8. Cassian
CASSIAN
We take the evidence back to my apartment.
The day is pale and gray, the kind of weather that makes Blackthorn Bay feel like a snow globe you wish you could crawl inside.
Liza is still on edge, but less so now that we're not surrounded by other people's opinions.
"Do you want me here," I ask, pouring her a mug of coffee, "or would you rather have the run of your own place?"
She glances toward the tulip in its new vase and sighs.
"Stay."
The word comes out before she can soften it.
A second later, she adds, "At least until you're bored out of your skull."
"Doubtful."
I settle at the kitchen table, lining up the coins for another look.
Liza disappears into her bedroom, probably trying to reset her nerves.
A minute later, Gomez appears.
His tail swishes lazily as he hops onto the table and sniffs each coin in turn.
Then he freezes, and the fur along his spine lifts.
Slowly, he turns toward the empty corner of the room, and hisses.
Every muscle in my body locks. My hand goes instinctively to my sidearm. Pointless, if you know anything about magic. But you don't undo a lifetime of training in an afternoon.
Liza appears beside me.
"What is it?"
"He's watching something."
I crouch, trying to see the room from cat height. Nothing. No movement. No scent, or magical residue. Just an empty corner. But Gomez remains fixed on it, tail flicking like a metronome.
"I've never seen him hiss at thin air," Liza says quietly.
The fear in her voice is gone.
What's left sounds a lot like curiosity.
I follow the cat's gaze across the baseboard.
That's when I see it. A tiny imperfection in the paint. Not a scratch or a scuff. A raised edge no bigger than my thumbnail.
I kneel and carefully pry at it. The paint flakes away, and something metallic glints beneath.
"Well," I mutter.
Liza crouches beside me. "What is it?"
I work it loose. A crescent-shaped piece of copper slides free from the wall. Very old copper. Its surface is etched with a spiral design worn soft by time. Something about it feels familiar. Not dangerous. Just old.
Older than the building. Older than the town, maybe.
Liza leans closer until her shoulder brushes mine. "Could that be how they're getting in?"
"Possibly."
I bag it with the rest of the evidence. Then I look back toward the corner. Gomez is still staring. Still watching and waiting.
The room feels different now. Not threatening. Occupied. Like walking into a conversation that stopped the second you entered.
Beside me, Liza goes still.
She feels it too.
"What?" she asks.
I scan the apartment again. The walls. The ceiling. The windows. Nothing. And yet every instinct I have says we're no longer chasing footprints. We're chasing someone. Or something.
Gomez hisses again. The sound cuts through the silence. This time he's staring directly at the hallway. At empty air.
I rise slowly. "Liza."
Her voice drops."What?"
I don't take my eyes off the hallway. "I think we're finally looking in the right direction."