Page 37 of Roaring Spell

“The episodes clustered around specific locations.” I resist fidgeting under his assessment. “Once I realized the pattern was geographic rather than emotional, the search area narrowed.”

“Clever.” Grudging. “Why didn’t you report earlier?”

“Because until today, I thought I was the source.” My voice steadies. “It’s difficult to report evidence when you believe you’re causing what you’re seeing.”

Rhodes glances up. “This is circumstantial. We need more data before⁠—”

“Data?” Aslan cuts him off. “There’s a magical weapon draining our protections. How much more data do you need?”

“Proper documentation. Chain of custody. Verified sources. Protocol exists for reasons, and those reasons are⁠—”

“The Warding Line is weakening while you fill out forms.” Aslan’s voice carries a growl underneath. “People could die, Rhodes. Our families. Our territory.”

“Emotion doesn’t replace procedure⁠—”

“Gentlemen.” Caius’s voice silences them both. “We have a siphon. We have a pattern. We have a witness who can sense distortions our trained investigators missed.” His gaze finds me, assessing. “That’s enough to proceed.”

Torin shifts beside me. Not quite stepping forward, but making his presence felt.

“The siphon uses coven materials.” Anouk’s tone sharpens. “I recognized the crystalline structure from my own inventory. Those components require official requisition.”

“We have a traitor.” Caius’s jaw tightens. “With coven access. Knowledge of our infrastructure. Someone trusted.”

“Not a traitor, dear.”

Everyone turns.

Grandmother Peach sits in a chair that wasn’t there a moment ago, tea cradled in her hands.

“How did you—” Caius starts.

“A believer.” She sips delicately. “Much more dangerous. Traitors can be reasoned with. Believers are certain they’re right.”

“A believer in what?” I step forward.

“Old stories. Old fears.” She rises, moving toward the door with surprising grace. “The Preservers have whispered about the old ways for generations. About what was lost when the familiar system replaced older magics.”

“What magics?” Anouk’s voice sharpens.

But Grandmother Peach is already gone.

Caius stares at the empty spot. “How does she do that?”

“We’ve been asking for decades.” Anouk pinches her nose. “The coven’s oldest records mention a Matchmaker Peach from three hundred years ago. Same descriptions.”

“That’s impossible.”

“And yet.”

Elio speaks for the first time, voice smooth as shadow. “The Preservers have been quiet for years. If they’re mobilizing again...” He trails off meaningfully.

“Then we need to find the other siphons before they find us. This one can’t be the only one.”

“A living detection system.” Elio’s gaze finds me. “That could be useful.”

“She’s not a tool.” Torin’s voice carries an edge I haven’t heard before. “She’s a person.”

“I didn’t say⁠—”