Chapter 10
Katie was sitting in a chair that looked like royal butts had sat in it, judged queens, and ordered them beheaded. The magical screens cast weird shadows across the room.
Joell tapped the table, and a floating holographic map blinked into existence, covered in graffiti tags and glowing red symbols. Her black cat jumped up on her lap, and she patted it absently.
Katie leaned in. “Oh my god,” she said. “That’s Bushwick.”
Joell nodded. “You’ve seen these?” She zeroed in on some walls with graffiti.
“Yeah. Some of them match my dreams. Like, exactly. That symbol…” She pointed. “It appears on this crumbling wall behind a bodega near Myrtle Ave. But I only saw it after I dreamed it.”
Victoria frowned. “Dream bleed, and predictive pattern recognition? That’s new.”
Sahara leaned closer to her monitor. “What do the dreams feel like?”
“Like running uphill through syrup. Like something’s whispering just out of earshot. And everything’s gray, or so lightly colored it seems gray.”
The air in the room shifted. Not dramatically, but enough that Katie noticed. A shared breath. A collective stillness.
Magda broke it. “You dreamed the Gray before you saw it?”
Katie nodded. “I have heard that some people dream in black and white, but I’m not one of them. I usually have vivid color in my dreams, but not these.”
Joell exchanged a look with Victoria. “No one else has done that.”
Katie blinked. “Wait, seriously? I thought this was, like, an every-Tuesday kind of thing for you people.”
Victoria’s voice was cool. “You’re not supposed to see the Gray. Not unless it chooses you.”
Sahara added, “And certainly not dream about it first.”
A soft, magical chime pulsed through the table. Joell touched the surface and brought up another screen. This one displayed an old symbol Katie had seen before, a long time ago. But her body responded before her brain caught up. Her heart rate spiked, then chills and vertigo kicked in.
“Does this mean anything to you?” Joell asked.
“That,” she said, pointing. “That’s the first graffiti I ever dreamed.”
Joell looked up sharply. “You’re sure?”
Katie nodded. “Yeah. I thought it was just like… a weird tag, but now I’m thinking it’s more like a ritual summoning glyph rather than political commentary.”
Magda whistled low. “She’s not just a witness. She’s a conduit.”
Victoria’s voice came through the screen like a knife. “If the Gray is showing her that symbol, it’s trying to communicate.”
Sahara leaned back slowly. “Or mark her.”
Joell’s fingers tensed on the table. “Sahara, you have expertise with cursed objects, but those are ancient. I want modern perspectives.”
Katie crossed her arms. “Okay, rude. I’m not a cursed object.”
Joell stood. “I never said you were. You might be a target. And that means you're staying here, under L.A.W. protection, until we figure out why.”
Katie glanced around the opulent war room. “You know, if you wanted to kidnap me into a supernatural Airbnb, all you had to do was ask. This is much nicer than my crummy studio apartment.”
Joell tried to keep the tour efficient. Tried.
“This is the armory,” she said, pushing open a steel-reinforced door to reveal what looked like a very violent Etsy shop. “We keep enchanted weapons here. Don’t touch anything.”
Katie was already halfway to a dagger floating midair inside a crystal case. “This one’s humming. Is that normal?”
“No. Step away from it.”
They moved on.
The hallway curved into a sun-drenched greenhouse. “This is Magda’s botanical wing. Some of these plants bite.”
Katie was already poking a vine. “Which ones?”
Joell dragged her away. “Just assume all of them.”
Next stop: a grand library filled with floating ladders, glowing tomes, and an actual fireplace that whispered an unsettling bedtime story.
A book hovered in front of Katie. She tilted her head. “Did that book just call me ‘the vessel’?”
Joell didn’t answer. She just grabbed her wrist and picked up the pace.
“This is the training room. If you want to learn how to cast safely, this is where we’ll do it.”
Katie squinted at a scorch mark on the ceiling. “What happened there?”
“Brianna happened. She’s our newest member.”
“Ah! There’s a learning curve, I guess.”
“Most definitely.”
They walked past a suspiciously locked door with chains and six sigils. Katie pointed. “Is that where you keep the toaster?”
Joell cracked a smile. “No. That’s where we don’t keep mundane things. Moving on.”
Eventually, they ascended the impressive staircase she’d seen when she first arrived. Upstairs, a door opened, on its own, revealing a cozy suite with gothic mullioned windows with a forest view, and a plush pink robe hanging on the back of the door.
Joell ushered her in. “This is your room. It’s warded, secure, and stocked with calming tea. There’s the ensuite bathroom.” She pointed to a closed door. “Try not to break anything.”
Katie flopped dramatically onto the bed. “No promises.”
Joell crossed her arms. “Get some rest. We’ll start training tomorrow.”
Katie sat up. “Joell?”
The no-nonsense woman paused at the door.
“What happens if the Gray comes back tonight?”
“It won’t. Not here.”
And with that, she left Katie to her thoughts and the quiet hum of magic pulsing through the walls.
Rayna had expected a steakhouse. Or a military canteen. Or something involving tables that could be flipped over and used as shields.
She had not expected a bistro with fairy lights, a string quartet playing lo-fi covers, and Major Freaking Payne in a linen shirt and a pair of comfortable-looking slacks that suggested he, possibly, owned an iron.
She eyed him over the rim of her wine glass. “Does this place have a dress code, or are you just trying to impress me with your casual murder-vacation look?”
Payne smirked. “You like it?”
“Not sure. I respect the effort. There's a difference.” Rayna wore a little black dress that Victoria insisted would be right for just about anything.
He leaned back, relaxed in a way that made her suspicious. Men like him didn’t do relaxed. They did recon, detainment, and slow-motion walking away from explosions.
“So, what’s the occasion?” she asked. “Celebrating a mission? Recruiting me for some shadow op? Planning to seduce and ghost me before the check arrives?”
He tilted his head, amused. “Can’t I just take a beautiful woman to dinner?”
Rayna narrowed her eyes. “You can. But in your case, I imagine that usually ends with a hidden weapon and someone getting stabbed.”
“Well,” he said, “not tonight. Unless you’re planning something.”
She just smirked.
Their food arrived. Some kind of eggplant and risotto situation for her and a mound of steak for him.
Payne poured more wine into her glass. “No missions. No threats. Just me, you, and this overpriced zucchini.”
“It’s eggplant, and we can go Dutch.
“Not on your life. I invited you. I pay.”
She watched him for a beat longer, waiting for the other boot to drop.
Then she smiled, because honestly, she needed this.
A moment to breathe. To feel like the world wasn’t unraveling.
Even if she was having wine with a man who could break her neck with one hand and fold his laundry with the other.
“So, what do we talk about when we’re not saving the world or yelling at each other?”
Payne smiled. “We lie.”
Rayna raised a brow. “Ooh. First date rules. I like it.” She twirled her fork through the risotto. “Alright, then. I’ll go first.”
She leaned in conspiratorially. “I’m not really a redhead. I dye it to look less ‘mousy librarian’ and more ‘sassy lead in a romantic comedy, with curse words.’”
Payne chuckled. “That’s a lie?”
“Technically, it’s a half-truth. I don’t use dye. I use a spell to change my hair without roots growing out and with more dramatic flair. Your turn.”
He considered her, fingers drumming lightly on the table. “I have never lost a fight.”
Rayna narrowed her eyes. “That’s not a lie. That’s just testosterone.”
He shrugged. “Your move.”
“Fine.” She took a sip of wine. “I once tried to curse an ex by hexing his houseplants. But instead of withering, they thrived. Grew three feet every day. His monstera got him a sponsorship deal with a botanist influencer.”
Payne laughed. A real laugh, low and rough around the edges. “That’s actually impressive. Reverse hexing. You could weaponize that.”
She snorted. “Yeah, L.A.W. Special Division: Emotional Torment and Unexpected Foliage.”
Their plates slowly emptied. The music blurred into a cozy background hum, and the wine bottle drained lower than either of them had intended.
Rayna set down her glass. “Okay. Real one. No lies this time.”
Payne nodded. “Ladies first.”
She snorted. “That’s cute that you think I’m a lady. Okay, here goes… I’m pretty sure you’re still reporting what you learn about the L.A.W. to your superiors.”
He sighed. “I already vouched for you. Unfortunately, they had to do their own vetting. That’s what the magical battle in Brooklyn was about.”
“Yeah. I figured. Especially when Lioness drew a big, black SUV that screamed Government, and then it disappeared. They were probably just cloaked and watching.”
“Probably. I had nothing to do with that. Hey, let’s talk about something else. Not work. Something personal. Very, very personal.” He winked.
“Okaaay… I used to think love was just a chemical imbalance. Like, brain soup going bad. But lately, I’m starting to wonder if maybe it’s just another kind of magic. One we don’t get to control. I’ve seen it happen with fellow witches. Your turn.”
Payne didn’t speak right away. When he did, his voice was softer than she’d ever heard it.
“I used to think I had to be the weapon. Always. No rest. No choice. But lately…” He met her eyes. “I think I want to be more than what they trained me to be.”
Silence settled between them. Heavy, but not uncomfortable. The kind of silence that meant something.
Rayna reached across the table and squeezed his hand. Just enough to mark the philosophical moment without making it weird. “You know,” she said, “for a guy named Major Payne, you’re not as inconvenient and emotionally suppressed as I thought.”
He smirked. “I’ve been working on it. You’re a bad influence.”
She grinned. “That’s what they all say. Right before they fall in love or die dramatically.”
Payne raised his glass. “Here’s hoping for the first one.”
Rayna clinked her glass against his. “You better not die on me, Payne. I just started to like you.”
After dinner, the two of them decided to take a walk, despite the chilly spring evening.
The air was a bit crisp and sharp, but not enough to send them indoors. Rayna tugged her coat tighter as they strolled, her heels clicking lightly on the sidewalk. Brooklyn was quieter than usual, as if even the city was giving them a moment.
Payne walked beside her with his hands in his pockets, silent but not brooding. Just thoughtful. It was unnerving.
“I keep waiting for you to pull a grenade out of your coat,” she said. “Or at least start monologuing about state secrets.”
He smirked. “Disappointed?”
“A little. I was promised danger and brooding. Instead, I get linen shirts and emotional growth.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“It is. Very bad. I have a brand to maintain.”
They reached her brownstone, all red brick with an eighteenth-century door that looked solid and several inches thick. Payne paused at the bottom step while she climbed halfway up, keys dangling from her hand.
She turned and looked down at him. “Well. This is where the rom-com music swells.”
He tilted his head. “You gonna invite me in?”
Rayna considered. “Nah. I’ve read that script. Knowing us, it ends in blood or bad decisions.”
He nodded slowly. “Fair.”
“But…” She stepped down one stair, then another, until they were nearly eye to eye. “I am gonna kiss you, because I want to. And because I’m pretty sure it’ll mess with your whole tortured-soldier aesthetic.”
“I’m okay with that,” he said.
She kissed him. Soft at first. Testing him. Then fuller, surer. Like letting go of something she hadn’t realized she’d been holding back.
Payne’s warm hand found her waist and held her steady. And for a guy built like a human cannon, he kissed like he was afraid of breaking something fragile.
When they pulled apart, she lingered, then rested her forehead against his.
“I’m still not sleeping with you tonight,” she murmured. “But I am going to think about this kiss while I eat leftover risotto in bed.”
He grinned. “Then my mission is complete.”
Rayna pulled back, one eyebrow raised. “I knew this was a mission.”
He chuckled and stepped back, descending the stoop like a man very aware that he'd just won.
“Goodnight, Rayna.”
She watched him go until he turned the corner, then whispered into the cool night air, “Goodnight, Major Payne.”
And maybe, just maybe, she’d allow herself to smile all the way up the stairs.