I gather the last scraps of power, and my filaments get to work. I follow telephone wires, fibre-optic lines, the humof routers. Ministry servers bloom as towers of digital parchment: search logs, surveillance reports, tickets—a river of text. I slip between packets of information like smoke.
There, his name:Kane, Lander – Council Hunter, Magical Enforcement Division. Photo: that infuriatingly handsome face. Service record, commendations, a handful of disciplinary notes. Current assignment:
Investigate anomaly – suspected sentient structure, Enterprise Zone. Possible illegal human-to-derivative transformation.
Beneath, the tools meant to track me: satellite heat sweeps, magical sensor grids, CCTV cross-checks, a ‘wizard house incidents’ database.
He was not bluffing. He has cast a net to catch me.
So I place my filaments upon the net.
The system churns. A map, dots marking past sightings; beside my old Enterprise Zone address flashes a bold tag:subject lost.
That was fast.
I slip into the code that draws the map and write.
A new entry blooms in the far north, deep within the Shifter Sector’s inner border—coordinates that, in truth, belong to a mountain valley where shifters suffer no visitors.
Anomalous Ward Signature Detected– possible relocation of sentient structure
Status:inaccessible – shifter blockade. Further investigation pending Alpha Prime’s permission.
Good. Go bother the shifters.
I do not stop there.
A separate system holds threat assessments on extremist groups.Human Firsthas a file thicker than my family spellbook; they have bombed more Ministry buildings than I have windows. I slide a rumour into an intercepted message chain, set to surface in a few days:
HF-Cell 9 believes wizard house acquired as covert base – sentient fortress, capable of teleporting. Source unconfirmed.
Elsewhere, in the ‘wizard house incidents’ table, I add another timed cross-reference:
Possible link: Human First activity spike in the Midlands. Unverified claims of derivative-killing sentient house in their possession.
Let the Ministry chase that.
And more.
In a CCTV archive, I nudge a timestamp so a stray flare in the Magic Sector resembles the afterimage of a teleporting building. In a shifter complaint log I translate a shepherd’s grumble—‘weird glow behind the second wall’—into a formal notice of unusual wards. In a routine Vampire Sector bulletin I drop a line:
Minor disturbance in western quarter – resident reported ‘house that wasn’t there yesterday.’ Patrol found nothing.
Over the next few months the map will glitter with leads: northern anomaly, Human First whispers, vampire disturbance, odd signature near the Magic Sector. Not enough to screamtrap—just enough to make a hunter itch.
A nasty little thrill runs through my rafters.Enjoy the wild goose chase.
My magic flickers—thin now, colours washing out. I drift back from the scrolling text until I am only myself; the wards settle to a low, steady hum.
I am hidden. I am alone. For the moment, I am safe.
My magic flickers low, and I surrender to the quiet.
Chapter Eleven
Four Months Ago
I needyour help with a woman,Beryl says, hovering before the bay window and basking in the spring sunlight like a cat. She loves the warmth soaking into her wood, even if she prefers the cover of night for almost everything else.She has got herself into a pickle. A dog, a slum landlord, and?—
