“None of it makes sense.” Aodhan slid out one of his twin swords. “Let’s check the houses.”
They looked through eight different ones together, found clothes still hanging in the wardrobes, shoes sat by the front door, furniture standing unmolested, curtains neatly pulled or tied back. Other than large bags of rice and flour, there was no food except for the odd forgotten can in the back of a cupboard—but that could be explained by the residents taking all the easily transportable items with them.
To go where?
With no clothes or shoes or suitcases.
Standing in the center of the street again, surrounded by an echoing, inexplicable emptiness as clouds began to dim the sunlight, he said, “What are the chances Vetra looked in the same houses we did?”
Aodhan glanced at the homes they’d entered. “High,” he said after a while. “This is the logical place to land if you want to assess the situation. She also had no backup so wouldn’t have risked entering the houses that make a quick exit difficult.”
He touched the pocket of his cream-colored shirt with its raised collar and long sleeves. “I can call her.”
“The place isn’t that big. We could take a good look inside all the houses within the hour if we split up, take half each.”
“No splitting up,” Aodhan said at once. “Not here, Illium. China is . . . There are too many echoes.”
Illium had parted his lips to argue that he was fully capable of handling any random reborn that showed up, but shut his mouth on the second part of Aodhan’s statement. His friend had far more experience in this territory—and it was seriously creepy here.
Raphael would not be impressed if Illium got wounded because he’d gone off in a huff due to what was happening with Aodhan.
Instead, he just gave a nod, and the two of them began to go methodically through the houses. At some point, he heard a small meow and looked back to find the tiny gray-furred kitten following them—at a safe distance. Deciding to leave the scared creature to make up its mind about them without pressure, Illium kept watch while Aodhan searched, then they swapped.
It wasn’t something the two of them had to discuss. After so many centuries working side by side, they had a rhythm familiar and effective. So this entire operation was effortless . . . except for the tension that hummed beneath the surface. When their wings brushed as they passed in a hallway, Illium bit back his jerk and just continued on, not looking at Aodhan to see how he’d reacted.
He couldn’t bear to witness him pulling away again.
His mind went to earlier that day, to the moment he’d witnessed Suyin make contact with Aodhan’s skin. He hadn’t meant to see it, hadn’t been spying; he’d been on his way to talk to General Arzaleya when he’d overflown the spot where Suyin and Aodhan stood talking.
The touch had been nothing much. A mere brush of her fingers across his forearm, but Illium knew Aodhan. He could read his physical comfort. Aodhan had been fine with that touch. It hadn’t been unwanted.
Illium was glad his friend was increasing the circle of people with whom he was comfortable when it came to touch, but he was also jealous. It made his cheeks heat to even think that.
What the hell kind of friend was he to be resentful of Aodhan healing?
He shook his head in furious denial. No, that wasn’t it. He loved that Aodhan was healing. He wouldn’t mind if Aodhan touched Jae or Xan or General Arzaleya or literally any other person in this entire territory.
It was Suyin.
Kind, artistic, powerful Suyin who was the perfect match for Aodhan’s own strong, kind, artist’s soul. The last time Illium had spoken to his mother, she’d told him that Aodhan and Suyin sketched together at times.
“I think she feels guilty for taking even an hour for herself,” his mother had said. “But I’ve told Aodhan he must make sure she does take it. It’s critical—she’s had little time to adjust to her new circumstances, needs to stabilize and nourish herself in the way that means the most to her—through creating.”
Illium understood all of that, but the idea of Aodhan and Suyin sitting companionably together while they created, it made him grit his teeth. Aodhan hated people in his space when he worked. Usually, he only allowed Illium or Illium’s mother into his studio. Illium had spent many an hour quietly cleaning both their weapons while Aodhan painted.
It was their thing.
“Now I sound like a jealous fuck even to myself,” he muttered under his breath.
And that was when he saw it. “Aodhan.”