Magic Betrayed

by Elizabeth Kirke

  “Dead?” Mariana echoed.

  Ember dropped her pile on a desk with a resounding thud. “I was thinking,” she said, dusting off her hands, “when I was starting the reports. I remember a couple of the people who went missing have been reported as dead. So, filtering by just missing isn’t going to cover everyone from the park. So…” She gestured to her stack. “I added dead. It’ll be more work, but I think it’s better to be thorough.”

  Mariana and I nodded in agreement.

  “Where do we start?” I asked, eyeing the massive stack of paper.

  “I figured we sort it first,” Ember said. “We’ll just each grab a handful and put it into four piles. One, park for sure; that’s for the ones that actually mention the park in the activity log. Two, not the park; the ones that specifically say they went missing or died somewhere else. Three is maybe the park. That’s the one where they have something in their activity log like a witness who said they were going camping or a charge from a sporting goods store or something. And last is probably not the park. Same idea, but for files that don’t suggest any outdoor activity. I figure if we end up finding any patterns in the park files, we can pull these out if need be.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” I said, reaching for the pile. I grabbed a thick bunch of papers and settled into a desk next to Ember’s. Mariana dragged a third desk around so we were sitting in a circle and took her own pile.

  “I’d offer to help,” Rak said. “But that will be a bit hard without thumbs.” He settled in on a nearby desk. “But I am here if you need me.”

  “Thanks, Rak,” I said. I studied my first file. Status: Missing. I flipped to the activity log page; the most recent entries were interviews and case notes. And right there: Allegany State Park. “Park,” I said grimly, holding it up. Ember gestured to an empty desk and I tossed it there.

  “Not-park,” said Mariana a moment later. She leaned over and set it on a different desk.

  “Maybe-park,” Ember said with a dry chuckle, setting her file on another desk.

  We worked in silence for a couple of minutes, developing a somewhat morbid-feeling rhythm for checking files for cause of death or disappearance. I picked up a new file and glanced at the status, then frowned.

  “Hey, Ember,” I said, confused. “This one is active.”

  “What?” she asked, eyes flaring.

  “Here.” I handed it over.

  Her eyes dimmed as she studied it, then turned red with annoyance. “I know what this is. Lazy, dehydrated IT idiots at work.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  Ember thought for a moment. “Well… okay, actually perfect example. So, say you accidentally changed this guy’s status to missing. Now there’s a record in the activity log showing it, along with your name. You have to set it back to active, which adds another entry, and then you have to attach a note to the entry explaining that the status changes were accidents, right?”

  I nodded, as it happened, the regulations for adding entries to the activity log were quite fresh in my mind, seeing as I had to update the appropriate files every time I spoke with someone on the phone.

  “Some people think that accidental entries make them look bad or something.” Ember rolled her eyes. “So, they ask someone in the IT department to delete the log entirely.”

  “I was told we aren’t allowed to delete stuff,” I said.

  “You’re not. And technically, neither is IT.” Ember shrugged. “But, sometimes instead of bothering to explain that, some IT people go ahead and do it anyway. The problem…” She paused and pursed her lips. “Remember the frontend and the backend, right? If you change someone’s status to missing in the frontend and save it, then it triggers a bunch of automated sequences. One of those is automatically adding the change entry to the activity log. But there are like twenty other things, out of sight, that all get updated on the backend. If you do it properly and change it back to active, then all those things happen again. Following?”

  Mariana and I nodded.

  “If someone from IT is asked to fix it – the wrong way – then they’ll go in through the backend and manually change the status to active and then go to the activity log and delete the record. Problem is that doesn’t trigger the sequence. So, those other twenty things don’t get updated and they stay set for missing. Most of the time, that won’t be a problem, cause everything looks right on the frontend. But, if you run a report, like I just did, then they’ll screw up the system and show up.”

  “Annoying,” Mariana said.

  “Luckily, it doesn’t happen that often, I don’t think,” Ember said. She clutched the file in her hand and it started to smoke. “Actually…” Her eyes flared and the tiny flame at the edge of the paper died, instead she tucked the paper under her chair. “I should probably fix it.”

  “Who does that?” asked Mariana in annoyance.

  “No way to see in the backend,” Ember said, wrinkling her nose. She reached for another file. “Oh well. Moving on.”

  I did the same and we each sorted a few more files.

  “Um, Ember?” Mariana said suddenly. “I have another active one.”

  “Ashes, really?” Ember took it from her and glared at it. She flipped through a couple of pages, clicking to herself, then she frowned. “Huh. She hasn’t had any new activity in six years…”

  “That’s not so unusual, is it?” I was fairly sure I saw plenty of files with big gaps. Most activity logs weren’t updated unless the person interacted with MES somehow.

  “I suppose not,” Ember agreed. “Guess I’m just paranoid.” She stuck it under her chair and grabbed another file. “Active!” she cried the moment she looked at it. “You’ve got to be kidding me!”

  “When was the last activity?” Mariana asked.

  “Less than a year ago,” Ember said.

  At that moment, I found another. “I have one too,” I said. I flipped to the activity log. “Two years.” I was about to hand it to Ember when I glanced at the most recent entry and pulled it back to me. “Wait… this is a vampire.”

  “So?” Mariana asked.

  I tried to think back to the day, not long after I started my internship, that I sat down with Thomas and looked over his file while I learned my way around the database. His activity log was jam-packed and he explained how it worked. “Every time a vampire comes to feed at MES, they scan their ID and it’s automatically added to the activity log,” I said. “According to the log, this guy hasn’t come here to feed in two years.”

  “So, he’s either feeding illegally and hasn’t been caught or…” said Mariana.

  “Or he really is missing,” Ember said darkly. “And someone changed his file to cover it up.”

  Rak jumped up next to me and looked at the file. “Does it have the pending… what did Thomas call it?”

  “Pending email sequence!” I said, looking back at the file. Vampires were also supposed to have an entry in their activity log that was queued up to send a notification to the local feeding coordinator, in our case, Thomas, to let them know if a vampire failed to check in or sign up to feed. “No, I don’t see it… would those have printed, Ember?”

  She nodded. “Yes, pending sequences should be there. If it’s not… then someone removed it so the coordinator isn’t notified!”

  “Don’t you think Thomas would notice if someone didn’t show up to feed?” Mariana asked.

  “Let’s find out,” I said, pulling out my phone to call him.

  He answered quickly. “Hey, Jen. Heading home?”

  “Not yet, I have question about your job.”

  “You project sounds fascinating,” he said dryly. “What is it?”

  “If the email sequence that alerts you when a vampire doesn’t feed was uh… accidentally deleted from the database. Would you notice?” I switched it to speaker so the others could hear.

  “Huh. Probably not,” Thomas said after a moment.

  “You wouldn’t check?” I asked.


  “Honestly? No. I remember having to track all of that on paper and it was a huge amount of work. I don’t know how I ever found the time. And I wasn’t even a special agent back then. I don’t have the time to… how do I put this… I can’t take time away from my other work to double-check that something that is supposed to be automated is functioning properly. Of course, I’d feel awful if that did happen. Then again, if the sequence got deleted then that vampire wouldn’t get the feeding notification emails, either. So, I imagine they’d reach out to us and the error would be found pretty quickly.”

  I glanced up at Ember who nodded in agreement.

  “What if,” I asked, “the vampire didn’t want to feed? Legally, I mean.”

  Thomas was silent for a minute. “I don’t think that would happen,” he said finally. “Sure, there are vampires like that, obviously. But unless they work for MES, the average vampire doesn’t know about the email sequence in the database and how it works. If there was an error in the tracking, they wouldn’t know about it to take advantage of it.”

  Ember leaned forward, closer to my phone. “Okay, so what if that did happen. Wouldn’t you notice if someone is missing feedings though? In person?”

  “Oh, hi, Ember,” Thomas chuckled. “I’m afraid I wouldn’t know; I don’t go to feedings.”

  “You don’t?”

  “Most of them are at night and I’m working. I drop in to feed on my break, but I don’t go there to supervise or anything. Besides, there are so many vampires and dhampirs in the area, I don’t know if I’d remember them all well enough to keep track of who is where, especially considering feedings can be a little irregular.”

  “I think that’s all we needed to know,” I said. Ember and Mariana nodded. “Thanks!”

  “Anytime?” he said, sounding skeptical.

  After I hung up the three of us looked at each other somberly.

  “So, what if,” Ember said, tapping the vampire’s file. “This guy really is missing. And someone changed his file to cover it up?”

  “Well, we know nobody would notice if the email sequence was removed,” I added.

  “What about those other ones?” Mariana asked. “Are they all vampires?”

  Ember pulled the active status files out from under her chair. “Werewolf, dhampir, and air elemental…” She pulled out one and studied it. “The dhampir was active um… just about nine months ago. But her sequences are deleted too.”

  “Let’s sort the rest of these and see how many more are like that,” Mariana suggested. “Then, we can go though all of them like we planned, looking for connections.”

  We nodded in agreement and the three of us returned to sorting. We stopped long enough to take a dinner break, but none of us really seemed to feel like eating. Going through the printouts of the missing and dead was grim work. We were finally close to the end when someone knocked gently on the door.

  Jon came in and closed it behind him. “I heard the three of you were still here,” he said, nodding toward Rak. “And Rak, good evening. I must apologize, I did not intend for this task to keep you here so late after your shifts.”

  “We wanted to stay,” Ember said with a shrug. “At least until this is all sorted.”

  “I see. May I ask what you have so far?” Jon asked, studying our large stacks.

  We explained the criteria we started with and how we were sorting it all.

  “Well done,” Jon said. “I believed the three of you were best suited to this task and now I see I was correct.” He narrowed his eyes. “I regret that it is necessary, especially given what you have already uncovered. This is indeed serious.”

  “There’s something else,” Ember said. She told him about the strange active files we found that had been altered.

  “Concerning,” Jon said when she was done. “Extremely concerning…” He frowned in thought. “Do you know yet if they are connected to the park?”

  We shook our heads. “We haven’t sat down to compare them yet,” Mariana said.

  Jon nodded. “The park is our priority; I don’t want to take too much time away from it. But this matter is worth exploring, especially if there is a connection. Ember, I want you to check the database again to make sure there are no additional altered files, if that is possible. If you do find a connection between these and the park, then it will be worth the additional time. If not… set them aside. But expect to return to them when the matter in the park is resolved. I will need the three of you to explore that as well. I thank you again.” He dipped his head in a small bow, then turned to leave.

  “Ne, Hideki,” Fend said. He spoke quickly and quietly in Japanese, perched on Jon’s shoulder, so I couldn’t understand much of it.

  “Aa,” Jon agreed softly. He turned back to us. “I said before this requires discretion.” We nodded. “Given what you have uncovered, keeping this secret is of the utmost importance. If these files have been altered to conceal additional disappearances…then it was done by one of our own at MES.”

  We were so busy sorting and trying to figure things out, it hadn’t even occurred to me. I could have slapped myself; of course it was someone at MES.

  “Ashes,” Ember cried. “You’re right! The only way to make those changes is in the backend! You’d have to have a hardwired computer and IT access!” Her eyes flared and her normally sun-burn-red face paled. “Do you think it’s someone here? In… in my office?”

  “I do not know,” Jon said. “Certainly someone in our region, I would think. Be careful, all of you. We must not let whoever is responsible for this know that we have uncovered it.”

  Once he was gone, we all sighed and looked nervously at our stacks of paper.

  “All those people,” Mariana said softly. “And… and someone at MES could be behind it?”

  I shuddered. I hadn’t worked here long, but I always felt comfortable walking the halls. Everyone seemed so friendly…

  Rak yawned, which made me yawn. Somehow, it broke the tension and we all giggled. Mariana yawned too.

  “How long have we been here?” she groaned. “I hate to say it, but I don’t think I’m going to make it until Dani’s shift is over and I don’t know how much longer I’m going to feel like driving either.”

  “Tell you what,” Ember said. “Why don’t you two finish sorting these. I’ll go see if I can figure out how to print out any other altered files. And bring them back if I do. Once it’s all sorted, we can head out.” We nodded and she stood. “Oh, maybe I’ll call Callan and ask him…” she said as she started to leave.

  “Who’s Callan?” I asked. “And can we trust—” The door closed behind her.

  “We can,” Mariana said. I turned to her curiously. “He’s married to one of Dani’s good friends from the Legion.”

  “Why is she calling him?”

  Mariana laughed. “He’s one of the best MES hackers in the country. And I’m pretty sure he wrote the code for the database. Or at least some of it. If anyone knows their way around it, it’s him.”

  “Let’s get to sorting then,” I said. If Ember and Mariana trusted him, I assumed Dani did too, and that was good enough for me.

  We were just about done when Ember came back with another huge stack of paper.

  “Oh no!” Mariana cried. “There are that many?!”

  “Not quite.” Ember navigated her way to a desk and set them down.

  “Why are they burned?” Mariana asked with a laugh.

  Sure enough, there was a big burned spot on the side of the stack. Rak sniffed a little. I did too and could just smell a touch of smoke.

  Ember sighed. “I’m so frigging jumpy, thinking that someone in IT is covering all this up. Charlotte was doing a double today and she came over to see why I was here so late and startled me so much I set it on fire.” She frowned at the papers. “I don’t think I singed any words though.”

  “So, what is all that?” I asked.

  “Well, according to Callan I…” Ember stopped and laughed. “Sorry,
I almost got technical on you there. Basically, there are um, redundancies and backup files in the system. Callan walked me though how to find accounts that have different information in the backend than what is showing on the frontend and print them. This stack is actually two files per person.” She held up two little packets. “One is their file as it appears in the frontend and the other is what we have in the backend, with…” She flipped it open and pointed to some red text. “Automatic changes highlighted! All we have to do see what’s red and that shows us what was removed or altered!”

  “Perfect” cried Mariana.

  I yawned again. “What now?”

  “I guess we go home and pick up tomorrow?” Ember said with a shrug.

  “Wait, shoot. I’m off tomorrow,” I said. “I could come in…”

  Ember shook her head. “I think Jon wants us to act as normal as possible. Even us staying late like this is kind of weird. We should try to stick to our schedules as much as we can.”

  “I’m off too,” Mariana said. “And I’m supposed to have lunch with my parents.”

  “I’m working,” Ember groaned. “Go ahead and have lunch and…”

  “Can we split these up somehow?” I asked. “I could take a stack and go over it at home.”

  “I’ll help if I can,” offered Rak.

  “That should work,” said Mariana. “It’s all sorted, so now we need to try to find connections and patterns, right? If we each take some and do that, we can write down anything similar or strange that we find and then compare notes. I’ll take some too and come over after lunch.”

  “Toasty! Then, I’ll keep some here and look at it when I can while I’m working,” Ember said. “Let’s see… why don’t you guys take these.” She tapped the top of the newest stack of papers. “If these really were altered by someone at MES, we don’t want to get caught with them here.”

  “I’ll take those,” I volunteered.

  “I sorted them so our pile of active-but-missing people weren’t printed again,” Ember said. “Why don’t you grab those, Mariana? And I’ll take the rest.”