Chapter 32 #2
“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 as go 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, the run toward the danger instinct 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—even a 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?”
All eyes in the van were on me.
“The place tried to eat his soul,” Angel explained.
“The energy drain,” I said, gesturing weakly toward the building.
“That ritual was like a vacuum. A magical black hole. I felt it sucking the life out of everything, including me. That’s why we tried to clear everyone out.
I think getting all the living people away from it is what finally made it collapse. ”
It was a gamble, describing the death magic’s sensation but applying it to the wrong event. Agent Smart gave a slow nod, smelling the visceral truth of my exhaustion.
Angel seized the opening. “He’s in no state to be exposed to that residue again. Sending him back in could trigger another collapse. Can you send in a practitioner to nullify it first? I’m worried whatever that ritual did, it’s left a wound in the area.”
“Woodward is already upstairs reviewing the scene, but I want Holt to walk it,” Hanna stated, her decision final. “Tell me if the ghosts are there.”
“And if they are, how do we ensure credibility?” Hardy demanded with his gaze fixed on Hanna. “Anything he “hears” is just his word against the silence.”
The words landed like a physical blow. I’d thought we were friends, but he was treating me like a suspect. A bitter voice in my head admitted that if our roles were reversed, I’d be circling with the same professional suspicion. It didn’t make the sting any less sharp.
“We ensure credibility by having multiple agents witness the walk-through and by getting a statement before he sets foot in there,” Hanna countered, her tone leaving no room for debate. She looked at me. “Holt? Can you stand?”
It wasn’t a question. It was an order wrapped in a challenge.
With Angel’s steadying hand under my elbow, I pushed myself to my feet, the world tilting for a dizzying second before righting itself. “I can stand.”
The short walk from the van to the building’s entrance felt like a perp walk.
I could feel the weight of a dozen stares from Hardy’s conflicted gaze to the curious and wary looks of other SED agents securing the perimeter.
I was the necromancer, the variable, the walking contradiction who’d been at the center of the chaos.
Now, they were all waiting to see what the freak show would do next.
Angel stayed glued to my side, a silent, solid barrier against the scrutiny.
As we crossed the threshold back into the dim, ozone scented hallway, the feeling only intensified.
Every agent we passed seemed to pause, their conversations dying as we moved by.
They weren’t just watching a colleague; they were watching the mystery itself.
Up ahead, the door to Bowman’s apartment stood open, a dark maw waiting to swallow me whole. Again. Knowing he’d been the cop to pull me over, setting me up to nearly be killed, made my gut twist.
I didn’t want to talk to him. Or look at what Cassidy had done to him. Because the reality was, this sort of ritual was Cassidy’s work. Which meant Bowman had gotten on the wrong side of a shadow demon and his cult leader. And that was the last place I’d want to be.