When Kieran had first noticed it, he’d thought Valens was making a statement to him personally, but it had apparently been going on for six years or more. His father was eccentric. There was no two ways about it.

A strange buzz washed over his skin, making him pause. It only lasted a fraction of a second before sliding away, but it was strange enough that he glanced back out the window. Something disrupted the familiar currents of the air magic—strange colors and odd blotches, woven into it. The air drape stilled and, because of that, mostly disappeared.

A burst of feeling unfurled in his middle, the actual emotion unintelligible, but the strength of it undeniable. He paused, waiting for more, when his phone vibrated against his desk.

Zorn: She’s in the magical government building.

Kieran stood in a rush, and like rusty hinges given grease, his thoughts started to collect. Slowly at first, laboriously, but then in a rush.

She’d talked to a spirit here. It was here she’d first learned about what Valens was doing.

She had returned to the source, seeking more information.

He turned his head slowly, directing his gaze out the window.

Alexis had alluded to there being a spirit trap over the building.

Over the whole building.

In a daze, he crossed to the window, and slowly put out his hand. The buzzing he’d felt a moment ago ran across his skin like ants. Air magic didn’t usually elicit that effect, and then there were those strange colors and patches...

He’d never seen the patches before today, or felt the buzzing.

He’d never been able to see ghosts before today, either. But he’d seen three in the building on his way to his office. Two old people and a teenager picking at a sweater button.

Tingles spread through his body.

The answer had been drifting by his window every couple weeks.

The air drape wasn’t Valens’s way of marking his territory. Nor had it been put there as a warning. It somehow carried the magic of a Ghost Whisperer, or some other spirit magic, creating a prison for the spirits inside.

Like flicking on a light in the pitch dark, suddenly he could see.

Kieran remembered something that happened soon after he set up an office in this building. One of Valens’s Elite had been murdered. A crime of passion, people had thought, pinpointing a scorned lover. The clues had overwhelmingly pointed to the lover’s guilt. The case was closed in no time.

But a few days later, miraculously, the suspected murderer had been released. In his place, they arrested a mundane looking guy who had previously lived in a rental on the periphery of town, minding his own business, with a temp admin job in the magical government building. He’d already given his notice, and was ready to head out of town.

Unbeknownst to literally everyone, he was a spy.

Under the pressure of Kieran’s father, the spy had cracked, spilling all of his secrets.

The guy had knocked off dozens of high-profile professionals in his day. He was responsible for toppling the magistrate of Scotland, for forcing the Demigod of Paris to renege on an agreement, and for exposing the illegal trade of magical beasts between the South Africans and Russians.

There had been virtually no clues. No evidence to lead Valens and his team to make that arrest. It wasn’t the first time Valens had pulled off a seemingly impossible coup, sending the world a message: I’m immune to even the best. Nothing can take me down.

Kieran shook his head slowly, incredulous, as he fitted the pieces together.

Valens always got his mark because he never lost a spirit to the Line and the protections of whatever lay beyond it. The dead became their own eyewitnesses. Before the shock and memories from the traumatic event could evaporate, the brain’s natural coping mechanism, his lackeys would move the spirit of the murdered person into another body so they could recount their own murder.

Genius.

Alexis had helped Kieran uncover another chink in his father’s chainmail: his father didn’t know the unknowable at all. He wasn’t any more insightful than any other expertly trained and experienced Demigod…he just knew how to collect information from the dead. And soon, when Kieran found the originator of the spirit trap, he’d wipe out his father’s neat little trick.

Reality seeped back in. The gravity of the situation blared through the quiet room.

The spirit trap had just been set. That meant the creator—or creators, since clearly an air elemental had laid the foundation—were on the premises. He’d felt it, which meant Alexis must’ve felt it, too.

Bria never ran from a fight. Never. Alexis had courage in spades, and wouldn’t leave a comrade behind.

Those women would go after the magical workers responsible for the spirit trap. Maybe they were already going after them. He knew it as well as he knew his own name. The problem was, if that air elemental was in any way trained—and he had to assume that was the case since draping a building this size was no easy feat—the ladies would be outgunned. Alexis didn’t know how to fight with her magic, and Bria could only take on an air elemental in close combat. Put any space between them, and that elemental would toss her like a tumbleweed.

He jogged toward the door. If he didn’t find one of the parties before they found each other, the ladies might not come out of the altercation alive.

36

Alexis

“We got ’em!” Bria shooed the large, wire-tailed rat in front of her, grinning from ear to ear. “I told you these guys were good.”

My heart pounded and blood rhythmically thrushed in my ears. I hurried behind Bria across a well-appointed hall and through swinging doors with scrapes on the sides. The lavish furnishings fell away, replaced by off-white walls lined with metal racks. We darted to the right down a service hall, able to move faster now that well to-do people weren’t paying attention.

Bria took another turn, following her rat. Squeaking rose up from a crack I hadn’t noticed, and a different rat darted out.

I jumped to the side as it dashed between my feet and up to its friend. “Gross!”

“It’s just a ghost-powered furry creature, Alexis, honestly.” Bria slowed with the rats, reaching another swinging door, this one a little off-kilter and in need of repair. She stopped beside it and pushed the door a little, peeking out. “Looks like they’re heading for the side exit, closest to the East parking lot. Good. They aren’t checking in with Valens.”

“If they’ve been doing this for a while, there would be no reason to.” I pushed up against her to peer out, then flinched back when a furry body ran over my foot. “These things better not have diseases.”

“Nah. The diseases die with the rodent.” She stiffened. “Actually, I don’t know if that’s true. I should probably look into that. Sometimes they get ornery and bite.”

“You could’ve just called them back and let them stay as spirits. Then we could’ve actually spoken to them.”

“You could’ve spoken to them. I would’ve just stood around with my thumb up my butt, hoping you’d fill me in. Okay.” She pushed through the door. “Come on.”

My phone vibrated in my pocket, but Bria put on the jets just then, her legs churning as she weaved in and out of people meandering through the hall, so I couldn’t do much more than brush my hand against the fabric containing it. The smell of food and clank of dishes became more pronounced as we reached a large opening. A cafeteria. People idled outside, chatting or holding their snacks or lunches, no one glancing at us as we passed. Vending machines with drinks and sugary sweets hugged the wall opposite us, and a large area covered in circular tables spanned out on the other side.

Bria took a right, away from the cafeteria, as someone screamed behind us. Another person yelled. The third rat joined us, catching up with the other two leading the way.

My phone vibrated again, shaking against my thigh. Bria slowed, approaching another corner, before resuming an unassuming stroll. I followed her lead, immediately recognizing the men from earlier, side-by-side with their nice suits, as we turned. If they had any friends in the building, they clearly hadn’t stopped to talk.

“Okay. We’re just going to chat like girlfriends and follow their lead,” Bria murmured, smiling for show. A double door waited at the end of the corridor. “This entrance has a camera that covers the doorway, but nothing beyond that for about twenty feet. After that, a camera looks out at the first couple rows of cars, where the important people have their spaces reserved. Hopefully you’re right and these guys aren’t important. After that, no cameras.”

“We can’t very well hog-tie them in the middle of the parking lot,” I said, looking at the ground because I didn’t know where else to look.

“I have a roomy trunk. It’ll be great.”

The black-haired guy pushed the door open, the metal bar clinking as it compressed. Light sliced through the doorway. The red-haired guy waited for his friend to exit, turning to glance back at us as he did. His gaze slid by Bria, touched me, and then stuck.

“Damn you and that face,” Bria murmured before turning my way and chuckling a little. She raised her voice. “I actually hate roast duck. It’s super greasy.”

“I’ve never had it,” I said honestly, directing my gaze at the wall.

But why would I look at the wall? Surely that would seem odd.

I shifted my gaze to my feet as the light at the end of the corridor dimmed. The door thunked closed.

“Hurry, hurry, hurry.” Bria jogged to the end before stalling for a moment, glancing down at the rats waiting by her side. “Stall them, if you can,” she said to them. Then she looked up at me and said, “Another reason for bodies. Other people can see them.”

“Like the people in a cafeteria, yeah,” I muttered.

She pushed the door wide and let me go first before following, shielding her hand against the light. Well-tended bushes, budding with yellow flowers, lined the paved sidewalk leading up a gentle slope to the corner of the parking lot. The guys angled to the side, passing the first row of expensive vehicles.