by Sadie Moss
“We’re not sure about that, sir. But scientists don’t always know how diseases work at first either. This could be a genetic thing, or it could be contagious, like a magical illness. We don’t have enough information to know yet.”
Stone rubs at his temple, looking exhausted. “Any patterns so far as to who manifests this magic?”
“It seems to be middle-aged people,” Logan notes. “People who are known to already have magic. We’re thinking it might need magic to feed on.”
“That’s a small mercy. It’s not attacking non-magical people, at least.” Stone sounds relieved. “All right. And it affects their mental state.”
“It seems to drive them mad, yes,” I admit. I can see the creepy mage in my mind’s eye, and Mary too. The way she asked for help, but then taunted us and fled. Which one of those versions of her was the real Mary?
I feel sick all over again, and I look at the floor, steadying myself.
“Right.” Stone draws himself up. “I’m pulling you off all other assignments. You’re going to focus on this one. Seems like we don’t have a lot to go on at the moment, but I want all of your attention on this. We’re going to figure this out, damn it. I don’t want any more lives lost if we can help it.”
“Yes, sir,” Logan and I both echo.
“And I don’t want word of this getting out. We don’t know enough about it yet. We don’t know if it’s a disease, or if it’s just a new type of magic we’ve evolved with, or what. Until we find out more, we can’t say anything. There will only be panic, and we don’t even know what type of people will be affected. We only just got the magical world to stop treating Unpredictables like ticking time bombs.”
“Yes, sir.” I clear my throat a little nervously as I take a step forward. “Since this is such a high priority, I was wondering if… if we could have assistance on this case. Have a proper team instead of just the two of us.”
The IUM director raises an eyebrow. “Who’d you have in mind?”
“Nick,” I start.
“Of course. He’ll be invaluable. He’s assisted us before.”
“And the man who helped us last time, with the mage in the mountains. Saint.”
That seems to take Stone aback. His thick brows pull together. “He’s not an IUM employee, and he’s a convicted criminal.”
“I know that. But he was the only reason we were able to track the mage last time. I have a feeling that we’ll need him again. Right now, with Ben, or even with Nick’s technology, we’ll just be waiting until we get a strong enough flare on the magical signature to find it. Saint doesn’t need that. With his super senses, he’s practically a bloodhound. And that would be a huge help right about now.”
Stone considers that, studying me intently as he seems to mull my words over.
“I agree, sir,” Logan adds, and my heart swells. “I think that both of those men would be helpful to our mission. We worked well together last time.”
“It was only because we had Nick and Saint with us that we were able to get the better of the mage when he attacked us,” I add.
“Hmm.” Stone eyes the both of us up and down. “All right, I suppose it would be better to have more people assisting you. If you feel that you can trust him, then I’ll go with your judgment. But it’s your responsibility if he fucks up. And I can’t guarantee that you can have him. It’s not my decision, ultimately.”
Ah, yes. The warden.
I clench my jaw, determination rising inside me. “We’ll take care of it, sir.”
It’s so late it’s early. By the time we get to the prison, it should be open enough for us to get a meeting with the warden, even if official visiting hours haven’t started yet. I won’t be there just to chat with Saint, after all. This will be an IUM mission.
“See that you do. And report directly to me. I want to be kept abreast of any new developments. Understood?”
“Of course, sir.”
“Excellent. Get to it, then.”
With twin nods, Logan and I turn and head out of the office.
“Thanks for backing me up in there,” I murmur to Logan as we step into the corridor. “I wasn’t sure he’d go for it. But I really think Nick and Saint will be helpful.”
This isn’t just about my growing feelings for them, and I want Logan to know that. I wouldn’t put the personal ahead of the professional in that way, and I’m not going to use something as serious as this strange magic flare-up as an excuse to try to spend time with people I find cute.
“I know.” He smiles at me as we get onto the elevator. “Trust me, I agree. Ben’s great, but Nick’s called a genius for a reason. If anyone can figure out how this magic manifests in people, it would be him. And Saint’s enhanced senses came in very handy on our last mission. If we get into another scrape, it would be good to have him around. Besides, the four of us worked well together as a team, and that matters just as much as all the rest of it.”
The elevator dings open and Logan puts his hand on the small of my back, guiding me out. It makes a shiver of warmth spread through me. Even after he drops his hand away, I can feel the imprint of it on my skin like a ghost.
“Let’s hope the warden feels the same way,” I murmur as we head toward the IUM parking lot.
Warden Claxton does not feel the same way.
“You want me to let him into your custody again?” he demands, his voice hard.
“Sir.” I try to keep my voice soothing. “He behaved perfectly well last time. It was thanks to him that we even succeeded on our mission. I can’t stress enough how much we need him on this one.”
“You may think you need him,” the tired-looking man counters, “but he’s a convicted murderer. He’ll just be looking for a way to get free. Waiting for you to drop your guards.”
Saint actually didn’t even wait for that last time. He got his tracker cuff undone first thing while we were in the maze tracking the mage, unbeknownst to us at the time. But I’m not going to tell the warden that. The official story is that the tracker cuff was damaged when we all went into the river and then fell off a waterfall, and I’m not going to rat Saint out.
“He saved my life, sir. I’m sure that you have good reason to be worried, but I think that I can keep him under control.”
I hate talking about him like this, like he’s an out of control dog or something, but I know that’s what the warden needs to hear. Sometimes when you’re on a time crunch, you just have to meet people where they are and speak their language so you can get what you need. And I need Saint on my team more than I need the warden to be educated on compassion.
“We’re having to choose between two evils here,” Logan adds. “I think it’s worth the risk if it means we’re ensuring the safety of our people. What happens if more people get hurt? Are we supposed to tell them that we had a possible ally, that we had someone who we thought could help us do our job, but we didn’t utilize his skills? How could we justify that?”
Claxton looks from Logan to me and back again, tilting his head in consideration. I don’t think the guy’s an asshole, honestly. I think he’s just set in his ways. That can be just as dangerous as actual malice, I’ve found. But right now, I’m glad I don’t have to go up against someone who’s deliberately being a dick.
“He’s due for a parole in a few years anyway,” I point out, trying not to let any of my growing desperation seep into my voice. “Why not just bump it up a bit? He’ll be helping us, so he’ll basically be doing community service.”
“Dangerous community service,” Logan adds quickly, and I’m so glad that he gets me. I feel like we’re on the same wavelength, like he’s saying the same things I’m thinking. “He’ll be risking his life to help us out. Isn’t that worth something?”
“All right,” the warden says at last, sighing with his entire body like this conversation is sapping all the energy he has. “I’ll allow it.”
“You’ll put him out on parole?”
“If you keep an eye o
n him,” Claxton replies. “I want reports, I want to make sure that you’re not just letting him roam around willy-nilly.”
“We won’t,” I promise. “We can’t have a tracker on him though. That won’t work with our mission. This is top secret, and I don’t want there to be another way for people to figure out what’s going on with only partial information. We have to be wary of leaks.”
“Fine.” The warden doesn’t look happy about it, but what’s he going to do? He has to know that we’re right. Besides, even if Saint was going to try to go rogue, it would be three against one.
And I don’t think he’ll do that. He tried once, but I doubt he’ll try again. I trust him.
“Fine?” Logan says, as if to confirm. I hold my breath as we wait for the answer.
Finally, the older man nods. “Yes. You can have Saint. I’ll let him out.”
I have never worked so hard to keep a smile off my face in my life.
Chapter 9
Saint doesn’t seem to understand what’s going on at first. I can see the confusion in his eyes as he’s brought out and the cuffs are taken off him. He’s given whatever set of clothes he was wearing when he was arrested, as well as his possessions that were put into lockup.
When he’s brought in, wearing just a pair of very worn jeans and a thin white t-shirt, he looks around like he’s not even sure what a room is.
“Hey, Saint,” I say, keeping my voice soft. I smile at him, and I struggle to keep it from growing too big, too wide, too relieved. I want to show how I’m feeling—for once—because I feel like Saint needs the reassurance, but I also don’t want the warden to realize the depth of my personal feelings in this. If he does, he might decide I’m emotionally compromised, and then we won’t get Saint after all.
I won’t let that happen.
“We got you a deal,” Logan explains as Saint stares at us. “Your parole starts now, so long as you follow IUM orders and assist us on our mission.”
Saint looks directly at me, his eyes a bit wide. I can see a myriad of emotions crossing his face, and I struggle to keep my own face somewhat neutral. He looks bewildered, then like he’s been hit by a train, and then like he might cry. His fingers twitch, like they’re starting to reach for me and he’s stopping himself.
I know the feeling. I want to have Saint hug me, I want to smell him, to be wrapped up in his arms. I had no idea how much you could want someone, how strong that ache could be, just for simple human contact, until I wasn’t allowed to touch him. I feel like my heart is a horse straining at the bit, or a dog trying to escape the leash.
“You’re out of prison,” Logan clarifies, probably wondering if Saint’s figured it out yet. “You’ve been paroled, so you won’t have to go back, as long as you abide by the terms of the agreement.”
Saint nods curtly and swallows hard, apparently too overcome by emotion to say anything. Not that he’s talkative at the best of times anyway.
He nods gravely at Logan, then at me. “Thank you.”
“Of course.” I start to reach out, to hold my hand out to him, but then I stop myself. “Come with us, please.”
“You really don’t owe us anything for this,” Logan points out as we head out of the prison. “We need you. We should be thanking you, really.”
Once we’re safely in the car, Logan and Saint both relax—Saint a lot more so than Logan.
“I can’t believe we pulled that off,” Logan notes, his body relaxing as he drapes one hand easily over the steering wheel. “You want pancakes, Saint?”
“We need to get to Nick’s,” I point out.
“Yeah. But Nick will probably have pancakes ready if we ask him.”
I laugh. That’s a fair point, he probably will. Nick’s the kind of guy who could somehow manage to whip up a gourmet breakfast in thirty minutes even if his kitchen is completely empty. He has a talent for making something amazing out of what looks like nothing.
“I’ll ask him.”
“Are you serious?” Saint asks. “About needing my help? Or was that just to get me out?”
“No, we really do need your help,” I admit. “There’s no way we could’ve gotten you out on a lie. Someone would’ve checked up at some point and seen through it all. But I hope—I hope this means that you can stay out. Even after the mission is complete. That’s our goal. That you’re doing this instead of serving the rest of your jail time.”
Saint nods, then reaches out. I reach for him too, finally giving in to the impulse that I’ve had ever since we were back at the prison. Both of us stretch our arms out until we can clasp hands. Saint’s in the backseat and I’m in the front passenger seat, so it’s a little awkward, but I don’t care. I can touch him. I can touch him whenever I want. There aren’t any guards to stop us.
Nick is, as Logan suspected, enthusiastic about the pancakes. He texts back a lot of exclamation points, and when we pull up to his swanky penthouse apartment in downtown Portland and head up to the top floor, he’s got a whole buffet of food ready to go.
“I can’t begin to tell you how fucking excited I am to work on this project,” he tells us, leading us inside and straight to the massive kitchen. “Saint!”
He grins, turning around to face us once we’ve all piled into the room and hugging the burly, gruff man. Saint gives me a startled look before hugging Nick back. It must be weird for him, after being around people who either hated him on principle or didn’t give a damn about him, to now be with people who like him and care about him.
Nick pulls back and claps Logan on the shoulder, then he pulls me in, hugging me and dipping me a little.
“Is that really necessary?” Logan asks.
Saint’s a bit busy stuffing his face with the bacon that’s on the massive white granite kitchen counter, and honestly, I can’t blame him.
Nick pulls me back out of the dip. “Oh, completely necessary.” He chuckles. “Why? Are you sad I didn’t dip you? You’re taller than I am, but I’m sure we could make it work anyway.”
“Hilarious,” Logan replies, his voice dry.
Nick finally lets go of me and claps his hands together. “So, Stone finally let you guys turn this into a proper investigation, huh? Are we going to get to go hunting after this magic?”
“We need you to help us identify what it even is, what kind, how we can detect it in people, how it spreads, if it’s like a virus,” I point out. I’m glad that at least one of us is excited for this mission, but it isn’t a game. People’s lives are at stake. Two people have died already, and I can’t escape the feeling that I could’ve—should’ve—done something more to prevent it.
Even if Logan feels that there’s nothing I could’ve done… I can’t let go of the guilt.
“Oh, trust me, I am so ready for this,” Nick assures us. “Okay. Pancakes. Chocolate chip or regular?”
“Regular,” Logan and I both reply.
“Boring,” Nick sing-songs before loading up our plates with pancakes. “Ah, well. More for me. Clearly, I’m going to be the interesting one on this team.”
I roll my eyes, but he’s obviously just having fun with us, so I can’t hide my smile as well. Nick puts bacon and eggs on my plate, then does the same for Logan.
That’s something that I can’t help but like about Nick, and I think that’s why he gets away with so much from people—he’s a rich genius who runs around doing whatever he wants and causing a constant bit of chaos, yes. That’s undeniable. But he’s also insanely generous with himself and with his wealth and everything else he has. He doesn’t hoard it, he gives all of it away if he can, whether it’s money or technology or pancakes.
And I love that. I really do.
“Now, don’t get mad at me,” Nick goes on, which means I’m definitely about to get annoyed with him. “I know that this wasn’t authorized, and I probably shouldn’t have done it, technically, from a legal standpoint. But…”
He ushers us all out of the kitchen, plates in hand. When we reach the wide living
room, he picks up a small remote and clicks it ahead of him, and a massive projector slides down from the ceiling in the middle of the living room, lighting up. The lights around the room dim, and images project up onto the screen.
I settle onto a leather sofa, and Saint sits down next to me, apparently finished with this most intense phase of “devouring delicious non-prison food” and into a more sedate pace. Unable to resist, I lean into him. He puts his arm around my shoulders, and I can feel him bury his face in my hair, inhaling deeply.
My heart aches. He needs this, so much. I hope he knows he can touch me as much as he wants now—that I want to be as close to him as he seems to want to be to me.
I want him to feel love and to have human contact. Nobody should be deprived of that.
“So, I’ve been doing research,” Nick says, drawing my attention back to him. “Working on the magical signature and trying to compare it to others. Sort of like when you try to figure out what kind of dinosaur a bone belongs to by comparing it to other dinosaur bones.”
“I’m not sure that’s how paleontology works,” I point out.
“Are you a paleontologist?” he asks.
“Are you?” I counter.
“How long did it take you to make this presentation?” Logan asks.
“Not important, but it was time well spent,” Nick says quickly, moving on. “So. I got residue from the dear old mage that we had to, uh, send off on our last mission together. I’m friends with the CSI team. Great people.”
“Is there anyone you’re not friends with?” Logan arches a brow.
“Elon Musk. I hate that guy.”
“Okay, great, next time you two rich people get into a celebrity feud on Twitter, let me know, I’ll help.”
“Aww, thanks, Logan, you’re so…” Nick pauses, cocking his head. “You’re joking.”
“I am very much joking. I don’t care about your feuds with other rich people.”
“I care,” I jump in.
Nick points at me. “See? She cares.”
I hold out my hand. “I care if you pay me to. My starting rate is a thousand dollars.”