Page 27 of The Shade of Things
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Zev had been extremelyclear that I was not to discuss this with anyone, so I couldn’t ask Tatiana where she’d originally found the Ascendant. What about the person she’d stolen it from? Could they have enlisted my parents to get it back from her and were once more in possession of it? Possibly, but I had no idea how to find that individual.
My best course of action was to take Arlo’s final statement as a clue to the Ascendant’s whereabouts—albeit a cryptic one because seriously, what other kind was there in my life—and solve it.
Since I had another forty-five minutes until my meeting with Zev, I decided to touch base with Ryann about our missing person case. I spent the drive to the Park riffing off the quote in hopes that it sparked something.
It was a beautiful September day and I flipped into autopilot, amassing and dismissing a lot of ideas. Brutus killed Caesar because of a commitment to the well-being of Rome. Was there something about the Ascendant that aligned it with causes? Big-picture beliefs that its owners worked toward?
I rolled down my window to let in fresh air because traffic was gridlocked and I was stifling in the standstill. Finally, I was able to veer onto the exit for Stanley Park, and I zipped under the small stone bridge, coming out in the hidden space of the Park.
Slowing down along the narrow dirt road, I inhaled warm fresh air, rich with notes of earth, cedar, and old growth forest, which always reminded me of Laurent. I filled my lungs, savoring it.
Sun caressed my skin, and birds lazily swooped between cedars with fat knobby trunks, hemlocks laden with flat glossy needles, and cottonwood trees in glowing shades of gold. I shaded my eyes, basking in the beauty for a moment longer. Magic could be awful, but it was equally awe-inducing.
Eli would have preferred I first speak with Tatiana about the game. As a fixer to the magic community, my boss might have heard rumors, but she wasn’t part of the Human Race herself. If she had, she’d know about the kidnappings and never have allowed me to investigate this case.
As the head Lonestar, however, Ryann had to have concrete intel since this game was a threat to the prime directive.
The trees pressed in more closely once I turned onto the bumpy road leading to the small parking lot, their canopy barring all but the most tenacious beams of sunlight. If the pristine forest wasn’t enough to hammer home the magic of this territory, then Lonestar HQ did the trick.
A treehouse complex built on brown metal struts shaped like trunks, their headquarters branched off to support buildings fronted with wooden shingles, while foliage peeked out of every crack and cranny. Angled solar panels on the roof drew sunlight, and the windows were tinted to reflect the sky.
I strode through the archway carved into a huge hollow tree, trailing my fingers along the spongy deep green moss on the bark and tiny red and purple flowers growing twined around the staircase railing. My first time here, my sense of wonder had been drowned by a tight knot of fear because I’d been hauled in to “chat” about a murder case that one particular Lonestar was convinced I’d committed.
I’d cleared my name and proven myself enough times that coming here now only filled me with whimsy.
Pulling open the front door, I was hit with the scent of pine from the Douglas fir growing up through the lobby. I strode past the glossy framed portraits of previous chapter heads, stopping by reception to request a meeting with Ryann.
None of the magic cops wore uniforms or had any designation, other than Ryann’s leader status. An officer in a smart sheath dress and strappy heels escorted me along a series of covered walkways, descending deeper and deeper into the building. She bore the familiar Lonestar tattoo of a six-pointed gold star on her wrist, which resembled a spur rather than a Star of David.
She tapped out texts with French manicured nails. I’d looked like her when I worked as a law librarian—well groomed, wrinkle free, but with feet that constantly hurt.
“Shapewear sucks, huh?” I smiled at her.
She glanced up from her screen. “Amen to that. I hate it but with this outfit?” She shook her head. “I’d look like a sausage otherwise. I just love the dress so much.”
“You look great.”
“Thank you.” She rapped on a door with the word “Morgue” stenciled on it.
I swallowed down my nausea. Arlo and a morgue on the same day? Oh no, universe, I really couldn’t.
“I can wait—” The door swung open, and my stomach heaved in anticipation, but I didn’t smell bleach. Or worse. “Hey, Ryann.”
“Miri!” Big blue eyes blinked at me, then she grinned. She’d shaved her head down to a half inch of stubble dyed blue and purple. I would look like a deformed Easter egg, but she rocked the do. She bobbed a curtsy, swaying out her tie-dyed skirt. “Come in.”
“Love the hair.” Odd. I expected more resistance to this visit.
The female officer said bye and went on her way.
I took a deep breath and locked down professional Miri mode, following Ryann into the dead person zone.
“Hi, Gerald.” I’d met the coroner in the wrinkled scrubs on a previous case involving a dybbuk. Which apparently was also the case here, given the red streaks on the waxy skin of the male corpse on the metal table.
“Do I not get a greeting, Mitzi?”
My heart lodged in my throat, I slowly turned to Laurent, who was slumped in a chair in the corner, dancing a coin between his fingers.
