Page 7 of Spring L.A.W.
Heads turned toward her.
“You read the dossier,” Joell said, impressed.
“I’m new, not stupid,” Brianna said. “And also deeply concerned.”
“You should be,” Magda said. “He’s no joke. If Payne’s poking around, we’re already on borrowed time.”
“Okay,” Rayna said, rubbing her temples. “So that’s two ticking clocks: Major X-Files and Mystery Creeper in a trench coat watching us from across the street.”
“He didn’t follow us,” Michael added. “But he watched. Not casual. Not curious. More like studying and calculating.”
“Could be Payne’s contact,” Joell said. “Or someone watchinghim.”
“Or a familiar in glamor form,” Sahara offered. “I’ve seen one like that before. Stiff posture, inhuman stillness. Felt more like a cursed mannequin than a mummy.”
“Charming,” Rayna muttered.
Joell stood and walked to the center of the room. “Okay, listen up. We’re going proactive on this. If Payne’s nosing around, we tighten protocols. No flashy spell work in public. Travel in pairs. Keep glamors strong. No slip-ups.”
“Looking at you, Lioness,” Victoria said sweetly.
“It was one exploding eclair,” Lioness replied. “And it wasdeliciousto watch.”
A few chuckles. Even the remote witches cracked small smiles.
“Here’s the play,” Joell said. “We split the team. Michael, Rayna, and Daniel, you keep tabs on Payne. Don’t let him sniff out too much, andtrynot to provoke him, Rayna. I know you love dressing down authority figures. Brianna, you’re with the archive crew. You need more context on Payne and the ops he was tied to.”
Brianna nodded, trying not to look too eager.
“Magda,” Joell continued, “pull facial recon—or non-faces, from Rayna’s mystery man. Run it through international witch-hunter databases, cursed familiars, anything recent out of the Southern Hemisphere.”
“On it,” Magda said.
“Sahara, cross-reference any Middle Eastern chatter. If a figure like that’s been spotted near any supernatural sites, I want to know.”
Sahara gave a nod, her fingers already moving over a keyboard just out of view.
“And Victoria,” Joell said, turning to the screen. “Listen for noise from NATO’s magical oversight. If Payne starts filing unofficial reports, I want to intercept before it escalates.”
“Copy that,” Victoria said, sipping from a glass of red wine. “I’ll keep my ears and magical surveillance open.”
Joell paused, taking a breath. “Alright. This isn’t DEFCON 1 yet. But I want everyone to operate like we’re being watched. Because we probably are.”
Rayna leaned over to Brianna and whispered, “Hope you like paranoia.”
Brianna whispered back, “I thought I was joining a support group for powerful witches. I didn’t know it came with paranoia, surveillance, and secret agents.”
“Oh, honey,” Rayna grinned. “Thatisthe support group.”
Fort Hamilton wasn’t builtfor subtlety. Nestled at the southwestern edge of Brooklyn like a forgotten chess piece, it sat behind iron gates and reinforced checkpoints, a slab of government authority overlooking the Verrazzano Bridge. Inside, it smelled like waxed linoleum, burnt coffee, and the eternal echo of barked orders.
Major Adam Payne moved down the basement corridor of the Covert Operations Wing, boots clicking in time with the dull throb of fluorescent lights overhead. The hallway was a straight-line study in beige bureaucracy. Walls were adorned with faded motivational posters and framed commendations no one had looked at in years. Somewhere down the hall, a printer coughed out paper like it was dying slowly, and two soldiers chatted in low voices over instant ramen and paperwork.
He reached Room 017 and knocked once before entering.
The office was cold. The government-issue HVAC system ran too hard in March and sporadically in July. The air carried the sterile bite of industrial cleaner, like the whole room had been scrubbed of secrets recently.
Opposite the door sat a man in a charcoal suit that he must have purchased many years ago, paired with a tie that screamed, “My kid picked this out.” He held a black data pad and the kind of pen you couldn’t buy in stores, military-grade, standard issue for people who liked notes that could self-destruct.
