Emotional support ghost dogs were the best. They didn’t judge when you were still dressed in yoga pants and sporting a messy bun well into the afternoon. And for the first time ever, I’d skipped my classes and hid like a hermit in my dorm room.
Rain drizzled down the windowpane while I ate instant ramen from a cardboard cup. Loki was curled up by my feet, hovering on the edge of my bed. Every once in a while, he snored himself awake, perking up to scan the room for threats.
Two days later, and I was still processing everything. My mother had taken the news as expected: she was horrified by what had happened to Ivy and equally horrified by my new position. She blamed herself for not taking the training more seriously. Apparently, if she ever dreamed this would happen, she would have sent me away to camp.Whatever that means.And it wasn’t as if we could have afforded to send me anywhere other than the playground, so it wouldn’t have made a difference.
Either way, I should expect a package. If it wasn’t a box full of extra lucky rabbits’ feet, I didn’t want it. It was probably going to be more candles to add to the unburned collection in my closet.
The entire town was talking about Professor Roberts’ death. An article had been published in the local paper and was reposted to the university’s website. A school-wide memorial was being planned in her honor. According to the paper, the police had finished their investigation and closed the case. Her death was nothing but a tragic accident. An unfortunate series of events that would likely be settled with insurance and private lawsuits.
However, I had stumbled across a few rumors in the comments section of the online article. Not everyone believed the accident narrative. None of them were good leads though. A jealous lover. A Nigerian prince email scam gone horribly wrong. Someone with a ridiculous username even claimed they’d heard from a friend of a friend that Professor Roberts was involved with smuggling exotic birds and her death had been a hit job. Now, that was just crazy. Even crazier than demons.
I punched the pillow behind my head and tossed my tablet to the side. No more jumping through Internet rabbit holes, even if they were the perfect distraction from my strange new existence.
I’d gone an entire hour without thinking about Ivy or my infuriatingly handsome new partner. Was it weird that I was eager to hear from Caden? We hadn’t had any contact since I left the manor. Did he even have my number? It wasn’t like there was some kind of Spellwork phone tree.
My phone lay silent beside me. I’d made an effort to get the screen fixed and keep the thing charged. I’d done my part, so why didn’t it ring?
“Stop looking at me like that,” I said to Loki, who’d woken from his ghost nap. “This is not the same thing as waiting for a man to call about a date; this is business. It’s less desperate.”
Loki snorted and rested his furry chin on his paws. He didn’t look convinced.
The phone chimed, and I lurched to pick it up. My cup of ramen tipped, spilling noodles down my front. There was little dignity in my actions, and I refused to meet Loki’s gaze.
So much for being less desperate.
“Oh, hey, it’s you,” I said, answering the video call.
“Don’t sound too excited or anything.” Tanya held the phone up to her face and shouted into the line. “I can’t believe I had to hear the news about Ivy secondhand! Why didn’t you call me?”
I sighed and slumped farther under the covers. “I don’t know. It’s a lot to process. It doesn’t feel real.”
“It’s real, Elle, and I’m sorry. I know you and Ivy weren’t as close as you were when you were kids, but you always looked up to her.”
“Everyone idolized her. It was impossible not to.” My throat clogged, and I fought against a surge of tears. There was no way off this emotional roller coaster. The damn thing just kept looping around. “I don’t know what I’m doing, T. Everyone expects me to jump into her shoes and rise to the occasion like some witchy phoenix. It’s laughable.”
“It’s not laughable. You’re smart, Elle. You’ll figure it out. And you’re not alone. You have a team now.”
A snort bubbled in my throat. Should I tell her about my historical specter or the emotional support ghost dog? Maybe I should lead with my mysterious partner, who would probably throw me in front of a demon the first chance he got.
I chewed on the side of my cheek as an idea formed. “Actually, T, I need your help.”
“Of course. Whatever you need.”
“It’s about my partner. He’s a transfer from another division out west. I’m not sure which one, but maybe somewhere near you. His name’s Caden Bishop.”
Tanya wrinkled her brow, not placing the name. “Haven’t heard of him. Why did he transfer?”
“That’s what I want to find out. They won’t let me see his file. It’s suspicious. Do you think you can dig around, see if you can come up with anything?”
“Sure. I have a few connections that might help. I’ll let you know if I hear something.”
“Thanks, and try to keep it quiet if you can. I don’t want anyone tracing it back to me. The last thing I need is for Caden to find out and end up hating me more than he already does.”
Tanya scoffed and waved a hand in front of the camera. “I doubt he hates you. He hasn’t known you long enough. Give him a week at least.”
“Ha, ha. I’m friends with a comedian. It’s complicated though. I don’t understand him. It’s like one second he’s cold as ice . . . and the next . . .”
“Whoa. Are you blushing? Tell me that’s some new video filter and not you crushing on your partner.”
