“Does it look good?”
Antaris bobs his head.
“Does it look like your mom’s?”
A second nod, this one slower.
“I can make it whenever you want. Just ...” Hiram trails off, searching for something memorable. “Just bring me the pasta if you ever want to make it.”
Light returns to Antaris’s eyes.
“You should—”
Antaris picks up his fork and starts eating.
“Next time, I’ll show you how to cook something else like ...” Hiram trails off again, taking in his son’s pleased expression at the prospect of next time. “Actually, anytime you want to help, you can. There’s so much I want to show you.”
Six days later, five boxes appear on Hiram’s doorstep with a note attached in his father’s slanted scrawl. He trashes it after a cursory glance. Unfortunately, the information isn’t imbued into stones. The boxes are packed with manila folders stuffed with papers. He checks each one, skimming for keywords.
He glances at his watch, then cracks his knuckles, eyes on his target. He has time. A moderate weightless charm should do.
“Sine pondere.”
The onyx amulet on his ring flashes purple. The boxes lift, bobbing off each other like listless balloons. He guides them into an empty room and leaves for his next destination. The drive to the FCD is longer than usual thanks to morning traffic. After checking in and ignoring the suspicious look from the old Seer at the security desk, he goes up to the fourth floor.
Hiram is unprepared for the chaos.
Investigators and enforcers crowd the lobby, talking with varying degrees of panic. An acrid scent drenches the room. From fragments of conversation, he picks up:Breach. Stone. Investigation. Compromised. Oracle Council.
In the middle, Hiram spots Seren juggling two conversations while also on the phone. Impressive. Her brow rises when she notices him. She holds up a finger, finishes her call, then waves him over. The closer he gets, the more flustered she looks. The door opens with a curl of her fingers as more investigators stream in, carrying bags of broken stones, ready to report the damage. Seren casts a levitating charm on a particularly heavy stone, the spell not quite enough to activate her bird amulet. Hiram wonders if she’s hurt with how flushed her cheeks are, only a shade lighter than her birthmark.
Not that she notices. “Hey, we’re dealin’ with a minor crisis. Why don’t you come back in a few hours—”
Gabriel emerges from the sea of officers.
“Oh! I was just telling Mr. Ellis to come back later.”
“Please call me Hiram,” he quickly interjects. She nods.
“It’s okay,” Gabriel tells Seren. “I can take it from here.”
She nods. “Nice seein’ ya again.”
Gabriel leads the way to the office he shares with Francisco, though he’s not there when they enter. Once the glass door closes behind them, Gabriel exhales.
“What’s all that?”
“A real shit show. Stone data breach. Fifty hawk’s-eye stones full of evidence from an array of crimes were broken either magically or physically. Most already have Seers in custody, but without the evidence, they’ll be released, which is why they’re blaming the Oracle Council.”
“That’s a stretch.” Hiram scoffs. “Spells can’t be cast from a great distance, and no one from the Council would willingly set foot in here.”
“Clinton has. He bails out Seers who get entangled with enforcers. If it’s not Khadijah he’s bailed out, she usually drives him. Aside from that, no Seers come within a mile of this place.” Gabriel frowns. “But no one wanted to hear logic.”
“Are any of your cases missing?” Hiram asks.
“The Conclave testing Marlene did and two others from the Botanist investigation. Not the worst of it, but some major cases were part of the breach.” He pauses, eyes widening. “We must’ve found something.”
“If that’s the case, then you need to consider the possibility of a mole.”
