Marek’s hazel eyes washed out to a silvery gray. His aura cracked wide open and magic—invisible, ancient,primordialmagic—ran up hard against Patrick’s shields before rebounding right back at the seer. Marek let out a strangled cry, hunching over on shaky legs, the brightness of his aura dimming. Patrick caught one of his arms before he could face-plant on the floor and hauled him over to the nearest chair.
Marek put his head between his legs and took in heaving breaths of air. His reaction told Patrick all he needed to know about this case—that it was, as always,complicatedas fuck when Patrick was brought into the mix.
While Casale checked Marek over, Patrick deactivated his silence ward. Between one breath and the next, Leon barreled into the office, a growl coming from deep in his throat.
“Bad vision,” Patrick told him. “Don’t worry, we’re leaving.”
Leon curled his lip at him, teeth far sharper than they had been earlier. “What did you ask him?”
The way Leon put his body between them and Marek, the way he touched and scent-marked the other man in the way of pack, told Patrick they were more than just coworkers. Lovers, maybe; at the very least, friends.
“I’m sorry this is the outcome, but you don’t have the clearance to know, Leon,” Casale said as he stepped aside to let Leon take his place. “He may need a hospital. I’ve never seen Marek react like this before.”
“We know what to do for him when this happens. You don’t. Just get the hell out of here, Casale,” Leon growled.
Casale didn’t try to press his case. Instead, he jerked his head at the door, and Patrick followed him out of the office to the elevator, excruciatingly aware of the dark looks the werecreatures in the workforce were sending their way. Patrick could feel eyes follow their every move, and the weight of all that attention didn’t lift until the elevator doors closed on PreterWorld’s headquarters.
“That was a waste of time,” Patrick said, breaking the silence on the ride down.
“Marek has never not seen the future before,” Casale said, a deep frown on his face.
“First time for everything.”
“Not for him.”
“Whether his sight works for you or not, I don’t think his pack will like you coming around after this.” At Casale’s sharp look, Patrick rolled his eyes. “What? I may not see the future, but I’m not fucking blind.”
“Outside,” Casale ordered tersely as the elevator doors opened on the lobby.
They left the building, and Casale directed Patrick into his unmarked police car. Patrick slid into the front passenger seat and sighed in relief when Casale started the engine and turned on the air-conditioning.
“Ward us,” Casale said.
Patrick sketched out another silence ward on the dashboard, filling the car with static. “Talk.”
The look Casale shot him came from a man who was used to giving orders, not obeying them. Patrick held Casale’s gaze, refusing to back down.
“Marek’s status within the werecreature community isn’t common knowledge. How did you know Leon was a werecreature?” Casale asked.
“I’m a mage. It’s a handy trick we get taught,” Patrick lied easily enough. “What’s Marek’s relationship with Leon?”
“What Marek does with his personal life isn’t the government’s business, as he likes to remind me.”
“Do I look like I give a fuck? I’m not some xenophobic asshole, despite my job.”
“Your agency doesn’t really inspire a lot of faith in most people, Collins.”
“I’m aware of the problems in the SOA. But those problems aren’t this one. You’re the one who asked for help from my agency, and I’m what you’re getting. But I can’t do my job if you don’t share what information you have.”
Casale studied him silently for a long minute before abruptly changing the subject. “You’re a mage. Why aren’t you working with the PIA?”
The Preternatural Intelligence Agency was the traditional choice for most mages who left the Mage Corps when they declined to re-up with the military. That agency’s intelligence operations extended beyond combat zones, specializing in the collection and analysis of preternatural-sourced intelligence by way of aboveboard channels and clandestine endeavors. The PIA had all but begged Patrick to join them, but he’d chosen the SOA instead.
It’d been a form of rebellion at the time that hadn’t really changed anything. Patrick was still weighed down by obligations he couldn’t escape.
“I’ve seen enough of the world on the government’s say-so. I didn’t need to see any more of it. Figured I’d come back home to the States instead,” Patrick retorted. “Stop changing the subject.”
“Marek is a seer. He can do what he likes.”
