Page 3 of Autumn L.A.W

“Absolutely not,” Sahara said. She was tempted to lecture him about how different archaeologists with a specialty in Egyptology are from geologists, but would it matter?

The jogger blinked, decided that was an acceptable answer, and kept moving.

Sahara inhaled slowly, letting the magic settle. Earth magic was predictable, reliable… well, usually. Today, the ground felt like it was trying too hard to get her attention.

She dusted off her hands and stood. “Okay. Lioness should be back by now. How long does it take to ask a fire captain about why they were setting up a barrier? Unless she stopped to pet a butterfly or join a spontaneous modern dance performance.”

A breeze stirred at Sahara’s back.

“Oh, please,” she said to the empty path. “Don’t be dramatic, wind. I have enough drama coming.”

Her phone buzzed. A message from Chad.

“Any sign of secondary activity? Do NOT go down a hole alone.”

Sahara rolled her eyes. “I wasn’t planning on spelunking before breakfast.”

She was about to send a begrudgingly professional update when a faint groan split the quiet morning air, sounding like the shift of stone forced against stone.

The fissure widened by a full inch.

Sahara’s breath stalled. “That’s bad.”

Magic prickled across her arms. She knelt again, tracing the glyphs emerging on the exposed rock. They were ancient, jagged, and furious.

“Definitely not natural,” she whispered. “Definitely not friendly.”

Behind her, sirens wailed in the distance. Probably responding to the scene that Lioness had insisted on investigating. Sahara pinched the bridge of her nose.

“She’s either already in trouble or already causing trouble,” she said. “Figures.”

The earth throbbed again—hard.

Sahara braced a hand against the ground. “Okay, enough! Stay closed. Stay dormant. Just stay⁠—”

The fissure pulsed, hot this time.

Sahara hissed under her breath. “Lioness, I swear to every deity I can name… Where ARE you?”

Because whatever was clawing its way up through Central Park had woken early.

And Sahara really, really did not want to face it without the Disaster Child illustrating what they were up against. She sighed, hoping the ward she cast would be enough to hold it at bay a little longer. If something were to happen, she wanted one of her L.A.W. sisters here with her. ANY of them.

Lioness Graves had meant to find out what was going on and go straight back to Central Park. She really had. She’d even promised Sahara she wouldn’t ‘wander off or emotionally adopt anyone.’ But then the ground trembled beneath her boots, a sharp tug—instinct and something more—pulling her toward the nearest side street.

Dust climbed the sky in a gray pillar. A chunk of a mixed-use building had collapsed inward. Sirens wailed. Firefighters scrambled. Civilians gathered in a restless knot behind barriers.

And beneath it all, Lioness felt a flicker of fear. A heartbeat straining. A dropped flashlight. A cramped space.

Someone was alive under there. “Shit,” she said, jogging toward the destruction.

Sahara caught up a few minutes later, irritation sharp enough to cut glass. “Lioness! We are supposed to be— Oh.” She stopped short as the wrecked building came into view. “Okay, wow. That’s… not small.”

“There’s someone trapped,” Lioness said. “Basement level. Back right corner.”

Sahara didn’t question it. She knew exactly what kind of “intuition” Lioness had. “Fine. But don’t⁠—”

Lioness was already moving.