.

“You’re a goddamn angel,” Liam said, as he took a sip.

Daniel closed his hand around Liam’s on the mug’s handle, then let his lithe fingers trace down Liam’s wrist, along the divot of his elbow. Liam held his breath, afraid to startle him away. Daniel’s fingers fluttered hesitantly at Liam’s side before dropping.

“Kreutzer doesn’t know my face,” Daniel said. “At least, not as well.”

The coffee turned cold in Liam’s mouth. “No. Hell no. We do this together. It’s safer this way.”

“You’re right.” Daniel worried his lower lip with his teeth. “I just . . . I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“And I don’t want you to get hurt. So I guess we’re even.”

Liam tipped Daniel’s chin up with his fingertips. He wanted to burn everything about Daniel into his mind—the flinty dart of his eyes, the plushness of his lower lip, the dark curl that lingered over his brow no matter how many times he shoved it back. No matter what became of Liam, he wanted to remember this, and how giddy it made him feel.

“Daniel . . .” Liam murmured, throat tight. Please don’t be afraid for me, he wanted to say. I can still control this darkness. My days of being powerless are gone. But he wasn’t willing to tell Daniel any more lies.

They sank down to the couch, and Liam tossed back the rest of the coffee. Daniel’s hand found his once more, its weight a comfort, something solid he could hold tight. Daniel shifted, drew in a breath to speak.

“I need to see this through.” In his lilting accent, it sounded so grave, so official.

Liam turned to face him. “Daniel,” he murmured. His fingers slid into Daniel’s hair, cupped the shell of his ear. How had everything felt like a struggle with Pitr, and with Daniel, it came so naturally? “Daniel, I want—”