“I see.” Rachel clasped her hands together over the desk and stared him down. “Is stonewalling how you normally run things? Is that standard operating procedure for your division?”
Patrick didn’t move an inch under her gaze. “This isn’t stonewalling. This is me following my orders, which come from the director we both serve under. If you have a problem with that, take it up with her.”
The impasse lasted at least a minute before Rachel broke the staring contest with a ploy at faux concern. “Every field agent is required to have a partner. The fact that you don’t is worrisome.”
“I don’t need one.”
Patrick could be a team player and had been in the Mage Corps, surrounded by people who’d been trained like he had been to deal with magic and demons in a war zone. He missed his old team more than his therapist knew, but those who were left were running dark right now and he hadn’t heard from them in months. Coming into the SOA when initially recruited, he’d tried working with a partner or two those first weeks after clawing his way out of the bottom of a bottle and suicidal thoughts.
It didn’t end well.
Setsuna had been the one to transfer his last partner and affirm his solo status in the records. Patrick worked his cases alone because of the gods he could never outrun. He didn’t need to subject someone else to his shitty life.
“I’ll bring up my concern with the director again. I want to be kept apprised of any new leads in the case as they come up,” Rachel said.
“I’ll keep that request in mind.”
The faint tic at the corner of Rachel’s mouth told him she knew he was only spouting lip service. “We’ll talk later, Collins. This meeting is over.”
Patrick tipped his head her way. “Ma’am.”
He left her office feeling like he had a target on his back. Patrick couldn’t get out of the building and to his car fast enough. Throwing himself behind the steering wheel, he slapped his hand against the roof of the car, warding the vehicle for silence despite the sting that came with using his magic right now.
He pulled out his phone and unlocked it, swiping into his contacts. His thumb hovered over Setsuna’s name before he sighed and tapped back to the keypad. Patrick entered a string of numbers instead, letting the call ring through three times before hanging up. He repeated that two more times before waiting thirty seconds and calling once more.
Setsuna picked up on the first ring.
“Line and location are secure” were the first words out of her mouth.
“I got voluntold to keep Rachel updated on the case,” Patrick said.
“Don’t.”
“I wasn’t planning on it before, and I’m definitely not planning on it now. What is going on, Setsuna?”
“I wanted you to form your own opinion without mine influencing yours.”
Patrick froze, staring at the empty seats in the car parked nose to nose with his. It felt like someone had poured ice water down his spine. “You don’t trust her.”
“I don’t trust a lot of people, and we are still cleaning house.”
“You’ve been cleaning house since I was a child.”
“You know why.”
Patrick swore, closing his eyes. Yeah, he did, and that was the problem. He leaned forward and rested his forehead against the steering wheel. “You think Rachel belongs to the Dominion Sect.”
“I think this case has been purposefully delayed from reaching my desk for six months. It was luck the DC office received the appeal from the New York City PCB at all.”
Patrick thought about Marek and his inability to have clear visions at the moment. He thought about the Fates who saw fit to saddle Patrick with a werewolf. He thought about the signs carved on the dead, Hermes’ sinister warning, and the too-sharp attention of a witch who should have been on their side.
The next words out of his mouth felt like glass, slicing deep. “You think it’s Ethan.”
Setsuna’s silence spoke volumes.
The Dominion Sect had gone by many names throughout the centuries, but their number one priority always remained the same: the subjugation of the gods and removal of the veil between worlds. Rogue magic users of every creed who belonged to the shadowy group all lived double lives, as did their many human followers. Ferreting any of them out was difficult. The higher-ups rarely made mistakes, but when they did, those mistakes were brutal for everyone involved.
Patrick’s mother had never really known the true nature of the family she married into. That blindness cost Clara Patterson her life when Patrick was eight years old and Ethan Greene had murdered her.
