Chapter 10- Taz
“I CALL THIS debrief to order.” Chief Tuttle stands at the podium in the Union meeting room, and everyone quiets down.
I’m sitting close to the front, with Girish to my left.
Across from me are Max, Necia, Cleo, and Luther to my diagonal.
It’s only been three weeks since we were last here, but it seems like a lifetime ago.
“I’d like to go over the recent events in Louisiana as well as the intel we’ve received since then on this case about the Cult of the Unheard. ”
When I glance at Luther, he’s already studying me and quickly shoots his gaze at the chief.
He and I haven’t spoken since last week, our most dangerous interaction yet, but also, the night of the infamous kiss.
After brushing ourselves off, Necia and Max arrived with the suspect immobilized, but fortunately alive.
Luther explained to them about the old woman’s hex, me almost drowning, and the butterflies that dissipated once we all got together.
And we don’t mention that―perfect, wonderful, passionate―kiss. It’s a need-to-know basis, after all.
But has he told Necia? They are besties. When I look at his dad and the rest of the High Council seated next to him, my hormones quell. Now is not the time to interpret whether or not Luther wants to kiss me again.
The way he keeps studying me, then quickly looking away, could mean he wants me, or wants nothing to do with me.
“We were able to capture one illicit magic user linked with the dark magic activity,” Chief Tuttle says.
He puts up the photo via slideshow and talks about the bloke’s demographics.
He’s an unremarkable poor man who was never part of the Union.
Yet, his spellcasting was able to go toe-to-toe with two agents of SPELL.
He’s likely responsible for weaponizing that poor woman who died launching black venom at me.
“And he’s linked with the group that was able to summon a monster from the Other Side?” Councilman O’Toole asks.
“Yes. He is part of the larger network of the Cult of the Unheard,” the chief replies.
“And what are their goals and intentions?” Councilman Westbrook asks. “Seeing as they are adept at dangerous hexes.”
“That’s one key issue. Their memories have been clouded, leading to dead ends in our interrogations.
We only have fragmented clues.” The chief clicks, and the slideshow shows photos of several people, presumably Americans, alongside the suspect.
“Our background checks on everyone connected to the cult have shown virtually no magic use until recently. As we all know, wizards and witches typically reveal their abilities during puberty. Yet these suspects are all between the ages of twenty-five and fifty-five.”
“So, they’re late bloomers?” Councilman Westbrook asks.
“No. Our interrogations delved into his memories and revealed that they were given temporary arcana. We suspect it’s from the use of this relic.
” The chief clicks again, and we gaze at a new image, one of a Renaissance-era tapestry.
The sewn-in image illustrates a man wearing a golden gauntlet, and demonic images are flying around him.
“They’re…infusing mortals with wild magic?” Councilman O’Toole asks, taking the words right out of my mouth. It’s unheard of to give mortals arcana, AKA magic in its wildest, unfiltered form.
“That is what we suspect. Girish?”
Girish stands at the podium. “As you all know, interrogation spells require a great deal of effort and magic, and still can yield muddled memories as a result. From what we could piece together, and based on Max’s memories, the recurring theme kept appearing in the suspect’s mind, where he was receiving magical gifts from the image on the screen.
It’s known as ‘Le gantelet des ténèbres.’ The gauntlet of darkness.
Wizard historians have detailed how dangerous the gauntlet is, but not specifically how it works, or where it is now. ”
A shiver goes down my spine as I gaze upon the old artwork on the screen.
The chief nods and retakes the podium. “Of course, it’s dangerous to infuse arcana into anyone, especially mortals.
The suspect from Louisiana is barely able to talk after using all that arcana.
This gauntlet seems to be the key to the cult’s plans.
We will be working closely to secure the gauntlet and minimize all cultist activity. ”
“We’re working to neutralize them?” Councilman Westbrook asks.
“Our goal is to do as little harm as possible, but they are a threat to magical and nonmagical folk. We wish to shut down this Cult of the Unheard before they harm anyone else, including themselves.” Images of the old woman oozing darkness make me grimace.
“This is what we do in Sorcery Protection and Enforcement.”
Chief Tuttle goes over a few more details before adjourning the meeting. I take my time getting up from the table, awkwardly stretching and watching Luther from the corner of my eye. He speaks to his dad, but after a few moments, everyone files out except him, Necia, and Girish.
“Good work up there,” I say to Girish.
He pushes up his glasses. “Chief and Max did all the interrogating. I mostly just used the internet to find the relic, and like, took notes.”
I want to ask him more about his premonition from the other day, but now doesn’t seem to be a good time. “Still, you’re a valued member of this team, Gear.” I touch his shoulder, and he smiles.
“I do enjoy relic research. But maybe with more fun history facts, and less violent warlocks.”
We share a chuckle as we approach Necia and Luther. “Well, all in a day’s work here at SPELL, right?” Necia says.
I smile at her and nod at Luther. “I’m just glad we’re getting answers.”
“And that we’re all safe,” Luther adds. My smile wavers; the relief on his face after he pulled me out of the inky darkness is a memory I won’t soon forget. He was so distraught that he kissed me. Was that all it was, despair and relief, no real attraction?
Why am I back to being a flustered teenager when it comes to my former frenemy?
“I’m just excited to be off for a couple of days,” Necia says. “A warm bath is calling my name. If cultists start attacking, do not hit me up.” She points at Girish and we all laugh.
“I was going to mention that the chief wants some field agents to check out a lead,” Girish remarks. “Cleo managed to find a string of shops where the gauntlet may be. Securing that…”
“Would be extremely beneficial. We could shut down the cult sooner rather than later,” Luther says.
“Hey, don’t look at me to do some digging, I’m taking the next few days off and kicking my feet up.” Necia lifts up her hands.
“It’s in Paris, France,” Girish says.
“Really?” Necia looks between Luther and me, and I suddenly feel exposed. Why is she wearing a look of mischief? “Why don’t you go with Luther, Taz?”
“What?” Luther and I say at the same time.
“It’s just a casual recon mission,” she says, looking away.
“I’m sure Max or Girish can come with me,” Luther says. His immediate dismissal is hurtful, for sure, but the flustered look on his face has me intrigued.
“Max is swamped,” Necia says.
“And you really don’t want me in the field,” Girish points out. “I might get a weird vision, and, you know…I’m better off on the phone.”
The three of them study me, and it’s suddenly so quiet in this boardroom. My heart pounds in my chest, and I shove my shaking hands into my trouser pockets. Meanwhile, Luther’s dark eyes seem to both beg me to say yes and no all at once.
Let’s go for the sexier answer, shall we?
“I think it’s a great idea.” I grin, and Luther’s smile falls. “Alright then, Agents, when do we head out?”
Armed with intel, magic, and more than a few euros, Luther and I walk through the streets of Paris.
We’re both in our trench coats and business attire, with leather boots on the stony streets.
No one in the bustling city filled with tourists pays any mind to the White guy and the Black guy walking with purpose.
I consider it good fortune that intel narrowed our target location to near the Eiffel Tower.
Such a romantic spot in the evening twilight…
This moment among the crowds is the perfect opportunity to subtly check Luther out.
Now that we’ve kissed and he’s confirmed on some level that he’s into me, I can’t help seeing him in a different light.
Sure, I’ve always thought he was handsome, but I was a hormonal teenager.
I certainly didn’t have the confidence to acknowledge how sexy I thought he was.
He was my schooltime foe, and I didn’t want to reveal how gay I was back then.
Was all that teasing actually just subconscious flirting?
He glances at me, and I grin. “What’s up?” he asks.
“Nothing. Just thinking about…” How your caramel-colored eyes are filled with warmth and soul. “Paris.”
“It’s a busy city,” he replies.
“You ever been?”
“No, actually.”
“Oh?” I gaze at the Eiffel Tower behind him in the distance. “It’s the city of love, you know. All this romance…”
It’s unclear, but his subsequent smile seems half-uncomfortable and half-flattered.
“You, uh…never struck me as the romantic type.”
“There’s a lot you may not have known about me.” I shrug, and the gravity between us grows stronger. “I have a couple of campy romance novels in my shop, so I’ve read my share of the genre.”
“Really? That’s right, I heard you own a bookshop.”
“Yup. It’s where I sell my hex-breaking guides.”
He scratches his neck. “Well, I’m glad you’re here. To uh, break any hexes that might…occur.”
The man is rattled, so I decide to push it further. “Is that the only reason you’re glad I’m here. With you. In the city of looove?” I say, teasingly extending that last syllable.