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“Can I help Mr. Park cross over, or might we need him again?”
I saw confusion flash over Raj’s features.
“Ward can help him cross the Veil,” I explained. “It’s harder to summon a ghost that has already passed over, although hecan, but if we know we’ll need another statement or have more possible questions, we can ask him to stay around for a little bit.”
Raj blinked. “I—I think we can safely allow Mr. Park to… move on,” he said softly.
Ward nodded once, and the ghost disappeared. Ward closed his eyes, drawing in a couple of deep breaths, his brow furrowing and two fingers twitching on his right hand where it rested on his thigh.
Then he opened clear grey eyes again, the tightness gone from his face, and I knew he’d done exactly that.
“Thanks, Ward,” I said softly, and he nodded in response.
“Do you have the other file?” he asked Raj.
Ezra sucked in a sharp breath, the fabric of his mask pulling tight against his face. “You’re going to justdo it again?”
Ward shrugged. “I’m assuming you need to speak with both of them. Or that you’d prefer to, at any rate.” It was sort of a question.
“If you’re feeling up to it, that would be ideal,” Raj replied, allowing him an out.
The skin around Ward’s eyes crinkled as he smiled. I’d never seen him take an out in my life, even when he needed one, and I certainly didn’t expect him to take one now.
“I’m fine, thanks,” he replied smoothly.
“Shit,” Ezra whispered.
“Unless you’d like to?” Ward offered.
Ezra shook his head. “I—I get the feeling I amwayout of my depth here,” he replied, sounding a bit chagrined.
Ward seemed to take pity on him, offering a friendlier expression than he had given before. “I’m both a medium and a warlock,” he explained. “It gives me some advantages.”
“Still,” Ezra replied. “I’m used to one spirit and a long break. Some food. If I do three in a day it’s a big day.”
“That used to be me, too,” Ward replied. “And then my latent magic was… activated.” He did not go into the fact that he’d had to basically die for that to happen. I didn’t blame him, both because I’m sure it wasn’t a pleasant memory and because Doc tended to get grumpy if he went into too many details. “It took some getting used to,” Ward continued. “But it is quite useful.”
Usefulwas the understatement of the decade. He’d once gone through two hundred case files in a single, very long day. It had kicked his ass, but if you think about three versus two hundred, that should give you an idea of just how fucking badass this man was.
“Who’s next?” he asked Raj, and the shifter silently passed him another file.
* * *
Amani Hawley had been justas helpful as Daniel Park, easily identifying Shelby’s photo out of a set of three—Raj’s way of safeguarding against both unreliable witness memory and potential unconscious indicators coming from the medium. Her narrative had been more or less the same as Park’s, except that Shelby had needed to hit her three times before he managed to knock her out.
The coffee and donuts churned in my stomach thinking about it.
Nobody wants to go through what these victims experienced in the hours and minutes leading up to their deaths. And nobody should have to, especially not for the simple reason that they were both Arcanids.
When Ward had let Amani go—she had preferred to stay on this plane to watch her niece grow up—we all just sat there in silence.
Then I turned to Raj. “Tell me you’re bringing this fucker down.”
Raj nodded once. “Yes. One way or another, yes.”
I sighed. “That doesn’t sound like ayes, Hart, I’m going to march over there and throw this guy in Sing-Sing.”
Raj snorted air through his nose. “Sing-Sing is mundane,” he replied. “If Shelby is in the Antiquus Ordo Arcanum, then he is presumably not.”
