The game had changed. And tomorrow morning, I had to be ready to play it.
TWELVE
Selene
The extra night of rest didn’t fix me, but it put the pieces back in the right order.
I woke up in my own bed, the stasis of the flat heavy around me. My muscles rusted wire, and my head still carried a dull, measured ache, but the vertigo was gone. The scar on my shoulder was dormant, a quiet knot of fused tissue rather than a burning brand.
I spent longer than usual in the mirror. I layered concealer over the bruises under my eyes, checked the range of motion in my left arm—stiff, but functional—and swallowed two painkillers dry. I pulled on a fresh shirt and my tailored blazer. It was armour. If I was going to walk back into the MCIU, I had to look like a detective, not a patient who had just discharged herself.
The drive to the station was a slow crawl through the morning drizzle. Being behind the wheel of my own car—engine purring, the smell of old leather—gave me a sense of control I hadn’t felt in days. The box of evidence from Mandy Thorne was safe under my floorboards. Now I just needed the badge to use it.
Iparked in my usual spot. The walk to the lift was longer than usual, my body protesting the damp air, but I kept my spine straight.
The bullpen was chaotic as always—phones ringing, uniformed officers moving in a tide of navy blue. But as I walked in, the noise dipped. Heads turned. Eyes lingered on me, then darted away.
I ignored them, heading straight for the coffee machine. Orin intercepted me before I could reach it. He looked wrecked, his tie askew, ink staining his fingers.
“You’re actually here,” he breathed, glancing around. “And you’re upright.”
“I told you I was fine.” I kept my voice low. “What’s the situation?”
“Forget the coffee. Hale is on the warpath.” Orin leaned in, lowering his voice further. “The ACD sent a delegation this morning. Suits. High-level. They spent an hour tearing strips off him before they finally left. Hale wants to see you. The second you walked in.”
“Good,” I said, a cold resolve hardening in my chest. “I have things to tell him.”
The Chief’s office was a fishbowl overlooking the bullpen, but the blinds were drawn tight—never a good sign. I knocked once and entered.
Hale sat behind his desk, surrounded by files. He looked aged, the deep lines around his mouth etched in stone. He didn’t look up as I entered.
“You discharged yourself,” he said flatly. “Against medical advice. You have a partner in a coma with a shattered spine, and you’re skipping out on recovery.”
“I’m fit for duty, sir.”
“You’re barely standing.” He looked up, his eyes hard. “I should suspend you pending a full psych evaluation. Do you have any idea the heat I’m taking? We have a magical anomaly in the Lows, a missing suspect, and an officer down.”
“It was a targeted attack, Marcus,” I said, stepping forward, my voice low and urgent. “We found the murderer. The one who killedthe Calysteri victim was a young Umbrakynn man, and he was right there in the alley.”
Hale’s expression didn’t change. “The report says you and Dane were found alone. No suspect. No other prints.”
“Because someone cleaned the scene,” I pressed, slamming my hand on the desk. “I fought him, Marcus. And I’ve never seen anything like it. His magic was twisted—like it wasn’t his. He was augmented and carrying a strength that clearly belonged to something else. Someone else.”
I took a breath, forcing the image of the glowing veins back into my mind.
“And he had the same sigil burned into his neck as the recent victims.”
Hale stared at me. For a second, I saw a trace of belief—or maybe fear—behind his eyes. But then the mask slammed back down.
“There is no body, Detective. There is no evidence of a third party. The ACD’s official report states that you and Dane triggered a dormant mana-pocket. An industrial accident.”
A mana-pocket. The magical equivalent of a gas leak—old, unstable energy pooling in the sewers until a spark sets it off. It was the standard catch-all excuse for unexplainable damage in the Lows. Convenient. Boring. And completely impossible to disprove without access to the site.
“That’s a lie,” I spat. “And you know it.”
“It’s the official findings,” Hale snapped, his voice rising. “And right now, the official findings are the only thing keeping this department from being dissolved and absorbed by the Council.”
He sighed, rubbing his temples. The fight seemed to drain out of him.
