Chapter One
This is the life.The house was blessedly silent. Ant cradled his coffee mug between both palms and savored the warm ceramic against his skin. Steam curled upward, carrying the rich scent of the dark roast Viktor had purchased from the specialty shop downtown - the one that ground the beans fresh every morning and who never added artificial flavoring. The kitchen table sat beneath the window, and morning sunlight slanted across the polished wood, illuminating dust motes that drifted in lazy spirals through the air.
Perfect.
Able’s heavy head rested on Ant’s thigh, the German shepherd’s warm weight relaxing him more effectively than any meditation technique the therapist at the Academy had ever suggested. Ant reached down and scratched behind Able’s ear, earning a contented huff.
“Viktor won’t be much longer,” Ant informed his dog, keeping his voice soft. “I know you would have preferred to accompany him when he goes running, but he left before I’d even gotten dressed, and I suspect he was in the mood to use his super speed. You would have been left behind within the first thirty seconds.”
Able’s tail thumped once against the floor.
“He promised to bring back breakfast.” Ant took another sip of coffee and glanced toward the back door, where the utility room’s glass panels revealed the carefully maintained garden beyond. The wards hummed at the edge of his awareness, a constant reassuring presence that kept the world’s chaos at bay. “He’ll probably get those breakfast sandwiches from the deli on Main. The ones with the egg and cheese and…”
The front door banged open. Ant didn’t flinch - he’d felt Bridget’s energy signature pass through the wards - but Able lifted his head and gave a perfunctory woof.
“Don’t start, puppy,” Bridget announced, her heels clicking sharply against the hardwood floor. “And that goes for you, too, Ant. I’m not in the mood.”
She swept into the kitchen with her usual hustle, her dark hair twisted into its usual immaculate bun, her tailored suit pressed within an inch of its life – navy this time, which Ant had come to learn meant Bridget was on a mission. On relaxing days, she went for suits in a pastel shade. The thick manila folder she had clutched in one hand radiated the distinctive magical residue of Justiciary documentation…probably the source of her upset.
Ant blinked at her. “I haven’t even said anything yet.”
“You were thinking something.”
“Obviously. I’m always thinking.” He put his coffee mug on the table. “The human brain doesn’t simply stop processing information unless the person in question is dead or in a coma, and I am neither.”
Bridget’s eye twitched, and her lips thinned. She dropped the folder onto the table with a decisive thunk, then crossed her arms and fixed him with the expression she usually reserved for their most frustrating clients. Ant had become immune to that look before he’d hit his teenage years.
“The Justiciary sent this over an hour ago,” she said flatly. “They want you on a case.”
“I assumed as much, given the folder and your agitation.” Ant nudged Able’s head gently off his lap and reached for the file. “You could’ve simply emailed the details.”
“I could have,” Bridget agreed, her voice turning suddenly syrupy-sweet in the way that meant she was absolutelyfuriousabout something. “But I wanted to see your face when you read it.”
Ant opened the folder. The first page was a standard Justiciary coversheet including a case number, the date of the incident, and the presiding investigator’s seal. He skimmed the preliminary details.
Victim: Ronald Finch, forensic accountant, age forty-two. Cause of death: severe blood loss consistent with vampire feeding. Location: Raven Estate, primary residence of Claudius Raven’s coven.
He flipped to the next page.
Time of death: approximately seventy-two hours prior to body discovery. Scene contamination: extensive. Magical interference: confirmed. Local authorities were unable to proceed due to jurisdictional complications and coven legal protections.
Ant frowned as he read the last sentence. He would assume that local authorities would have complete jurisdiction over a crime committed in their geographical area.
“They found the victim in a guest room in the estate,” Bridget said tersely, her arms still crossed. “He was drained completely dry – or as dry as a person can get after crossing paths with a greedy vampire. The coven is claiming they have no idea how it happened, and because of their legal status, the local police can’t touch them.”
Ant turned another page. The crime scene photographs were no better or worse than others he’d seen. The victim’s skin was pasty pale, his eyes vacant, and there were two telltale puncture marks on the right side of the throat. His brain cataloged the other details he could see, noting the position of the body,lividity patterns, and the way the victim’s fingers were still curled around a pen.
“I assume the Justiciary wants a scene reading,” he concluded. “They would need to know which member of the coven killed him.”
“Correction. The brief is to find out ifanymember of the coven killed him, or if someone else did it on their property and they’re covering it up.” Bridget leaned forward, bracing her palms on the table. “Ant, this is theRaven Estate. Do you have any idea how dangerous...?”
“I’m aware of the estate’s reputation.” Ant closed the folder and met his sister’s eyes. “It’s an old vampire coven, led by a highly paranoid leader, who insists the place stays heavily warded at all times. The estate is mentioned often in classes at the Academy because it operates under an extremely archaic legal structure that grants it significant autonomy from modern law enforcement.”
“And do you seriously think that sounds like a good case foryouto investigate?”
“I didn’t say it sounded good. I said I was aware of the limitations offered by where the incident happened.” He tapped the folder’s edge with one finger. “The Justiciary is either severely understaffed, or other mages have already attempted this investigation and been successfully bribed or coerced into abandoning it. Therefore, they’re sending me.”
Bridget’s jaw tightened. “Because you can’t be bribed.”
