Chapter 159: Chapter 159: The Spy 2

MARCO CLEARED HIS THROAT.

“I… can explain.”

“Then explain,” Grayson said, his voice carrying that edge.

Marco’s smile had vanished entirely. He glanced past them again—not nervously, but with the careful assessment of someone checking for witnesses. Then he sighed, stepping back from the doorway.

“Come in,” he said quietly. “But please—leave the cat outside.”

Shadow hissed, deeply offended.

“She stays,” Mailah said firmly, surprised by her own conviction. “She brought us here for a reason.”

Marco’s expression flickered with something—respect, maybe, or resignation. “Very well. But quickly. My wife will be back from market soon, and she… cannot know about this.”

They followed him inside, Shadow padding between them like a small, furry sentinel. The house was warm, filled with the scent of bread and herbs, utterly normal except for the tension crackling in the air.

Marco led them to a sitting room and closed the door. When he turned to face them, he looked older somehow, the laugh lines around his eyes deepening into something more tired.

“I am not Marco,” he said simply.

Mailah’s hand found Grayson’s instinctively. “What?”

“Well, I am Marco. But that is not all I am.” He ran a hand through his graying hair, a gesture that suddenly seemed less casual and more weary. “My name is Marco Delacroix. And I am a Watcher.”

“A Watcher,” Grayson repeated, his voice flat and dangerous. “You’re telling me I’ve been living next to a supernatural observer for weeks and didn’t know?”

“That’s the point of being a Watcher,” Marco said with a slight, apologetic smile. “We’re very good at hiding.”

“Hiding what?” Mailah asked.

“What we are. What we do.” Marco sank into a chair, suddenly looking every one of his apparent fifty-some years. “We observe. We document. We report to The Council when supernatural events occur in our territories.”

“The Council,” Grayson’s voice had gone cold. “Which Council?”

“The Midnight Assembly. They govern supernatural conduct in Southern Europe. Ensure treaties are maintained. Prevent exposure.” Marco met Grayson’s eyes steadily. “And they are very interested in your wedding.”

Mailah felt her stomach drop. “Interested?”

“Interested enough to send me explicit instructions to monitor you. To report on the bonding ritual. To assess whether—” He stopped, clearly uncomfortable.

“Whether what?” Grayson demanded.

“Whether the bond is legitimate or a threat to supernatural stability.” Marco’s expression turned apologetic. “You must understand, Grayson Ashford is… known. An incubus who abstained for centuries suddenly bonding with a human? It raises questions. Concerns.”

“Concerns,” Mailah said, her voice sharper than intended. “About what? That I might be manipulating him? Or that he might be using me?”

“Both. Neither. All of the above.” Marco spread his hands helplessly. “The Council doesn’t trust change. And you—” He looked at Mailah. “You are change incarnate. A human willingly bonding with an incubus who has spent three centuries avoiding his nature? That hasn’t happened in… well, ever.”

Shadow jumped onto Marco’s lap, startling him. She stared at him with those unblinking eyes, then deliberately pushed her head against his hand—demanding affection.

Despite everything, Marco smiled and scratched behind her ears. “Your familiar approves of me. That’s encouraging.”

“She’s not my familiar,” Mailah said automatically.

“Are you certain? Because she behaves like one. And familiars always know.” Marco continued petting Shadow, who purred loudly. “She brought you here because she wanted you to know the truth. Cats are terrible at keeping secrets they think you need to hear.”

Grayson’s jaw was so tight Mailah worried he might actually break something. “How long have you been watching us?”

“Since you arrived. But Mailah—” Marco looked at her carefully. “I wasn’t the one who tried to scry you yesterday.”

“Who was?”

“I don’t know. But it wasn’t Council-sanctioned. Which means someone else is watching. Someone who doesn’t answer to the Assembly.”

Marco’s expression turned serious. “You need to understand something. The supernatural world is paying attention. Your wedding isn’t just a personal matter—it’s become political. A statement about whether old barriers should remain or evolve.”

“We’re not trying to make a political statement,” Mailah protested.

“But you are. By existing. By choosing each other.” Marco’s voice softened. “And some will celebrate that. Others will try to destroy it.”

The weight of it pressed down on Mailah’s chest. She’d known their wedding was complicated, but hearing it laid out so starkly made it feel overwhelming.

Grayson’s hand found the small of her back—a grounding touch. “What does the Council want?”

“To observe the ritual. To ensure it’s performed correctly and with full consent. To document it for their records.” Marco hesitated. “And to intervene if they believe either of you is being coerced.”

“We’re not—” Mailah started.

“I know. Shadow has made that quite clear.” Marco glanced at the cat, still purring in his lap. “Familiars bond to those whose intentions are pure. If she’s chosen to protect you, then you’re genuine.”

“She hasn’t chosen me. She’s somebody else’s cat.”

Marco and Grayson both looked at her with nearly identical expressions of amused disbelief.

“What?” she demanded.

“Mailah,” Grayson said gently. “Shadow has defended you against threats, guided you to important discoveries, and literally brought you to a Watcher to warn you about surveillance. She’s absolutely your familiar.”

“I didn’t sign up for a familiar!”

“You don’t sign up for familiars,” Marco explained. “They choose you. And once chosen, they’re bonded for life. Shadow has clearly decided you’re hers.”

Shadow meowed—a sound of smug agreement.

“This is insane,” Mailah muttered. “I can’t even keep a houseplant alive and now I have a magical cat?”

“She’s kept herself alive quite well,” Grayson pointed out. “And she’s kept you alive too.”

That was… uncomfortably accurate.

Marco stood carefully, depositing Shadow onto the cushion beside him. “I need you to understand something. I’m not your enemy. I’m required to report to the Council, yes. But I can also ensure my reports are… favorable.”

“In exchange for what?” Grayson asked, immediately suspicious.

“Nothing. Well—” Marco smiled slightly. “Perhaps an invitation to the wedding? My wife would be delighted. She loves celebrations.”

“Your wife doesn’t know you’re a Watcher?” Mailah asked.

“My wife knows I’m supernatural. She doesn’t know I work for the Council. There’s a difference.” His expression turned fond. “She thinks I’m a retired hedge witch who bakes bread. Let’s keep it that way.”

Despite everything, Mailah found herself liking him. There was something genuine in his worry, something honest in his admission.

“The bread,” she said suddenly. “With the basket Shadow brought. Was there anything… special about it?”

Marco’s expression turned sheepish. “Ah. Yes. I may have baked a minor protective charm into the loaves. Nothing harmful—just a ward against malicious scrying. I thought it might help.”

“You baked magical protection into our bread?” Mailah asked.

“It’s what I do. Protective charms work best when baked with intention and consumed willingly.” He shrugged. “Ancient magic. Very effective. Your villa should be harder to observe remotely now.”

Grayson studied him for a long moment. “Why help us?”

“Because I’ve been watching supernatural politics for forty years, and I’m tired of seeing genuine connections destroyed by tradition and fear.” Marco’s voice turned fierce. “What you two have? It’s rare. Worth protecting. And if the Council or anyone else tries to interfere, well—” He smiled. “I’m very good at writing reports that say exactly what I want them to say.”

“You’d lie to the Council?” Mailah asked.

“I’d tell them the truth in a way that serves you. There’s a difference.” Marco moved toward the door, clearly preparing to usher them out. “My wife will be home soon. She cannot find you here—it would raise too many questions.”

As they moved to leave, Mailah paused. “Marco? Thank you. For being honest. For the protection.”

“Thank your cat. She’s the one who made sure you knew.” He scratched Shadow behind the ears one more time. “Take care of her. Familiars are fiercely loyal, but they expect the same in return.”

Shadow purred, then trotted out the door with the regal bearing of someone who’d accomplished exactly what she set out to do.

The walk back to the villa was quiet at first, all three of them processing what they’d learned. The morning sun was fully up now, painting everything in shades of gold.

“So,” Mailah said finally. “We have a Watcher neighbor who bakes magical bread and reports to a Council that’s monitoring our wedding. Any other surprises I should know about?”

“Probably several,” Grayson said. “But let’s tackle them one crisis at a time.”

“That’s very organized of you.”

“I’m nothing if not efficient in my panic.”

Despite everything, she laughed. “You’re not panicking.”

“I’m internally panicking.”

They reached the villa to find Lucien standing in the garden with Oliver and Elin, probably wondering where they’d gone to so early.

Lucien looked at Mailah and Grayson. “You two look like you’ve had an eventful morning.”

“You could say that,” Mailah said.

“Want to share with the class?”

Grayson summarized their encounter with Marco quickly and efficiently. By the end, everyone was staring.

“So our neighbor is a spy for a supernatural council?” Oliver asked.

“A Watcher. There’s apparently a difference.”

“Is there though?”

“According to Marco, yes.”

“And he baked protection into bread?”

“Ancient magic,” Mailah confirmed. “Very effective, apparently.”

“I have so many questions,” Lucien said.

“Get in line,” Elin muttered.

Shadow chose that moment to jump onto the covered mirror and begin grooming herself—a clear statement about what she thought of supernatural politics.

“Shadow is braver than all of us,” Oliver observed.

“That cat is insane,” Lucien corrected.

“She’s my familiar, apparently,” Mailah said, still trying to process that revelation.

Everyone turned to stare at her.

“What?” Lucien asked.

“Marco said she’s bonded to me. For life.”

Grayson’s hand found Mailah’s, threading their fingers together. “Are you okay?”

She looked at him. At the worry in his eyes, the protective way he stood close enough to shield her from threats, the way he was trying so hard to keep her safe in a world that kept throwing new dangers at them.

“I’m terrified,” she admitted. “But also—” She glanced at their joined hands, at Shadow preening on the cursed mirror, at their ridiculous found family arguing about magical bread. “I’m exactly where I want to be.”

“Even with Watchers and a supernatural council trying to sabotage us?”

“Especially with all that.” She squeezed his hand.

He pulled her close, pressing a kiss to her forehead—a gesture that felt both protective and possessive in the best way. “Three days,” he murmured against her hair.

“Three days,” she agreed.

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