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“You’re amazing, as always.” Pen glances back toward the body. “Can you send me the last hour of footage, too? I want to see if the black dog followed Vicki in or waited to ambush her.”
Another flutter of keys follows. “No problem.”
Pen’s shoulders relax. “Thank you.”
“Next time, make it a challenge, okay? I’m getting bored here.” The line goes dead before Pen can answer.
She tucks her phone into her pocket. “We better get a move on. The police will arrive soon.”
With a final lingering look at Vicki’s lifeless form, we hustle up the ramp, leaving the shadows of the garage behind.
The transition from the dim, underground light to the bright street outside jars my senses. I squint against the sunlight, and the late afternoon heat slaps me in the face, dispelling the chill from my skin.
Death clings to me, and I take a deep breath of forest air tinged with exhaust from the passing cars to cleanse my lungs.
As we head away from the JTFPI building, I glance at Pen and Darius to see that their expressions mirror my discomfort.
Darius’s gaze fixes on the sign for Hopper’s up ahead. “Celebrating holds less appeal now.”
Pen nods in agreement, the happiness that lightened her steps only minutes ago now gone.
Closing my eyes, I gather myself.
Pragmatic as Pen and Darius are about the situation, it still affected them. People are waiting for us at Hopper’s, though, who expect us to be in good spirits. The grim cloud that hangs over us will draw questions we can’t afford.
Releasing a long breath, I look at my partners. “We have to keep up appearances, so put smiles on your faces.”
When we reach Hopper’s, I step ahead to open the door. Laughter and conversation spill out, pushing back the guilt of walking away from Vicki’s death.
Cheers of welcome greet us, and several of my old subordinates, both from the Bone Guard and Trent’s mercenary group, raise their glasses.
With a determined stride, I walk into the restaurant and force cheer into my voice. “Looks like we’re the last to arrive, which means the next round is on us!”
I squint against the sun’s harsh light, the construction site at the cabin blurry as I attempt to bring it into focus. My head throbs, pulsating with the aftermath of too many drinks at the celebration.
The hangover is a brutal repayment for allowing my subordinates to keep buying rounds, and now the bright morning sun pounding down intensifies sharp stabs in my brain.
I already feel bad enough that Pen drove me out for my magic lessons before work today without this added torture.
It’s still a mystery how she managed to get up like it was any other day. Last night, she tossed back shots as fast as Trent could pour them.
Flint and Marc were still passed out when she kicked me out of bed at dawn and shoved me into the shower.
Syl’vyn’s sharp voice pierces through my foggy consciousness. “Push through the pain, Ga’Vine. If you can’t handle this, then you shouldn’t have bothered coming for your training.”
Not my choice. My suggestion to call off today’s class came up against my lover’s glower and lost.
With a groan, I open the aspirin container that Pen threw at me before driving away. “Give me a minute. I need to take a pain reliever.”
I reach for the water beside me, and Syl’vyn snatches it away, tossing it across the yard with a challenge in her eyes. “You want water? Use your powers to get it.”
The ache in my head intensifies, but I squint at the distant bottle. The ground grows hazy between us, and I extend my hand, focusing on the object, willing it to come to me.
My hand closes around the cool plastic, and I pull it back to myself.
Syl’vyn grunts in approval. “Good enough, if slow.”
“Thanks.” I take my pain pills, then press the bottle to my throbbing temple, seeking some relief.
