[BL] I Didn't Sign Up For This-Chapter 45: In Which I Meet Professional Monster Hunters (They’re Surprisingly Normal)
The meeting location was a warehouse in the industrial district.
Of course it was a warehouse. Because apparently every single clandestine supernatural meeting in this city happened in abandoned warehouses. I was starting to think there was some kind of zoning requirement. "Warehouse District: For All Your Sketchy Midnight Rendezvous Needs."
"This feels like a trap," I said for the third time as Azryth’s car pulled up to the building.
"You’ve said that." He put the car in park but didn’t turn off the engine. "Twice."
"I’m saying it again for emphasis."
"Your concern is noted and logged." He was scanning the area, those ember eyes seeing things I couldn’t. Heat signatures, probably, magical wards, the structural integrity of the building. Who knows. "But Sarah was correct about one thing, we can’t stay in the penthouse, the wards are already showing stress fractures from spirit pressure."
"So instead we’re walking into a potential ambush."
"We’re walking into a calculated risk with multiple exit strategies." He finally turned off the engine. "I can portal us out in under three seconds if this goes badly."
"Three seconds is a long time when people are trying to kill you."
"Then let’s try not to let it get to that point." He got out of the car.
I followed because what else was I going to do? Stay in the car like a coward while my demon husband walked into a hunter stronghold alone? That seemed like poor spouse behavior.
The warehouse looked abandoned from the outside. Broken windows, graffiti, the usual urban decay aesthetic, but the moment we got within ten feet of the entrance, I felt it, layered wards, complex, and definitely active.
"They’re watching us," I muttered.
"Obviously." Azryth’s hand found the small of my back, protective and possessive, the binding hummed approvingly. "Stay close."
The door opened before we reached it.
Sarah stood there. Except she didn’t look like the Sarah I remembered, the patient volunteer in sensible shoes who’d taught foster kids how to throw punches.
This Sarah wore tactical gear. Black, fitted, covered in pockets that probably held things that killed supernatural entities, her hair was pulled back tight, and there was a gun at her hip that looked way too complicated to be standard issue. 𝗳𝐫𝚎𝗲𝚠𝚎𝗯𝕟𝐨𝘃𝚎𝗹.𝗰𝗼𝗺
But her eyes were the same. Sharp, assessing, kind in a way that suggested the kindness was a choice rather than a default setting.
"Riven," she said. "You look good, less angry than you used to be."
"I’m just as angry, I’ve just gotten better at hiding it."
She smiled slightly. "That’s a nice improvement." Her gaze shifted to Azryth, and I felt her assessment sharpen. "Azryth Valek, the bound lord himself."
"Sarah." He said her name like he was testing the weight of it. "Or should I use your real name?"
"Mara Voss." She stepped aside, gesturing for us to enter. "Sarah was the cover identity, Mara is who I actually am."
"Mara Voss," I repeated, the name pinged something in my memory, something from the archive. "You’re one of the Voss wardens, your family sealed three major rifts in the 1800s."
"Four, actually, but who’s counting?" She closed the door behind us, and I heard multiple locks engage. Magical and mechanical. "Come on, the others are waiting."
The warehouse interior was nothing like the exterior suggested. It had been converted into something between a military command center and a supernatural research lab.
Monitors lined one wall showing live feeds of the city, tables covered in maps, books, and weapons that glowed with various types of enchantments. And people, maybe a dozen of them, all looking very alert and very armed.
They all stopped what they were doing when we walked in.
The attention was immediate and uncomfortable, I felt Azryth tense beside me, his hand still on my back.
"Everyone, this is Riven Kael and Azryth Valek." Mara’s voice carried authority and command. "They’re here under truce protocol, anyone who violates that answers to me."
The tension didn’t exactly dissolve, but it shifted, weapons stayed visible but not actively pointed at us.
A man stepped forward from the group. Older, maybe sixties, with gray hair and the kind of scars that came from a long career of fighting things that fought back. "I’m Henrik, the cell leader."
"Henrik Torn," Azryth said with recognition. "I heard you died in Prague."
"I got better." Henrik’s smile was thin. "Heard you got sealed in an amulet for five centuries, how’d that work out?"
"About as well as you’d expect."
They stared at each other for a long moment, some kind of old warrior assessment thing I didn’t fully understand.
"So," I said, because someone needed to break the weird testosterone standoff. "You’re the hunters who’ve been tracking my bloodline since I was eight."
"Among other bloodlines, yes." Henrik gestured to a table covered in documents. "The Kael line has been on our registry for over two hundred years, your great-great-grandmother Emma was particularly notable."
"Yeah, I’ve heard." I moved closer to the table, Azryth shadowing me. "She killed a bunch of Covenant operatives."
"Seven confirmed, three suspected." Mara joined us at the table, pulling out a specific file. "She was one of the most effective warden operatives in the 19th century, the Covenant put a bounty on your entire bloodline after she disrupted their East Coast operations."
The file contained photos. Old ones, daguerreotypes and early photographs. A woman who had my eyes staring back at me from across a century and a half.
"She looks pissed off," I observed.
"She had reasons to be." Mara flipped through pages. "The Covenant killed her husband and two of her children trying to stop her, the spent the last decade of her life hunting them in return."
Well. That explained the family curse thing.
"Why are you showing me this?" I asked.
"Because you need to understand what you are." Henrik leaned against the table. "You’re not just a warden, Riven. You’re a Kael warden, that bloodline specializes in binding and sealing infernal entities. Your ancestors were jailers."
The word landed heavy.
"Jailers," I repeated.
"Wardens weren’t just defenders," Mara said quietly. "We were enforcers, prison guards, the ones who kept demons locked away when they violated realm treaties." She glanced at Azryth. "No offense."
"Some taken." But he said it mildly.
"Your bloodline specifically was tasked with maintaining high-security seals." Henrik pulled out another document, this one covered in symbols I vaguely recognized from the archive. "The kind used on demon lords who were too powerful to kill but too dangerous to leave free."
Oh.
"Like the seal that trapped Azryth," I said.
"Exactly like that seal." Henrik’s eyes were sharp. "Which makes your current situation... complicated."
"Complicated how?"
"Because traditionally, when a warden binds to the entity they’re supposed to be containing, it doesn’t end well." Mara crossed her arms. "Either the warden gets corrupted and the seal breaks, or the warden has to destroy themselves to maintain containment."
"That’s not happening," I said immediately.
"We know." Mara’s voice was calm. "We’ve been monitoring the situation since your binding went active, your energy signature is unusual—merged but stable, you’re not being corrupted, you’re integrating."
"Which is unprecedented," Henrik added. "And extremely concerning to multiple factions who liked the old balance."
"The Covenant," Azryth said.
"Among others." Henrik straightened. "Look, here’s the situation, your pulse last night triggered every alarm we have, half our cells think you’re about to become a walking apocalypse, the other half think you already are one."
"And you?"
"I think you’re two people trying not to die." Henrik’s expression softened marginally. "Which is why we’re offering help."
"Help in exchange for what?" Azryth’s voice had gone cold.
"Information, cooperation, and access to your combined abilities when we need to seal rifts." Henrik held up a hand before Azryth could respond. "Not servitude, it’s partnership. You help us close the rifts the Covenant is deliberately opening, we help keep you alive and hidden from the multiple factions currently hunting you."
"That’s it?" I asked. "No strings attached?"
Mara and Henrik exchanged a look.
"There’s one condition," Mara said carefully. "After the current crisis is resolved, after the Covenant is dealt with and the rifts are sealed, you agree to let us study the binding. Figure out how it works, how you’re managing stability, how we can replicate it for future containment protocols."
"Study the binding," I repeated.
"Non-invasively," Henrik clarified. "Interviews, energy readings, magical resonance scans, nothing that would harm either of you."
Through the binding, I felt Azryth’s calculation, he was weighing risks, measuring trust, considering angles.
"And if we refuse?" he asked.
"Then you walk out of here with our thanks for coming and no hard feelings." Henrik’s voice was genuine. "But you’re still hunted, still exposed, and still facing the Covenant alone."
Silence settled over the warehouse.
I looked at Azryth, he looked at me.
Through the binding, I felt his question clearly: *Your choice.*
"We’ll consider it," I said finally. "But we’re not agreeing to anything until we see proof you can actually protect us, the Covenant breached Valek Tower’s wards, what makes your warehouse any safer?"
Mara smiled. "Because we’re not staying here." She moved to one of the monitors, pulling up a map. "We have a safehouse, old warden stronghold, underground, warded by three generations of my family line. The Covenant has tried to breach it twice in the last century, and they failed both times."
"Where?" Azryth asked.
"Twenty miles outside the city, entrance is hidden, access is restricted, and the wards are designed specifically to hide warden signatures." She looked at me. "Even ones as loud as yours."
"How soon can we move?" I asked.
"Tonight." Henrik checked his watch. "Your twelve-hour window is down to eight, we leave at sunset."
I looked at Azryth again, and felt his reluctant agreement through the binding.
"Okay," I said. "We’re in, temporarily."
"Temporarily is all we’re asking." Mara extended her hand.
I shook it. Her grip was firm, calloused, the grip of someone who’d spent years holding weapons.
"Welcome to the resistance," she said.
"Resistance against what?"
"Against everything trying to kill you." She smiled slightly. "It’s a long list."
Yeah. I was getting that impression.
