by Alex Steele
“At this point, any of those could be possible. We really don’t know.”
The wards buzzed lightly. Bootstrap paused and tapped on his tablet. “Lopez and Danner just came in the front door.”
“Alright.” I stood and headed toward the door. “Let us know if you crack that rune.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Bootstrap said, waving us away and he returned his attention to the rune hacking. I’d never seen him focus so completely on one thing before.
We met Danner and Lopez downstairs in the kitchen. Lopez looked like she’d just rolled out of bed. Her hair was in a loose braid, and she was wearing a shirt three sizes too big. Danner had a cup of coffee and was grimacing as he sipped it.
“What the hell happened?” Lopez covered her mouth and let out a big yawn.
“Long story short, the Awakened can teleport between places, and left a teleportation rune in the Manor,” I said, crossing my arms and leaning back against the wall.
“They drugged his cookies and kidnapped him,” Swift added helpfully.
Danner snorted and shook his head, gnawing on a toothpick. “Looks like they let you go, so they must want something.”
“They’re willing to help us get Bradley out of Purgatory, but in return, they want our help rescuing their...leader.” I scratched the stubble on my jaw. “Just so happens that their leader is Prometheus — a sort of god that we suspect might be gearing up to participate in this war that’s brewing.”
“This is some bullshit,” Danner declared.
Lopez snorted. “I can’t disagree with that statement.”
“Neither can I.” I exhaled sharply. Everyone seemed about as apprehensive as I’d expected to the idea of working with the Awakened. “They’re coming back around midnight tomorrow — well, I guess it’s today now — to talk to you all personally. I told them I wasn’t going to try to sell their plan for them.”
Lopez narrowed her eyes. “You think we should work with them.”
“Maybe. I don’t think we have a chance of successfully rescuing Bradley without help, and we don’t exactly have people lining up to infiltrate the world’s most protected prison.” Shaking my head, I pushed off the wall and began pacing the kitchen. “We’re running out of options and time.”
Danner pulled his toothpick out of his mouth. “Why are they going out of their way to help us?”
I hesitated before answering, then shook off the doubt. They deserved to know. “In Purgatory, normal magic doesn’t work, but my mayhem magic will. They need me to rescue Prometheus.”
“And can you control your fancy-ass magic?” Danner asked, voice full of skepticism.
“Somewhat.”
Lopez put her head in her hands. “I’ll be damned if we leave Bradley to rot in Purgatory, but…” she looked up, face lined with exhaustion. “Trusting these psychos is risky, and getting ourselves involved in some kind of war is insanity.”
“Everything that’s happening right now is insanity,” Swift interjected. “We can’t stop doing the right thing simply because it’s dangerous. I won’t, at least.”
Lopez shook her head, but a smile crept across her face. “Guess we’re doing crazy then.”
Danner threw a hand up like he was exasperated, but if he wasn’t objecting, then he was on board — assuming we all liked what the Awakened had to say at the next meeting.
“Is Viktor in danger?” Lopez asked.
“I don’t think so. They want our help too badly,” Swift said, leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees. “When is he supposed to contact you next?”
Lopez checked her watch. “Anytime in the next few hours.”
“We can tell him to come back here right away. There’s no reason for him to stay undercover when they clearly know who we are. They’ll either give us answers, or they won’t.”
Lopez nodded, then looked at me. “You making us breakfast, or what?”
“Why am I constantly having to feed everyone I know? Bunch of moochers,” I muttered as I headed to the refrigerator to see if there was anything edible inside.
Twenty-Nine
My belly was still stuffed from breakfast — french toast that I had painstakingly prepared — and I was on my third cup of coffee. I’d been tempted to stay home today and catch up on sleep, but I felt like we were running out of time on our case.
Swift flipped back to the same picture for the third time.
“What is it?”
She leaned forward as she zoomed in to the top left corner onto a blurry moped. “This is surveillance from the area around the storage facility. This moped shows up two days before, and the day of. I’ve found something similar at the other sites that were robbed.”
“You think it’s our shadowy friend?”
“Either him or whoever hired him scouting out the place. But it’s likely it’s him. He’d need to know the escape route.”
“Is the license plate visible in any of the pictures?”
“That’s what I’m trying to find. So far, no.”
“Wait, stop the tape.” I reached across her and slapped the pause button before she could do as I asked. “Look up the plates on that black car.”
She opened another window and ran the search. The results popped up immediately — the Saito family corporation. That car belonged to Hiroji.
I straightened, never taking my eyes off the screen. In my entire career, I’d never run into a case involving him. That he was involved in this angered me. These people were scum.
Swift turned to face me. “This isn’t proof he’s involved. It could be a coincidence that he was there.”
I clenched my jaw. “I don’t believe in coincidences when it comes to Hiroji, and I don’t think you really believe he’s not involved either.”
She took a deep breath and turned back, pressing her hands to her temples. “It doesn’t look good.”
“We need to find this thief, then I’ll deal with Hiroji, but I’m not letting him get away with this if he’s involved somehow.”
A brief knock interrupted us and a harried looking Sergeant Zhang stuck his head in the door. “Magisters are ordering everyone to gather in the conference hall.”
Swift immediately bristled at Zhang’s announcement. For a moment, she looked exactly like a cat who had accidentally stepped in water. “Why?”
“No clue, but we’re about to find out.”
As we headed to the meeting, other agents joined us. They really had summoned everyone. There wasn’t a single smile to be seen. No one thought we’d hear good news in the next ten minutes.
“Do you think this is about the most recent riot?” Swift whispered as we filed into the meeting hall.
“I hope so,” I said without confidence.
This room was normally used for formal events, so it was empty, leaving us IMIB agents to mill around the empty space. Everyone was whispering about what this could mean. Their guesses ranged from announcements about the new IMIB Director to Moira getting shut down permanently. I had a sinking feeling in my gut it would be much worse than any of that.
A familiar face I had no interest in ever seeing again caught my attention. The crowd parted as Atticus walked toward the stage with a smug expression. The conversation in the room grew silent and he turned to face the gathering.
“Due to recent incidents, including the violent riots that threatened reconstruction efforts just this morning, the Mage’s Guild has decided that the state of emergency must be extended. The other councils unanimously supported this decision.”
Questions immediately erupted from the crowd, but I stayed silent. Anger pounded in my chest. This had been inevitable, but I still couldn’t believe it was actually happening. Swift stood as stiff as a board next to me. Her magic twitched under her skin.
Atticus raised his hands, signaling for the crowd to quiet once again. “There will be time for questions at a future date. For now, all you need to know is that until the state of emergency can be lifted, the Mage’s Guild wi
ll continue acting in the best interests of all citizens of Moira, and the world. The IMIB lost its leadership in the recent attack. As a result, the councils just voted to absorb the IMIB back into the Mage’s Guild. This does mean there will be a certain...restructuring.”
His eyes flicked to mine, then slid to Swift. I had the urge to shield her from his gaze but I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of thinking he had me rattled.
“Your new assignments will be given to you by the magister that will be assigned to your division. Specific questions can be directed to them. Until then, all activities and investigations are suspended.”
That caused another uproar. A few people shouted some insults from the back of the room, but black robed magisters pushed them out the doors.
Swift grabbed my arm and nodded her head toward one of the exits. Lopez was already on her way out. I followed willingly. I had no desire to stay in this room and listen to Atticus’s bullshit any longer. Questions were pointless.
I’d made it only a few steps out of the room when a magister stepped in my path.
“The Marshal needs to speak with you. Please follow me to his office.”
I quickly motioned for Swift to continue without me. I didn’t want to give them a reason to drag her into this “meeting” as well.
“Alright, lead the way,” I said as politely as I was capable.
Thirty
The elevator stopped at the top level of the Mage’s Guild tower. The doors slid open and the magister shouldered past me to lead the way.
Unlike the clean, white decor of the lower levels, this area was opulent. It felt like I’d stepped three hundred years into the past and found myself in a palace in France. Ornate columns stood guard on either side of a grand arch that must have been thirty feet high. An intricate Renaissance-style painting adorned the ceiling, anguished figures caught in an eternal battle that stretched the entire length of the room.
The Mage’s Guild had always thought highly of themselves, but recreating Versailles for your offices seemed like a bit much even for them.
My escort took a sharp left and led me down a hallway that was every bit as grand. He stopped in front of a door with a nameplate that identified it as Atticus’s office and knocked once, then opened the door for me.
I walked in and the door shut behind me with a solid thunk. Comforting. This office was just as over-decorated as the rest of the place. A monstrous desk sat in front of a massive wall of books. I doubted anyone had ever touched a single one of them.
Atticus stood in front of the window, his black robes in sharp contrast to the sunlight streaming in. He didn’t move as I walked in. He simply looked out at the view and took another sip of his drink.
I crossed my arms and stayed near the door. He had asked me here and he could damn well explain why, but I wasn’t going to beg for an explanation. If he didn’t start talking in a few seconds, I’d just leave.
Atticus drained his glass then finally turned to face me. “This has a much better view than the last place we met, don’t you think?”
“Sure, but I’m not here for the view.”
A smiled grew on the Marshal’s face. “Of course, you’re here because I summoned you. A benefit of my rank.” He strode over to his desk and pulled out a folder. “You are aware of the restructuring efforts now that the IMIB is merging with the Mage’s Guild, correct?”
I ground my teeth together as I nodded. Merging. That was a very polite way to say hostile takeover. “I am.”
“I thought you might be distressed about the changes with your job, so, as friends, I wanted to give you your new assignment myself.”
Friends. It was such a stupid thing to imply when we both knew we were the opposite, but Atticus seemed to enjoy these sorts of games, the fake politeness, toying with his prey like a cat. I refused to be the mouse.
“I have no interest in a new assignment. Restructuring, or no, I’m staying as a Detective.”
“Indeed, you are. Your title will change to Magister, but we would hate to waste your talent at closing cases. However, since you also have the highest rate of complaints, collateral damage, and generally uncivil behavior, we do have to shift you into a position that will have less…” he paused, tapping his chin thoughtfully, “...interaction with the general public.”
My skin crawled at the thought of having to wear the black robes of a magister. To carry the symbol of the Mage’s Guild on my chest. To swear fealty to the man that murdered my parents.
“Your skills and deficiencies have been examined so that we could place you in the best assignment for you and for the Mage’s Guild.” A smug smile spread across his features. “You will report to Magister Tillburn in the London office Wednesday morning where you will be working on cold cases. Someone with your skills can certainly bring closure to cases no one else has been able to solve.”
“Swift and I will be able to handle cold cases just fine, but I intend to finish our current case before we move on.”
Atticus waved away my suggestion. “Another magister is already working on your case. The suspect you brought in — I believe his name was Kevin Jacobs — had some very helpful information after all, and was more than happy to share that with his contact. They’re going to arrest the thief this afternoon. In fact we’ll be making another high profile arrest that you may find interesting.”
My brow furrowed. “Kevin Jacobs is likely the one who hired the thief. He’s the one that should be arrested.”
“We have more important things in mind for Mr. Jacobs, but you don’t need to worry about that anymore,” Atticus said pleasantly. “And your current partner will have her own assignment. Cold cases is more of a one-man job, which is your specialty. Your distaste for working with a teammate is well-documented, and was, of course, taken into consideration.”
“I’d prefer to continue working with my current partner—”
“It has already been decided. You can apply for a transfer in a year.” He closed my file and set it back on his desk. “That is all, Detective Blackwell. I’m sure you have more pressing things to do than discuss this. Enjoy your new assignment.”
In that moment, I wanted nothing more than to charge across the office and cave Atticus’s face in. That was likely his goal, to goad me into a brash act, or simply to sit back and enjoy my frustration. I refused to satisfy either motivation.
Without comment, I turned around and walked out. It didn’t matter what assignment they tried to give me right now. I was about to break into Purgatory — my job was already forfeit. This was just insult on top of injury.
As soon as the door shut behind me, I pulled out my phone and texted Swift. My phone buzzed immediately with her reply.
This is absolute crap. They’re moving me to the Magister’s Academy for an assistant teaching position. Under my cousin.
I grimaced. That was worse than mine. At least I wouldn’t have to deal with a new partner, much less a relative like her’s.
Meet me at the Rune Rail.
I had three days until I had to head to my new assignment. We’d have to make the most of that time. I quickly texted Bootstrap, asking him to work his magic to find out who the magisters were about to arrest, and where the thief was.
My phone buzzed again and I opened the new message, expecting his reply, but instead found…
ERROR
Message undeliverable.
I stopped in my tracks. Something was very, very wrong.
Thirty-One
I burst into the manor, barely noticing the blaring of the wards. Swift came in behind me, mace in hand, her magic crackling like a fire around us.
“Where would he be?” she demanded as she scanned the entryway.
“His room upstairs.”
“Go, I’ll clear down here.”
I sprinted upstairs, barely paying attention to my surroundings. I didn’t think anyone was here, and that was the problem. Normally, Bootstrap would have already been running down the stairs
apologizing about the noise and frantically trying to get his invention under control.
The door to his room stood open. I slid to a stop right in front of it and found an empty room. Clothes were strewn across the floor. His computer was in pieces and it looked like he — or someone else — had ripped the side casing off.
Bootstrap was gone.
My eyes finally landed on a folded piece of paper on his pillow. I walked over and picked it up.
I messed up. Running for it. Don’t come after me. I knew the stakes.
Bootstrap’s messy scribble was barely readable, but the note’s meaning was clear. He’d left the manor and he was on the run from the Mage’s Guild. Bootstrap was good, but I wasn’t sure how far he could make it or how long he could keep away from them.
The paper crumpled in my grip. I hadn’t understood what Atticus meant earlier, but now it was clear. He might have already had the kid when we talked. I’d been oblivious. Once again, we were a step behind.
Swift walked up behind me. “Downstairs is good. Did you find anything?”
I handed her the note without comment. She’d understand what it meant.
“Shit. He’s just a kid. He can’t—” she cut herself off with an angry shake of her head. “Do we have any way of finding him before they do?”
“I don’t know.” I pushed my hands through my hair and began pacing the room. “This is my fault. I should have told him no when he said he was going to look into Bradley’s whereabouts. I pushed him to find Purgatory.”
Swift stopped me with a hand on my arm. “We’re going to find him, and he’s going to be okay.”
“If we’re lucky. And we haven’t had much luck lately.”
My phone rang, an unknown number flashing across the screen. For a moment, I hesitated, but if there was a chance it was Bootstrap, I had to answer.
“Hello?”
“He’s already been arrested. Made a rookie mistake.”
I frowned at the unfamiliar voice. “Who is this?”
“They’ve already shipped him off to Purgatory. He’s tougher than he looks, but he hasn’t got much meat on him. He’s not gonna last in a place like that.”
