Carry basil leaves. Loose tongues twist into silence.
The air smells like burnt plastic and wet ash, a combination that turns my stomach every time I breathe in. I’m standing near the command truck, clipboard in hand, watching as my crew works to contain the fire that’s taken out three electricity poles along the eastern edge of town. The flames have died down to embers, but the danger isn’t over. Not by a long shot.
“Another sign,” Pastor Gide says, appearing at my elbow like he’s materialized from thin air. His eyes are wide, his voice trembling with that particular brand of paranoia that makes everyone in town avoid him. “The Rift is angry. It’s sending us messages.”
I force a smile. “Pastor. Just a fire. Probably caused by the surge last night. The lines were already weakened.”
He shakes his head, his silver hair catching the dim light of the emergency lanterns. “No, no, you don’t see it. This isn’t random. The Rift is punishing us for our sins. For our complacency.”
“The Rift doesn’t punish, Pastor,” I say, marking something on my clipboard. “It just is. Like gravity. Or electricity.”
“Electricity,” he scoffs, gesturing wildly at the smoldering poles. “Man’s attempt to control nature. The Rift is showing us who’s really in charge here.”
I nod because arguing with him is like trying to reason with a thunderstorm. “I’ll make sure to note that in my report.”
He narrows his eyes, suspicious. “You’re not taking me seriously.”
“I take every incident seriously, Pastor. That’s my job.” I glance past him, looking for an escape route. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to check on my crew.”
He grabs my arm, his grip surprisingly strong for a man his age. “You need to warn people, Griffin. Evacuate. Get them out before it’s too late.”
“We’re not evacuating,” I say, gently removing his hand from my arm. “We’ve got this under control.”
He shakes his head, muttering to himself as he walks away. “Fools. All of them. Blind to the truth.”
I watch him go, then turn my attention back to the fire. Soren and Beckett approach, their faces smudged with soot, their gear smelling of smoke and sweat.
“Pastor Gide giving you trouble?” Soren asks, pulling off his helmet.
“Just his usual end-of-the-world speech,” I say, closing my clipboard. “Nothing new.”
Beckett laughs, running a hand through his damp hair. “He’s not wrong about one thing. This is a mess.”
“How bad?” I ask, my eyes scanning the damage.
“Three poles down, power out to half the east side,” Soren reports. “April just called from the tavern. They’re running on candles.”
“We should probably start running generators for the places without power,” Beckett suggests. “At least for the essential businesses.”
I nod, making a note. “Good idea. Get a list together. We’ll prioritize.”
“What’s the word from the sheriff?” Soren asks, leaning against the truck. “He still out at the wards?”
“Yeah,” I confirm. “One of them failed. That’s what caused the mini surge. He’s out there now with Simon and Rory, trying to reinforce it.”
“Man, I don’t know how he does it,” Beckett says, shaking his head. “Dealing with all that Rift shit day in and day out.”
“He’s built different,” Soren mutters. “That’s for sure.”
“Sometimes I think we should just evacuate the whole damn town,” Soren continues. “Find a new place to live. Somewhere without a magical time bomb in our backyard.”
Beckett snorts. “And what would we do then? Open a flower shop? The Rift keeps us in business. Without it, we’d be out of a job.”
Soren laughs, the sound harsh in the smoky air. “True. Can’t argue with that.”
My phone buzzes, and I pull it out to see Captain Noah’s name on the screen. “Griffin here.”
“Griffin,” Noah’s voice comes through, rough with exhaustion. “How’s it looking out there?”
