A thudding noise—running footsteps. A key clattered in the lock. I looked up at Zylas. He gazed down, daring me. Did he really think I wouldn’t do it?
His eyes narrowed.
Daimon, hesychaze.
He dissolved into red light and vanished into the infernus around my neck. The glow had just faded when the door swung open and Amalia flew inside, her face flushed and eyes bright. She waved a wad of papers, a brown envelope with its top torn open tucked under her elbow.
“I got it!” she crowed.
I pushed off the sofa. “Got what?”
“This,” she declared dramatically, holding out the papers like a trophy, “is a patent approval for a hex clothing line!”
“What? No way!” I rushed over to her, and she proudly handed the papers over, the MPD logo standing out boldly in the top corner. “Wow, this is official-looking. ‘Hex clothing, hereby defined as casual-wear garments that incorporate cantrips for the purposes of self-defense.’ That’s awesome!”
“Isn’t it?” She kicked her shoes off. “I had to prepare a whole proposal and present it to a patent official at the MPD office. They even called me back last week to explain how my hex clothing was different from wearable self-defense artifacts like medallions or bracelets. I guess I convinced them my designs deserve their own patent.”
I turned the page to find a diagram of the shield-hex sweater she’d made for me. “What does the patent mean for you?”
“MPD patents don’t stop other mythics from copying you, but if anyone sells anything that falls under my patent, they have to pay me a cut.” She sat on a bar stool, an excited grin stretching her cheeks. “Now that my design is protected, I can start approaching guilds to sell to them.”
“I can’t believe you did all this—all while we were dealing with Claude and sorcerers and stolen grimoire pages. You even went to the MPD?”
She grimaced. “Yeah. I was so nervous. My dad hammered it into us as kids to never draw MagiPol’s attention, but I figured I could chance it. It’s not like we were ever suspected of any crimes, and even then, the patent office is—well, it’s in the same building as the agents and investigators, but it’s on a different floor. So there’s no reason at all that—”
Bang bang.
We looked at the door. A loud knock sounded again, and cold foreboding settled over me like a winter chill. It couldn’t be …
“Who is it?” Amalia shouted, her hand clenched around her patent papers.
“MPD,” a male voice called, muffled by the wood. “Open the door.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Amalia’s jaw dropped with horror. So did mine.
Pulling herself together, she strode to the door and wrenched it open. Two people stood on the other side: dark-haired, bauble-decorated abjuration expert Lienna Shen and her tall, handsome partner, Kit Morris.
“Agent Shen,” Lienna said brusquely, flashing her badge. “This is Agent Morris. May we come in?”
The agent might’ve been asking politely, but it was clear she didn’t need our permission. Amalia silently stepped back.
Lienna strode into our apartment, and Kit strolled in after her, glancing curiously around our home. Almost too quiet to hear, he was humming to himself. That tune … was it the Friends theme song?
“Amalia Harper?” Lienna confirmed. At Amalia’s nod, the agent turned to me. “And Robin Page, of course.”
“Is there a problem?” I asked cautiously.
“We’re following up on last night’s report.”
Report? What report?
“MPD procedure requires we interview all relevant parties in bounty cases involving one or more deaths.” She opened the folder she held. “As reported by Ezra Rowe at 11:23 last night, the Crow and Hammer’s official investigation into the suspicious deaths of human civilians Georgina Brandis, May Carter, and Yana Deneva required a guild team, which comprised Ezra, Robin, and Amalia, to track three suspects to the SeaDevils’ guild. There, you interrupted the suspects in the midst of conducting unknown Arcana. They resisted capture and were killed in the ensuing battle.”
Her sharp gaze rose to me. “Is that correct?”
“Yes,” I said quickly, and Amalia nodded.
“Normally, we would question you in more detail about how those events played out, but”—she tapped the papers in her folder—“you and Amalia have not yet submitted your reports. I expect those within forty-eight hours.”
I bobbed my head earnestly.
“We’re still recovering evidence from the crime scene—”
“—which has been tricky,” Kit added unexpectedly, “seeing as how the helipad is under twenty feet of water.”
My mouth fell open. I snapped it shut. “Oh. Yes, of course.”
“We aren’t entirely clear on how the platform sank,” Lienna added, her assessing gaze on me. “Ezra speculated in his report that the suspects’ unknown spell damaged it.”
“My thought too,” I lied.
Lienna noted that in her folder. “As for the unidentified remains found in the water—”
“I only know the sorcerers’ first names,” I interrupted nervously. “We didn’t—”
“Not those remains.” Kit arched an eyebrow. “The other remains.”
“Reconstructing the suspects’ array on the platform may be impossible.” Lienna snapped her folder closed. “But our preliminary findings suggest the reptilian remains belong to some kind of fae.”
“Fae?” I blurted.
Kit fixed those bright blue eyes on me. “Definitely fae.”
“You agree, don’t you, Miss Page?” Lienna was also giving me an intent look.
I blinked. “Y-yes. Of course. Fae.”
“Good,” she said primly. “Make sure that’s included in your report. You don’t need to add any speculation on the array carved into the platform. It’s too damaged to reconstruct.”
“Fae beasty, no guesses on what that spell was for,” Kit summarized, glancing between Amalia and me. “Let’s not stress our poor overworked MagiPol boss-people with any mentions of portals and otherworldly monsters, mmkay?”