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He shook hands with Donnelly. Gabriella, Alicia, and Rowan all gave him a hug.

“Just another day, saving the world,” Gabriella joked. “Let us know if you need us again.”

Vic and Simon stood arm in arm and waved as Alicia and Rowan drove away, and the other two went back inside.

Simon turned to his husband. “Thank you for saving my life.”

Vic grinned. “That’s why I insisted on being here. Glad to do it.” He glanced back toward the hotel. “Now what?”

Simon felt a surge of relief that left him nearly boneless. “I need to let Sanderson know it’s safe to come back once Gabriella and Donnelly are finished. We agreed to leave the spellcasting room open, and once the storage room is cleansed, it can go back to holding mops and buckets. After all that, I’m going to sleep for a week.”

Epilogue

Vic

“That’s quite a story,” Ross said when Vic returned to the office a day later. Vic had already given Captain Hargrove a much-abbreviated version, letting him know that his decision to let Vic be part of the effort had factored in its success.

“I’m hoping we don’t make a habit of it, but it was definitely one for the record books.” Vic was glad to be back at his desk. He gulped his coffee and willed it to settle into his tired body.

“Ever wonder how many other beings there are like that out there? You said they’re specifically local to a particular place,” Ross asked. “Must be dozens, maybe hundreds⁠—”

“Shut up. Don’t you dare mention that to Simon. You’re probably right, but we did our duty. There are other ghostbusters out there. Let them do some of the work.”

Ross grinned, and Vic knew his partner had made the comment just to get a reaction. “Just wondering.”

“Well, stop,” Vic countered. “There are always enough problems locally to keep us busy for a long time.”

Vic had already written up a carefully worded, highly edited report since it was in the official record that he was present at the scene when the firefighters arrived. He stuck close to the story he had given the hose truck crew, that he and Simon had seen the smoke and went to help, leaving Gabriella, Rowan, Alicia, and Donnelly completely out of the account.

He hoped that would satisfy official reporting requirements, since he had no intention of trying to explain the real situation and doubted he would be believed if he did.

Vic yawned and finished his coffee in two gulps, rising to get a refill. Neither he nor Simon slept soundly, and he didn’t think they would for quite a while. The tumult of emotions felt to Vic like the aftermath of an on-duty shooting or major bust. While he didn’t second-guess any of their actions or fault his own response, his mind insisted on playing out scenarios that didn’t end happily. Those were at least as plausible as what actually occurred, and some of them seemed more likely.

They’d been lucky—again. Vic didn’t take that luck for granted, no matter how much magic or preparation went into the fight. He also knew it wouldn’t be the last time.

“What about the Ocean Visions Hotel? Can it reopen?” Ross asked.

Vic didn’t doubt that his story was much more interesting than the unfinished paperwork on his partner’s desk. “Sanderson had to have safety inspectors recheck the areas that were affected by the ‘unexplained’ fires from when the fire salamander and spirit were dealt with, but the repairs are coming along well. The containment cell has been bricked over and hidden, sealed with spells. It should go back to the way it had been. The spellcasting room is cleansed and will be repainted and ready for the witches to use when needed, and the supply room will be cleaned up now that the murder investigation about Madame Mason is over.”

“Is Simon okay?” Ross sounded genuinely worried.

“He will be,” Vic said with a little more certainty than he sometimes felt. His husband was a survivor, and he admired Simon’s courage and grit. They had dangerous jobs and worried about each other, but both of them felt pride in being able to make a difference. “It’s like any on-the-job incident; it takes time to get over.”

“On the bright side, there haven’t been any more of the random fires since you did the hocus-pocus at the hotel,” Ross noted. “Hopefully that means the threat is really over.”

“Fingers crossed,” Vic murmured.

“With Madame Mason’s body accounted for, that missing person case is closed. They’re saying the cause of death is heart failure and burns of unknown origin, but not suggesting foul play,” Ross said. “You’re quite an overachiever.”

“Yeah, right,” Vic replied. “Did we ever get any more word about the missing magician from the Carnival?”

“You mean Vedmak the Necromancer? Yeah, this came in while you were busy.” Ross slid an interoffice envelope to Vic, who opened it to find a letter from US Customs and Border Patrol.

“Says here that he was traced to Belarus and is assumed to have crossed into Russia illegally from there. After that, details get scarce, but the Russians claim he was killed in a recent car crash and was cremated. They don’t plan to repatriate the ashes,” Vic summarized, scanning down the lines of type. “Nothing suspicious about that at all,” he added sarcastically.

“Not. Our. Problem,” Ross reminded him.

Vic raised his coffee cup in a mock toast. “Skol.”