“So only supernaturals can see it?”

“Exactly.” He turned toward the street. “Come, we’re not too far from Ms. Cross’s office.”

I followed him down the busy city street, passing supernaturals of all shapes and sizes. Unlike Guild City, which looked as ancient and magical as an old teapot shooting silver stars, Magic Side looked modern and almost normal, except for the individuals who filled the streets and the cars that rushed by.

Horns and exotic features weren’t uncommon to see on passersby, and everyone’s magical signatures were on display.

“They don’t keep their signatures on lockdown, do they?” I asked.

Grey shook his head. “It’s not required here.”

“But why? Isn’t their city like ours, hidden amongst humans?”

“It’s similar, yes. Their rules are different. They consider it a First Amendment right.”

I frowned, disliking the iron control that Guild City exerted over the magical signatures of its residents. It seemed unnecessary. Magic Side was more relaxed and still managed to thrive.

We hopped on a trolley car painted red and cream with the words Magic Side Surface Lines written across the side.

I looked at the rectangular windows and leather seats. “Streetcars seem a little old fashioned, don’t they?”

Grey nodded. “Chicago phased out their trolley system in the ’40s and ’50s. Magic Side bought the old cars and kept them running. Downtown Magic Side is called the Circuit because of all the converging streetcar lines.”

I nodded as I leaned against the glass. Tall buildings whipped by, though mainly, I was paying attention to the throngs of supernaturals crowding the sidewalks.

We hopped off beside a long but narrow city park.

The green oasis was dotted with pathways and benches, inviting walkers and readers to enjoy the space. There was a small, round duck pond in the center, ringed by a walkway and flower beds. On one side of the park, an enormous neoclassical building rose several stories in the air. The heavy limestone stonework was beautiful, as was the massive set of wide stairs leading up to the columned entry and massive brass doors.

“Is that the Hall of Inquiry?” I asked.

“Yes.” He pulled a mobile from his pocket and typed in a message. “Ms. Cross will come get us soon.”

“We can’t meet her inside?”

The corner of his mouth kicked up in a small smile. “Technically, I’m not on their side of the law.”

“You mean the legal side?”

“Precisely.”

“How to you know Ms. Cross, then, if she’s an Order agent?”

“I know some people in Magic Side. It’s useful to have contacts at the Order for dealing with…” He hesitated, clearly searching for the right word. “Individuals who are like me.”

“You mean criminal kingpins.”

He shrugged elegantly and sat down on one of the stone benches beside the pond. I took a seat beside him and watched the ducks flapping their wings at each other. “I suppose you could call them that,” he said. “Chicago’s magical criminal underground predates Al Capone.”

“You mean gangsters? Like with Tommy guns and flappers on their arms?”

“Some might call them that, but it’s a bit more complicated.”

I grimaced. I’d gone a long way from Police College to associating with known criminals. “You don’t deal in guns or drugs or women, do you?”

His eyes flared with surprise. “Of course not.”

“Good.” I believed him. Mac had told me something of the sort when we’d first talked about Grey, and in all my time knowing him and visiting his headquarters, I’d never seen anything that would turn my stomach. There were plenty of ways to circumvent magical law and make a fortune that didn’t involve selling your soul.

As we waited, my mind turned back to the book I’d read last night. “You helped found Guild City.”

“Yes.”

“Care to give any details?”

“What do you want to know?”

I shrugged. “I’m not sure. Why aren't you on the Council anymore if you played such an important role in creating the city itself?”

“I don’t want to be involved. Not anymore, at least. I served for several decades when the city was getting off the ground. Though I was never close with the other members, we agreed on most things. But the years passed, and people changed, and I lost interest.”

“That was when Councilor Rasla came, right? Making the laws about the guilds and requiring everyone to join?”

He nodded. “But times were different then, and I was no longer involved.”

Sadness pulled at me. “You’ve lost every friend you’ve ever had, haven’t you?”

“Immortality has its downsides.” He gazed into the distance. A normal person might have looked sad, but Grey looked like Grey. Cold and perfect.

Slowly, I reached for his arm.

Just a little touch, enough to see if I could feel anything in him.

“It was long ago, Carrow.” He looked at my hand inching toward him, his expression knowing. “I’m fine now.”

“Are you?”

Grey

Was I?

I’d been fine then, a shadow of my former self. A statue formed of ice and cold. It kept me alive. Kept me sane.

It was only with her that I’d begun to feel, to know loneliness and longing. It was bloody uncomfortable, in fact. I resisted the desire to rub my chest.

Across the courtyard, a figure appeared on the steps. Oddly, the wind whipped at her hair, though there was no breeze to be felt. She raised a hand and waved.

Ms. Nevaeh Cross.

I stood, grateful for the distraction. “We can go now.”

Carrow joined me. “Is that her?”

“We’ll meet her around the back of the East Wing Archives.”

“Lead on.”

Carrow and I strode across the park to the alley behind the building. Ms. Cross waited for us in a shady spot along the pavement, her gaze serious. She wore slim-cut trousers and a blouse that I recognized as currently fashionable. Not that I was interested in fashion, but I tried to keep up with societal changes.

Immortals—though we were rare—were notorious for being hopelessly out of date, clinging to the past. That would never be me.

“Why are you a persistent thorn in my side, Devil?” Ms. Cross fingered a fire opal pendant hanging around her neck. It glinted red with flecks of green in the sunlight.

“Thank you for your help, as always.”

“You owe me. Again.”

“I do.” I gestured to Carrow. “Ms. Cross, this is Carrow Burton. Ms. Burton, Ms. Cross.”

Ms. Cross shook Carrow’s hand in the cheerful, friendly way of Americans. “Call me Neve.”

Carrow flinched subtly at the touch and withdrew her hand as quickly as possible. She covered the awkward moment with a warm smile that didn’t quite douse the look of concern in her eyes. “Lovely to meet you, Neve. Thank you for the help.”

Had she sensed something? Most Chicagoans weren’t subtle about their magical signatures, but Ms. Cross always seemed to have hers tamped down tight. I’d never known her species, and my curiosity was piqued.

Ms. Cross didn’t seem to notice Carrow’s reaction and gestured for us to follow. “Come on. I can sneak you in through this service entrance.”

“If it’s a risk, you can take me in, and Grey can stay outside,” Carrow said.

Ms. Cross gave me a penetrating and perhaps slightly incriminating look. “We’ll have to bend a few rules. And he has some skills that may come in handy.” She tossed us a couple of visitor badges. “I brought disguises. This is a broad-daylight infiltration. We’re not going into the high-security wing, so we shouldn’t raise too many eyebrows. We can be seen—just not by the wrong people, like an investigator. Or anyone who looks official. Or curious.”

“So…avoid everyone but the janitors.” Carrow grinned.

“Basically. Just don’t draw attention to yourselves. Let me answer any questions.”

Ms. Cross turned and led us through an unassuming steel door tucked into an alcove against the side of the building. She strode down a nondescript hall that was oddly narrow and short, given the imposing edifice. We followed her up a back stairwell lit with anemic industrial lights and down another long corridor. As we walked, Carrow leaned close to Ms. Cross and whispered, “I’m sorry to ask for more favors, but is there anyone here who might be able to determine what type of curse my friends have been hit with?”

Ms. Cross frowned. “Not here, necessarily, but I think I know someone. I can hook you up.”

“Oh God, thank you.” Carrow’s voice rang with gratitude.

We were approaching an intersection when we heard a gruff female voice shouting at someone in the adjacent hall.

“Crap, that’s my boss, Lieutenant Bitchface,” said Ms. Cross. “We don’t want to have to answer any of her questions.” She grabbed Carrow’s arm and yanked her into a room, and I darted in behind them.

Two horned trolls and half a dozen imps looked up at the commotion. One of the trolls pulled off a pair of thick reading glasses and scowled at us. “Yes? Can we help you?”

There were stacks of paper everywhere, and the room was filled with a low curtain of thick smoke. Two of the imps seemed to be fighting over an elaborate abacus.

“Hi, guys,” Ms. Cross said with a start. “How’s the number-crunching going? I…er…am showing a few visitors around the building and wanted to show them the brains of the operation. Arcane auditing, I thought, and brought them here.”

The troll narrowed his eyes. “This is very irregular. Who are the visitors?”

“Oh, just a couple of witnesses…” Ms. Cross stammered.

“Witnesses to what?”

“Well…” Smiling, she leaned in. “They witnessed some serious trespassing. On Order property, no less.”