“Or hungry for a picnic basket. But I’m a great hugger. Anyway,” I refocused, “Angel took me to the marketplace across the Veil. Where the old stadium was.”
“That doesn’t sound like a “no magic” date,” Hardy pointed out.
“There’s a hell of a bookstore in there,” Angel said, as if that explained everything.
“Which is where we were when everything went boom,” I added, spreading my hands in a mock explosion. “Next time, we’re sticking to a movie like boring, normal people. I hear rom-coms are less likely to rip a hole in reality.”
“Explain everything in detail from the moment you left the market,” Hardy instructed.
The next twenty minutes was a master class in careful omission. Angel painted us as conscientious first responders, which was true. I filled in my parts, sticking to sensory details.
“The magic felt aggressive. Like the ritual across the Veil,” I said. “There was a barrier. I could see the opening, dark and jagged, pulling at the edges of reality. It felt like it was being torn open from the other side.” I let my hands fall limp in my lap. “I’m sorry, that’s the best I can explain it.”
The shifter agent gave a slight nod.Truth.
“And then what happened?” Hardy pressed, leaning forward. “The barrier dropped. The energy signature vanished. How?”
“I don’t know,” I said, and it was almost true. I’d stitched the tear, but the spells collapse had been instantaneous, as if its power source had been cut. “One second it was a gaping hole, the next it was just wall. And the spell collapsed. Maybe something on the other side of the Veil was fueling it? The last time we encountered similar ritual magic, it was across the Veil.”
Hardy leaned back; frustration etched on his face. He knew we were holding back, but the shifter wasn’t calling us on it.
“The firefighters said you told them the people inside were dead,” he stated, changing course.
“Necromancer,” I reminded him flatly. “I can sense death. They were gone.”
“Did they talk to you?”
“No.” Nat had seen to that, guiding the woman and child out. Angel had wisely omitted the Reapers presence entirely, and I followed his lead, clinging to the lie of omission by my fingernails. “The ghosts vanished right after the spell collapsed, and I couldn’t hear them while the barrier was up, only see a glimpse of them.”
The van door slid open with a quiet hiss, cutting off Hardy’s next question. Sergeant Hanna stood there; her wild blond curls a furious silhouette against the dying daylight. That fast we’d lost the entire day to chaos, again. Her gaze swept over me, taking in my soot-streaked, slumped form.
“Let me get this straight,” she began, her voice deceptively calm. “I put you on mandatory leave with one job:Find a teacher. Do not touch any magic. And I find you here, ground zero for a ritual explosion that reeks of a cult’s Tuesday night special. Care to explain how you interpreted my orders asgo be a walking disaster magnet?”
“In our defense,” Angel cut in smoothly, “we were teacher shopping. We’d just lined up a potential mentor across the Veil when the building tried to turn itself inside out. We were the closest units with SED badges. Were we supposed to ignore the screaming and go get a smoothie?”
“A smoothie sounds fantastic right now,” I mumbled, rubbing my temple. “But yeah, therun toward the dangerinstinct is kind of baked into the job description. Our bad.”
Hanna’s eyes narrowed. “A mentor. You’d better not mean some back-alley practitioner who trades in cursed artifacts.”
“He’s a respected bookseller,” Angel said, the picture of innocence. “Very knowledgeable.”
“Great Google reviews,” I added.
“I’m thrilled your playdate was so productive,” Hanna deadpanned, her focus returning to me. “Which is why you’re going back into that apartment. I want you to walk it. See if Bowman’s ghost is still hanging around. If he is, I want to know what he has to say for himself.”
The command hung in the air, a test and a punishment wrapped in one.
Angel’s hand tightened on my shoulder. “Sarge, he’s barely conscious.”
“With all due respect,” Hardy cut in, his voice sharp with frustration. “This is a conflict of interest. Bowman was the prime suspect in his assault.” He jabbed a finger in my direction. “Putting the victim in the room to interview his attacker—evena spectral one—isn’t just outside procedure, it’s asking for a mistrial. You must have another SV.”
“We have one other SV on the payroll, and he’s already checked the scene,” Hanna countered, her gaze boring into me. “He got nothing. And a crime scene covered in cult sigils means the top brass will be crawling up my ass by morning. I need answers, before they decide my team is a liability.”
The unspoken threat was clear.The military is coming for you if you don’t keep your head down. Fix it.
“There were no ghosts in there when I passed out,” I said, clinging to the one verifiable truth I could offer.
“And why did you pass out?” Hanna pressed; her voice dangerously calm. “When you weren’t supposed to be practicing magic at all?”
