Chapter 15
Fifteen
Veda wants to sleep, but a parade of colors dances behind her shut eyes.
Eventually, she gives up and ventures outside, where the air carries a chill uncommon for this time of year.
Trees rustle in the soft breeze. She has the urge to both walk away and plant roots.
But deep down, she knows the issue of her uncertainty stems from something her pride hasn’t allowed her to acknowledge.
Old habits don’t die—they hibernate until the next relevant moment.
In the wake of her righteous indignation, the truth whispers that she’s done something wrong. Veda sits with her guilt as daybreak’s brilliant rays bleed streaks of color through the forest. It’s Saturday, so there’s no time to wallow.
Inside, the shower burns her cursed scars; the salve doesn’t soothe as well as usual. After dressing, she sighs at her hair. Too tired to bother with it, she brushes it back into a bun, puts on her shoes, and makes the walk to Weston Academy.
The grounds are empty, save a few employees scattered about to tend to the animals. Veda takes refuge in the greenhouse, counting the buds on the bare cherry tree and pruning what she can reach. Being interrupted is normal, but the person who intrudes is not who she expects.
Khadijah is dressed for a day out in a black romper and flip-flops, gold jewelry, her white braids pulled back into a ponytail. “Peter told me about what happened last night. Do you want to talk about it?”
“No. I said a lot. Some of it I meant, some I didn’t.” Veda’s close to erupting from her own frustration. “I don’t know. I felt helpless. Even when Peter came, I couldn’t help Antaris. I just held him until he fell asleep.”
After gesturing for Veda to follow, Khadijah glares daggers until she complies. They leave the warm greenhouse and step into the sunlight. It’s warm for the long-sleeved shirt and jeans Veda’s wearing, but she’ll survive.
They’re halfway to the school when Khadijah says, “I saw Hiram when he realized how late he was.”
Veda stops mid-step. “What?”
“Ruth got arrested on bullshit charges. Uncle Clinton called me to meet him at the FCD, and when I got there, he said she was in there with her attorney. I didn’t know who it was until Hiram walked out with her.
He got her released without charges being filed, and the enforcers even apologized, all thanks to an arrogant attorney who gathered enough evidence to prove her innocence.
” Khadijah sighs. “Trust me, I hate defending him, but he was late because he was helping right an injustice.”
“He stopped spectating,” Veda mutters to herself.
“What?”
“I told him good men didn’t spectate, and the one time he didn’t—” Veda wrings her hands, still shocked. “I thought I’d made a mistake before, but now . . . Now I know I did, and I’m not sure I can fix it.”
Khadijah is about to speak when her phone rings. She takes the call while Veda paces. When she disconnects, she lays a sympathetic hand on her shoulder. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”
“To go where?”
“Does it matter?”
A call from Clinton, asking Khadijah to stop by the FCD and pick up Ruth’s belongings, determines their destination.
They enter the building through different lines; Veda’s cursory glance and amulet check by security are nothing compared to the intrusive security measures Khadijah endures.
When the guard makes a derogatory comment, Veda steps forward, but Khadijah shakes her head.
Veda gives the guard a nasty look before following her friend.
Veda decides to sit in the waiting area, feeling uncomfortable as is. She’s torn between locking eyes with every person who passes and skimming through a year-old magazine when her phone rings.
“Are you busy right now?” Gabriel asks as soon as she picks up.
“I’m actually in the waiting area of the FCD, what’s going on?”
“Seriously? I thought you never—”
“It’s a long story,” Veda says.
“We can talk about that later. For now, can you come up to the fourth floor? I’ll meet you at the elevator. There are a few things I need to catch you up on.”
“Khadijah is here with me. Can she come, too?”
“Sure thing. I’ll call security and give them your names. Just register your Imprint.”
It takes thirty minutes before Khadijah returns carrying a brown bag and wearing Ruth’s hat, irritation etched on her face.
Veda tells her about the detour as they walk to the security desk together.
They give Khadijah a hard time with clearance to the fourth floor, but a second call from Gabriel makes it happen.
The elevator ride is quiet, tense, and Khadijah is understandably grouchy.
Classical music filters from the speakers, bringing back memories that sour Veda’s mood.
She hasn’t listened to this kind of music in years, but the melody lives in her head, a reminder from that night. Khadijah sneaks worried glances.
True to his word, Gabriel meets them outside the elevator. “Sorry about security,” he says. “What brings you all here on a Saturday?”
“Khadijah came to pick up Ruth’s belongings.”
“Ah, yeah.” Gabriel whistles low. “I heard about the hell Hiram raised yesterday. I got a call about it, but by the time I got here, he was already gone.”
He leads the way to the investigators’ office, mentioning he’s putting in a few hours while August is bug-hunting with Francisco’s little cousins.
Artificial lights make the office look clinical.
The silence sterilizes the atmosphere. There’s a woman sitting at her desk, fiddling with the lavender plant while reading through papers.
She looks up when the door shuts behind them.
Petite with blond hair and innocuous eyes, her friendly smile feels familiar.
“Oh, sorry, Veda, Khadijah. Meet our overworked secretary, Seren Landry.”
Veda gives her a cursory glance, still unable to recall where she’s seen her before, but finds nothing odd except the flush that starts at her neck and disappears into her blond hair. Gabriel follows her line of sight and flashes a grin.
“Hey there. It’s nice to finally meet ya, Khadijah.”
“Do I know you?”
“It’s hard to forget you.” At her raised brow, Seren continues. “You’ve spent a lot of time in holdin’. Seems the enforcers have it out for ya, thanks to your uncle.”
“You’re not wrong.”
Seren’s eyes slide to Veda, and she tilts her head. “Veda, is it? You look familiar.”
“I was just thinking the same thing.”
“I’ve traveled a lot, basically since I quit medical school about seven years ago.”
Everything slots into place. That Southern drawl is memorable. “Did you happen to go to the Redwood Institute of Mage Medicine at Riverty University?”
“Yeah, I did. Oh! Veda, as in Veda Thorne, right?”
Gabriel looks back and forth between them. “You know each other?”
“She was in my study group for licensing. We both were under . . .” Seren trails off, all the air exiting the room.
Veda knows why. Healer Oliver Lawson.
Seren is visibly uncomfortable. “Well, it was a mess. I left after what happened and . . . and you went missing.”
Gabriel pauses. “Wait, Seren, you studied with Lawson? How did this never come up?”
Seren shrugs. “I guess I just never thought about it. It was another life. Once I dropped out, I didn’t look back.”
“Why did you drop out?” Veda asks, shocked. “You were passionate about precognition. You were easily the best in the group. I figured you had a future in the specialty.”
“I was, but things changed.” Manicured fingers fiddle with her blue-jay pendant. “The rumors about you were wild. What happened?”
“It’s a long story.”
“I’ve got time.” She smiles sheepishly at Gabriel. “Well, I will after we finish up, if ya wanna catch up.”
Veda considers it. “I’ve got some things to do. Maybe another time.”
“Okay, well, you know where I work.” She opens her hands, looking around the lobby. “Just drop by and give security my name. They’ll send you up. If I’m not here, I’m out causin’ problems,” she jokes with a cheeky grin.
“I’ll remember that,” Veda says. “It’s nice to see you again, Seren.” And she means it. The odd clash of past and present isn’t as horrific as she’s imagined on and off over the years.
Gabriel rocks back on his heels. “Seren is doing audits of our cases after the latest breach, but I called you here to catch you up. Let’s go back to my office.”
“Where’s Francisco?” Khadijah asks.
“Making a hundred elotes to bring to his brother’s birthday party tomorrow, so with August out terrorizing nature, I’m working on a few things while Seren does these case audits.”
“He never stops workin’.” Seren rolls her eyes. “I tell him all the time to take a break. Leave things to me. Hardheaded as ever.”
“I’m going to watch the game later. Don’t worry, I won’t burn myself out.” Gabriel gestures to Veda and Khadijah. “Let’s keep them—”
“Off the record? Sure thing.” Seren smiles. “I’m going to head out soon. I’ll see y’all around.”
Gabriel leads the way to his office and offers Khadijah a seat at Francisco’s empty desk.
There are pictures strewn across his desk.
They look like segments of text in various books.
A stack of files and a notebook off to the side catch Veda’s eye.
Nonsensical words in all caps fill the top line, and four rows of words are crossed out right underneath.
She’s caught trying to read it upside down.
“Hiram got a letter last month, and we can’t figure out what it is. I tried the same sequence as yours, but no luck.”
“May I?” Veda asks.
Gabriel hands her the notebook. “Knock yourself out. In fact, take it with you, if you want, but that’s not what I brought you here for.”
He updates them on everything: Everett; the investigation into the Botanist’s blocked Imprint; the hexed texts they asked Hiram to assist with unscrambling; what he’s learned about a ritual called Sight Unseen; and the name Ariadne Byers, which neither of them recognizes.
“I’d look her up myself, but our access was temporarily restricted after the blocked-Imprint incident.” Gabriel shrugs. “Our hands are tied right now. I’d hoped one of you might recognize something so we can move forward.”
“Actually, there is something I’ve been thinking about. When Hiram looked at my file”—Veda grimaces—“he was hyperfixated on how the Botanist got into my apartment. I want to see the file to focus on what he’s talking about. Maybe it’ll jog my memory.”
Gabriel doesn’t hesitate, pulling one file from the stack on his desk.
When he places it in front of her, Veda reads her statement line by line, the details, spells cast, and unredacted information.
She hunts for familiarity . . . and finds none.
Finally, Veda looks through the pictures, stopping at the photo Hiram must’ve looked at.
The door was blown off, but it’s strange seeing it in the light when that night was nothing but darkness.
The scorched walls remind her of Lucinda’s house.
She shudders at the memory, trying to distract herself from thinking about it by grabbing the next folder.
It’s too late to stop.
She’s back at the hospital. Finding Healer Lawson on the ground, bleeding profusely.
Veda flips to her statement and pauses, recoiling.
“This isn’t my statement—I mean, it is, but it’s wrong.
Large man. Hispanic features. Deep voice.
None of this is . . . I didn’t say that.
It’s not even true. They were . . .” Veda squeezes her eyes shut.
“They weren’t large. Their face was a kaleidoscope of changing features that never settled on one.
Their voice was altered in a way I can’t describe, and Healer Lawson actually spoke to me.
He said they didn’t know what was coming. ”
“Who spoke? And who are they?”
Veda flinches at the memory, rubbing her hands.
She can see the blood. “It took too long for anyone to get there, just me and—and a body for almost an hour, and the first thing the investigator said to me was . . .” You did what you could.
Curses are unnatural for a reason. You can’t save them all.
Veda opens her eyes, scrubbing a hand over her face.
“None of that is in my statement. Who changed it?”
Gabriel stares at the file before his jaw sets, hand moving to hover over the page. He shuts his eyes and murmurs, “Ostendo.”
The paper glows, hissing and screaming. Veda sits back hard, heart pounding, hands gripping the chair as the file tries to rip itself apart. “What in the hell are you—”
“Doing?” he shouts over the high-pitched scream as the file burns red hot, rising off the table. The edges smoke black, then white. “Oh, just something that will not only alert my superiors but might verge on illegal. Hypothetically speaking, do you think Hiram will represent me if I get arrested?”
Gabriel flashes a nervous smile as the file lands back on the table.
Then he sobers, on alert. “The Imprints of the person who wrote up this file, submitted it, and reviewed it are concealed by law. The only people allowed to reveal their names are those with the rank of superior or higher. I’m just an investigator, so yeah, illegal. ”
“Why would you—”
“Because whoever altered your file worked for the FCD at the time this happened, and the only reason they would change your statement is—”
“To conceal the truth,” Veda interrupts. “I thought if I looked, I could jog my memory, but all I remember is the power. I’m not Sensitive, but I swore I felt it. Wild. Out of control.”
“Mages and the Unseen don’t have access to that kind of magic, and Seers are taught control from the moment we present,” Khadijah says. “I don’t know—”
“It’s working,” Gabriel says.
They wait for one minute. Then two. Veda’s vision blurs from staring so hard until Khadijah’s hand grips her shoulder, grounding her. Finally, a golden signature appears on the corner of the page.
They all lean forward to read the name, but it’s all too familiar.
“Blocked.”
Gabriel is smiling.
Veda swears. “Why are you so happy? We still don’t have a name.”
“No, but we’ve been blocked too many times.” Gabriel nearly vaults the table to get back into his seat. “They’re all connected.”
“What are you going to do?” Khadijah asks.
“Force my commander’s hand for resources and stay out of jail.”
“How exactly . . .”
Gabriel looks at Veda. “I think the Botanist and the person who wrote this are one and the same.”