Chapter 1 #3
Lucinda sat at the table as if it belonged to her. Tall, blond, blue-eyed, wearing some tight dressy outfit that probably cost more than my monthly rent. Even in emergency lighting, she managed to look as if she’d dressed specifically to sneer.
Caton stood behind her, suit immaculate, dark-blond hair neat, expression already carved into irritation. His facial twitch flickered near his eye, the tell that his patience had left the building.
Carnell lounged on one side of the table as if he were hosting a party instead of a meeting. Blond and brown hair, sea-green eyes, dress pants and an open-collar shirt that made him look indecently comfortable. The air around him carried that earthy cedar scent that didn’t belong indoors.
Across from him, Hunter stood like a wall. Tall, broad, flannel over a T-shirt, work boots planted wide. His gray eyes cut toward me as if he’d already decided I was the problem.
Eve stood near Hunter, long skirt brushing the marble floor, amethyst necklace catching the torchlight. She looked calm, but there was power tucked behind her eyes. The kind of power that could turn this entire room into ash if she snapped.
Faith and I reached the edge of the dais, and every head turned.
Lucinda’s gaze landed on me like a weight.
“Well,” she said, voice sharp enough to slice skin. “Our resident outcast finally arrives.”
Faith’s hand tightened on my elbow, and I knew she was one comment away from starting a fight in the council chambers, which would absolutely go over well.
I pulled free and stepped forward before Faith could speak.
Lucinda leaned forward, her sneer deepening. “What caused this?”
The question hit like a punch because it wasn’t really a question.
It was an accusation.
My throat tightened. For a split second, I was back in Salem, standing in a circle of witches who looked at me like I was a mistake that had infiltrated their ranks.
I forced the memory down.
“I have no idea,” I said, keeping my voice even. “I was asleep until I heard the screaming.”
Caton’s twitch jumped again, as if my words annoyed him by existing.
Lucinda’s eyes narrowed. “Convenient.”
I ignored her and looked at the magic board instead. The flares pulsed in clusters. Too many. Too fast.
“This isn’t random,” I said. “Something is directing them.”
Hunter’s lips curled. “And you’d know.”
Eve’s gaze flicked to him, warning. Hunter didn’t back down, but he did shut his mouth.
I swallowed and met Lucinda’s stare.
“It’s necromancy,” I said.
Silence slammed into the room. Even Carnell stopped looking amused.
Lucinda’s expression darkened as if she’d been waiting for me to say it. “So you admit it.”
I let out a short, humorless breath. “I admit what I saw. One undead in the street, moving like a puppet. I shoved it with magic and it barely reacted. There was a pull on it. A thread.”
Nishi’s head tilted, her eyes unfocusing for a split second as if she were seeing something beyond the room. She could see auras. She could see what we were before we spoke.
“I don’t see active spellwork on her,” Nish said quietly, still twisting her ring. “Her aura isn’t flaring.”
Lucinda snapped her gaze to Nishi as if she didn’t appreciate being contradicted.
Carnell chuckled, low and lazy. “That is comforting, isn’t it, Lucinda?”
Lucinda glared. “This is not a joke.”
“I rarely joke,” Carnell said, and the lie was so obvious it almost made me dizzy.
I forced myself to keep going, because if I stopped talking, Lucinda would fill the silence with blame.
“I didn’t sense the casting,” I said. “And that bothers me. It should have left residue. It should have felt like something.”
Caton’s eyes narrowed. “So you missed it.”
“I was asleep,” I snapped, irritation cracking through. “And I took a tincture because I haven’t been sleeping lately. It dulled my senses. If you want to criticize my insomnia schedule, get in line.”
Lucinda’s mouth tightened. “Then what good are you?”
The words landed hard.
Before I could respond, Faith stepped forward, voice flat and dangerous. “Careful, Lucinda. You called her here.”
Lucinda’s gaze flicked to Faith, and for a moment she looked like she wanted to sneer harder, but something in Faith’s expression stopped her.
Hunter rumbled, “Enough. If it’s necromancy, we need the source.”
All eyes went back to me.
I hated that. I hated being the point on the map everyone stared at when things got ugly.
I lifted my chin anyway.
“I don’t know who did it,” I said, slow and clear. “But whatever is animating those bodies doesn’t feel like normal necromancy. It feels… covered. Masked. Like someone is hiding their fingerprints.”
Lucinda’s voice cut through the room again, colder now. “And you expect us to believe you didn’t do it.”
I stared at her, pulse steadying into something dangerous.
“I expect you to believe what makes sense,” I said. “If I wanted to raise the dead, Lucinda, I wouldn’t start in the middle of town where everyone could see it. I’d start somewhere quiet. Somewhere no one would notice until it was too late.”
The silence that followed was worse than shouting.
Because I saw it in Lucinda’s eyes.
She believed it made sense.
She just didn’t like where that line of thinking led.