by Sarah Biglow
I wanted Desmond to stay behind his desk to ensure there was a barrier between us. I wasn’t ready for him to be in my personal space just yet, but he didn’t seem to care. He moved to sit beside me on the sofa, hands cupping his knees.
“Why don’t you tell me what happened? All I’ve got is that you exhibited erratic behavior at a crime scene.”
My shoulder muscles tensed. “I was following the killer’s magical trail. But I couldn’t tell anyone because normal people can’t know that magic still exists. The Authority’s rules, remember?”
“It must be difficult trying to do your job and not being able to tell the people around you the truth.”
I couldn’t resist an eye roll. “Yeah, it is. I know that these cases are wrapped up in some pretty heinous dark magic, but I can’t tell that to anyone, so the rest of the department and Feds are left spinning in circles trying to find connections between people where none exist.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“We haven’t found any obvious connections between the victims yet, but maybe it’s not about the people. I think it’s tied to the locations, but I haven’t figured out what their end game is yet.” I didn’t want to talk about it anymore. I wanted to be anywhere but with him.
“Other than the case, how’ve you been?” he asked, giving me mental whiplash with the sudden change in the conversation.
I shrugged one shoulder. “Fine.”
“Come on, we used to talk a lot. Hell, there were times I wished I could have shut you up.”
“I’m not a kid anymore, Desmond. You were my idol, but not anymore.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way. But I genuinely am interested in what you’ve been doing.”
“You mean they haven’t been keeping tabs on me?”
“If they have been, they didn’t tell me.”
Somehow, I doubted that. “There’s nothing really to tell. I went to college, got my degree and joined the force. End of story.”
He snorted. “You were always smart, Ez, but not even you could have made detective this fast without help.”
My gaze narrowed. “What are you accusing me of exactly?”
“As I said, you’re smart. If I had to guess, I’d say you used your particular talents to get ahead.”
“It’s not against the rules. And I was helping people.”
“I’m not saying you did anything bad. It’s quite resourceful of you, actually. But there’s so much more you could be doing. If you just—”
“No.”
“Let me finish.”
“Forget it. I’m not going back there. Not after what they did. After what they cost me.”
Desmond rubbed the bridge of his nose. “You were so young then. There’s so much you didn’t understand. So much you still don’t get. If you just let them explain, if you let them help you, it would be so much easier. I think we both know a fight is coming.”
“Nothing would make me ask them for help. And I’ve been doing just fine on my own for years.”
He gestured to my throat. “I’d say someone beat you pretty good there. We could show you how to defend yourself.”
I swallowed, the muscles still sore. “It’s not that bad.”
“Do you know who hurt you?”
“Nope. But I’ll be ready next time. And I’m doing things you couldn’t dream of. So tell the Authority to keep their noses out of my business.”
He let out a prolonged sigh. “I can’t do that. You may not trust them, but you need them. And, more importantly, they need you. The prophecy is going to come to pass soon.”
In six days.
“They aren’t the ones with a destiny.”
“But the outcome of whatever battle you fight affects them. Why pass up their help if it gives you an edge?”
“I just can’t. I’ve managed on my own for the last ten years.”
“Come with me to the Authority. Just talk to them. Do that for me and I’ll sign off on your reinstatement paperwork.”
My blood ran cold and again I was on my feet. I let some of my will bleed into the world and Desmond went flying over the back of the sofa, slamming with a concussive ‘whump’ into the far wall. “You’re going to blackmail me?” My voice reverberated off the walls.
Desmond didn’t answer right away. He gingerly pulled himself to his feet, favoring the side that had collided with the wall. Spearmint permeated the room as he approached me. I’d almost forgotten the scent of his magic. There’d been a time as a child when I’d loved that smell.
“No, of course not. I’m offering a win-win situation. We get our Savior back and you get back to fighting for your victims.”
“You’re unbelievable.”
“Whether you want to acknowledge it or not, these are desperate times, Ezri.”
“Believe me, I know that. We’ve got three innocent people dead and I’m pretty sure whoever is behind it is raising the spirits of dark practitioners. I need to be back at work. I need to stop whatever this spell is they’re building.”
“Then come back. All I am trying to do is help you. Come back into the fold and you might learn that what you think is the truth about what happened with your mother is just your perception.”
“I know what happened.” I could feel my defenses coming back up. The intent to strike out again rippled over my skin like waves, ready to crash. I tried to calm myself. Lashing out again wasn’t going to do me any favors, not when he literally controlled when and if I got my job back.
“Still, we have resources you don’t. Resources you can’t possibly expect to get here where no one really understands what’s happening. The video footage alone is baffling the department’s techs.”
“How do you know about that?” A little of the fire died down in my chest.
“I’ve read up on the case. Like you said, this is deeply rooted in magic. In our history and the history of this city.”
“Then let me get back to work and save this city from more heartbreak.”
“I told you my terms. I’ll give you some time to think about it. But don’t wait too long. We are on a bit of a clock.”
I bit back the angry retorts that were fighting to come out. They wouldn’t help the situation. He’d made it perfectly clear where he stood. I needed to be on the case, but how could I go back to the people who’d let such a horrible thing happen to my family and not seek justice for it? How could I believe anything they had to say?
They’d say anything to win me back, even if it was full of lies. Desmond had seen something in these people that made him stick around, but he didn’t seem intent on sharing. Not here. Besides, he’d never been the one to bear the burden of being the Savior. He’d never really known what it was like to know that someday everything would come down to you being able to fight back.
He moved in, arms open as if to give me a hug, and I brushed past him. I wasn’t ready to be embraced by him. I yanked the door open and stepped into the hallway. I half expected him to come after me, but no footsteps sounded on the hardwood behind me. I chanced a look back over my shoulder and he’d returned to his desk. Our gazes met one last time.
“I’ll think about it.” It came out barely above a whisper.
Twelve
The moment I was out of Desmond’s office, I took off at a sprint down to the first floor and back out into the open air. I didn’t acknowledge any of my co-workers or the jacketed federal agents milling around the front of the building. I hadn’t even stopped to see if there was anything new with the case. Not that I was allowed to know, but that didn’t stop my curiosity from taking the reins sometimes. How had the interview gone with Preston’s family? Had the lists produced by Mrs. Cho and Mr. Mendoza yielded anything helpful?
I paced back and forth in front of the entrance letting the cool air calm my anger, hands shoved in my jacket pockets, until a uniformed officer I didn’t recognize approached me.
“Can I help you?” she asked. Her tone carried an edge of suspicion.
&nb
sp; I moved the hem of my jacket enough to flash her my badge. “I’m good. Thanks.”
“Sorry, Detective. I didn’t realize,” she said, her tone immediately melting in an apologetic lilt.
“It’s okay, Officer. I should probably get going anyway.”
Not excited by the prospect of sitting at home on my hands, I took the long way back to my apartment. I wound through the back streets of Brookline and Allston until I pulled into my parking space, having killed an extra half hour. It had given me time to calm down a little. The mere thought of Desmond no longer sent hot lances of rage rippling through my gut. Frustration still lurked at the back of my thoughts, though, settling into a pulsing headache at the base of my skull. I detested not being involved in the case. But they didn’t know I had the video files. If I could actually recover some of the footage maybe Desmond’s evaluation wouldn’t matter. They’d need me back.
I bounded up to my front door with renewed purpose, ready to take on the killer’s slimy magic. As I turned the key in the lock, the tiny hairs on the back of my neck flared. Leaving the key in the lock, I spun to face an empty hallway. I caught a whiff of lavender and charged toward the source. I swiped my right hand in front of me and came up against something like a barrier. Someone was hiding behind an invisibility spell. I curled my fingers as if to pull off a blanket, exerting just enough of my own power to counter the spell.
A girl with a dark purple pixie cut hovered six inches off the ground, her body translucent. Her outfit screamed Goth in its over-the-top use of black. Double cartilage piercings adorned each ear.
“Who are you?” I felt a barrier of my own encase me.
The girl set her feet on the ground becoming mostly solid. She held her hands up defensively. “Whoah, don’t take my head off.”
My hand inched toward my hip, ready to un-holster my weapon when I realized I hadn’t brought it with me. “I’ll ask you one more time, who are you?”
“Honestly, not the question I was expecting. But my name is Kayla.”
“Who sent you?”
“Desmond.”
“Fuck him,” I growled, my ire reignited. “I don’t need a damn babysitter.”
“Look, I’m just a messenger, okay? All he said was to just make sure you stay out of trouble and, when you’re ready, I’m supposed to let him know to come get you.”
“And how would he know how to find me?” I snapped.
She rolled her eyes. “Your personnel file, duh.”
Her explanation was logical enough, but I still didn’t like Desmond sending someone to follow me. “Well, you can tell him I’m not going anywhere with him.” I waved one hand dismissively in her direction. “Go on, go float on back to him and tell him that.”
“You know, for the Chosen One, you’re kind of a douche.”
“Thanks.” I turned on my heel and marched back to my door. I only dropped the protective barrier once I was inside and the door was locked.
Sure, it was only a minor impediment for a Whisperer like Kayla, but it still gave me a modicum of security. I’d only met one or two Whisperers in the time I was being trained by the Authority, but they’d given off a devil may care vibe. Living practitioners who’d had their magic go wrong, they’d been something of a Boogie man and cautionary tale for children in the community. Don’t overuse your magic or you’ll end up invisible to everyone you love.
The perversion of their own magic did come with the ability to pass through any solid surface virtually unseen, especially to modern technology. When I’d joined the force, I’d come to suspect many turned to crime given how easy it would be to get in and out without being seen. It helped, too, that they could make themselves completely invisible to people without any magical talents.
I stood by the doorway and waited until the floral scent of Kayla’s magic dissipated. I couldn’t be entirely sure she was gone, but I was going to have to chance it. I had more important things to do than worry about some errand girl. The living room was in the same disarray as I’d left it and I shoved the boxes and map aside, settling my laptop on my knees like I’d done before. Time to unmask these killers.
The vertebrae and cartilage in my neck snapped as I loosened the muscles. I wasn’t going to be caught off guard again by the son of a bitch on the other end of this spell. I opened the video file and built up the magic around me, folding it in layers over my body like armor. In my mind’s eye, I dove through the pixels and back into the virtual existence of the video file.
The stink of the tar grew more intense the closer I got, as if whoever was fueling the spell had purposely increased its potency since our last encounter. I clawed at the vines, freeing them with brute strength. As they slithered away and vanished, the muck beneath began to thin, revealing the hidden frames below.
I was making good progress when something sharp and heavy slammed into my back, knocking the air from my lungs. I stumbled face-first into the tar, coughing as it poured down my throat, choking me.
I spit but nothing came up. I took shallow, weak breaths, doing my best to take in oxygen through my nose. Whatever had knocked me down came swinging again and this time I managed to roll out of the arc of the blow. A mace fashioned from the vines collided with the space I’d just occupied, ripping through the fabric of the magical reality.
Still choking, I did my best to conjure something—anything—to defend myself. I pulled from the world around me, fashioning it into the one weapon I knew how to use: a gun. It felt solid in my hands, reassuring. I waited for my attacker to swing again, aimed the muzzle and fired. The vines exploded into shards of green, disappearing as if they’d never existed.
My assailant howled in anger. Or was it pain? Had I struck him, too, with my bullet? I took aim again at the sound of his voice and fired off another shot. This time it was definitely a cry of pain. With my attacker distracted, the tar thinned enough in my throat to spit out and I could breathe again.
“Come on you bastard!” The words tore from my throat, leaving it aching and raw.
The wails of pain subsided and, no matter what I tried, he stayed out of view, shrouded in shadow. This world was mostly of his making after all. I turned in a slow circle, waiting for the next attack to come. On my second rotation, something came speeding out of the dark, landing a shot to my jaw. My head snapped back and stars burst in my vision. The pain didn’t hit me yet, thanks to the barrier of my own magic around me. I should have thought to cast the spell over my entire body.
Stupid.
My opponent took advantage of the weakness and slammed another fist-like manifestation into my face. Blood dribbled down my chin from a split lip. I stood perfectly still, waiting for them to make a move. When the fist came flying into view, I used my own force to grab it inches from my face and slammed it into the ground. Whoever was behind it wasn’t physically attached to the magic and the fist melted into liquid, slipping through my fingers as easily as water.
The shadows quivered at the edge of my vision, turning into a behemoth, trundling toward me at full speed. Moments before the thing would have turned me into a pancake, I dematerialized into rays of light like I’d done last time. The creature passed through me—not a feeling I ever wanted to experience again—and vanished.
I turned to the vine-covered video frames to find the work I’d done was holding, but the rest of the tar and vines had thickened and hardened. I heaved for breath as the thought dawned on me. This had all been a distraction to keep me from accomplishing my intended goal. I summoned what strength I had left that wasn’t devoted to keeping my armor up to claw at the tar. My hands came away covered in muck and blood. The pain receptors in my hands were numbed by my own magic. I was sure I’d feel the agony later, but I needed to try to finish what I’d started.
I changed tactics. Instead of brute forcing my way through the protection spell on the video, I tried altering it at a molecular level like in the real world. I plucked a few molecules of tar from the rest and imposed my own will upon th
em, turning them to tiny granules of sand before hardening to glass and shattering.
“I’ve got you now.”
The length of tar in front of me quivered, glistening as it changed form. So close now. Just a little further.
Pain erupted in my left leg and I listed to one side as it gave out and refused to bear my weight. I looked down to find blood oozing down my calf. What looked like a piece of stone protruded from the wound. Something had pierced my armor. Limping, I turned to face my attacker, but the void of the magical construct greeted me. I wiggled the chunk of stone free, wincing as the blood flowed more freely and dizziness threatened to topple me. I diverted some of my magic to keeping the wound at bay.
“You aren’t going to stop me. I’ll just keep coming back and fighting!” My voice was swallowed by the silence around me.
Then something whistled through the air at top speed. My magic was beginning to fail me and I wasn’t fast enough to avoid the second projectile before it found its mark between my shoulder blades. Pain radiated from the point of impact and my body gave in. I fell—new pain in my elbow joined the rest of the agony—and the world disappeared, sending me into a freefall back to reality until consciousness eluded me.
Thirteen
I wasn’t sure what roused me at first until I moved my left leg and pain seared through my nerve endings. A guttural groan burbled in my throat.
“You’re awake,” a semi-familiar voice said.
I cracked one lid to see a hazy figure with purple hair leaning over me. My vision cleared to reveal my apartment in disarray and instinct kicked in. I tried to move to defend myself from the intruder—my head was fuzzy but I was pretty certain I hadn’t invited Desmond’s little spy in—but everything went slanted and I collapsed back on the couch.
“Whoa, calm down, Savior lady. You’re hurt pretty bad.”
I swallowed the cotton feeing from my mouth. “K-Kayla.”
“Well, at least whoever used your face as a punching bag didn’t mess with your memory. Didn’t make your personality any better, but some things I guess are just immutable.”