The next morning I was sitting in a coffee shop, staring with bleary eyes at the cup in front of me.

“Do you think Igor knows how to make real coffee?” I asked. “I mean, stuff like this?”

“That is not real coffee,” Darius said. “That is about as far away from real coffee as it’s allowed to be before labeling laws would require them to change the name. Emerra, I don’t think you even know what real coffee looks like.”

If we were defining “coffee” as the stuff you got by introducing hot water to ground beans, the vampire had a pretty good argument. It always came to me disguised. Preferably disguised as dessert.

I glanced at the vampire’s cup. It lacked not only sprinkles, but the whipped cream the sprinkles were supposed to go on.

I felt bad for him, so I decided to change the subject.

“Darius, what makes you so sure we’re looking for a witch?”

The count had been staring into space, but he turned to look at me. “Most magicians would be able to break into a police station if they had to, but only a witch can alter people’s memories.”

“How does that work? Isn’t magic, magic?”

“Magic is the raw power that most magicians work with. A witch’s magic is natural. They only have to channel it. A sorcerer or alchemist has to use tools to gather and manipulate magic. It’s like using a hammer and saw to shape wood while a witch can grow the tree any way they want. You would know if a sorcerer had been trying to mess with your head. There wouldn’t be much left of it.”

“And you think a witch broke into the police station?”

“Those fingerprints would have placed someone at the crime scene at the time of the murder—there isn’t a detective alive that would have forgotten about them. Someone changed Moran’s memory and removed every reference of those prints from the file.” Vasil lifted his head and looked toward the front of the store. “Uhler’s here.”

The vampire had insisted that we sit in the back corner, away from the door, and away from as many people as possible. We couldn’t even see the counter from where we were sitting.

“How do you know?” I asked.

“I heard him order a drink.”

Darius stood up and walked around the corner. He returned with the torrman.

The witch smiled when he saw me. “Miss Cole! Good morning.”

“If I let you call me Emerra, can I call you Cosmo?”

He stopped beside the table. “Why?”

“Because I think Cosmo is a rad first name.”

He blushed and his hand went to his glasses.

“Emerra,” Darius chided.

“And I mean that in a very professional way,” I added.

“You’re welcome to call me Cosmo”—he hesitated, like he was working himself up to it—“Emerra.”

I smiled as he sat down across from me. Darius returned to the chair beside me.

Cosmo said, “Vasil, you know I’m happy to help in any way I can, but before we settle on a plan, do you think you could tell me more about what’s been going on, and why you think a witch is involved?”

Darius laid out the details in a way so structured, it could have been admitted as evidence for how obsessive he was. He only paused when the barista brought Cosmo his drink. The torrman listened without saying a word. When he wasn’t drinking his coffee, he would lean back in his seat, his arms crossed, and let his gaze rest on the table.

When the count mentioned that all the information about the fingerprints had gone missing, Cosmo pulled his phone out from his pocket.

“Uhler?” Vasil said.

“Please, go on. I’m listening.”

Cosmo typed on his phone, then laid it on the table while Vasil continued. In less time than I might have thought, the sketch of the case was done.

“I agree with you,” Uhler said when it was over. “That sounds like the work of a witch. Do you know if they’re the murderer?”

“We don’t know. The prints they stole might have been theirs, or they might have been persuaded to help someone else.”

“I see,” Uhler mumbled.

His phone chimed. He picked it up and read the text message.

As Uhler got to his feet, he said, “Please wait here, Vasil. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

I stared, slack-jawed, at Cosmo. A witch had broken into a police station, altered a detective’s memory, stolen evidence in a murder case…and he was taking a break?

When Darius spoke, he sounded a lot calmer than I thought he had any right to.

“Is it important?”

“Very important.”

“We’ll be here.”

Cosmo left.

“What was that?” I said.

“I suspect we’ll find out shortly.”

“How do you know?”

“I don’t. But it’s unlike Uhler to interrupt a conversation by choosing to text someone.”

“Okay. And?”

“Did you notice how bad his hands were shaking?”

As a matter of fact, I hadn’t. So much for my supernatural eyes. I prided myself on being good at observing people, but it seemed I was in the presence of a master. I put my hands together and bowed.

“Sensei.”

“What?”

“Never mind. Is this why you prefer to talk to people in person?”

“It’s one of the reasons, yes. Emerra, can you see Cosmo from where you’re sitting?”

I looked around, confused.

“He’s outside,” Darius said.

I leaned back so I could see out the window. “I think so.”

“Do you recognize the woman he’s with?”

“I can’t even see—” I turned to the vampire. “Darius, can you hear them from in here?”

The count raised his hand to request my silence.

I scooted closer to the window as quietly as I could and leaned so far over, my head bonked the cold glass. Cosmo’s body was mostly blocking my view of the woman, but I could see her shoulder, and how tight she held her arms to herself. Cosmo gestured and moved his arms in big, stiff, abrupt motions. It was clear the torrman was reading her the riot act.

Then Cosmo stepped to the side, and I could see her face.

“That’s Rena Drix!” I said.

Darius leaned back and picked up his cup of coffee. “I think we’ve found Wayde’s elusive girlfriend.”

I frowned and inched my chair back to the table.

“What’s with the face?” Darius asked.

“She seemed nice. I don’t want her messed up in this.”

“Would you rather it be her or Miranda?”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

I glared. “That’s not fair.”

“It is what it is, Emerra. Sometimes nice people get caught up in ugly things. We’ll have a chance to hear her story soon. Uhler is bringing her inside.” Darius tapped on the handle of his mug. “Does she seem young to you?”

“She’s, like, twenty-five. Maybe older.”

“Trevon Wayde was over forty.”

I shrugged. “I hear the older you get, the less those age gaps matter.”

“I can’t argue with that.”

Yeah, the hundred-year old vampire probably couldn’t argue with that.

I tried to imagine Darius in a romantic relationship. Whoever dated him would have to be really fond of suits.

My amusing speculation ended when Uhler and Drix reached our table. The torrman motioned to the seat across from me. Rena put her bag on the floor next to the chair and sat down without ever looking at either of us.

“Good morning, Ms. Drix,” Darius said.

She didn’t answer.

Cosmo said, “So you’ve already met her.”

“Yes, she’s been hanging around the college where Wayde worked. I was told she was doing research there.”

The torrman sighed as he sat down. “That was the cover we gave her. She’s actually a former apprentice of mine. We both have a lot to explain. I hope you’ll hear us out.”

“I assure you, I’m very interested in what you have to say.”

Uhler put his elbows on the table with his hands clasped. He bowed his head before he began.

“When Thorburn got the call from Both, he originally asked me to find a handler for Wayde. Miss Drix agreed to help as a favor. We made some arrangements and had her go in as a student from another school.”

“What happened?”

Cosmo turned to his apprentice. “Rena?”

Drix tried to look up, but she could only meet Darius’s eyes for a second. “He asked me out. I was only being friendly with him, trying to get close enough to ask about the scroll, but…yeah.”

“Did you agree to go out with him?”

“It seemed like the perfect opportunity. He’d invited me back to his place. He was an amateur chef—” She grit her teeth and closed her eyes. Every line and plane of her face was stiff with grief.

“You fell in love with him,” I said.

“That was my fault,” she muttered. “I got too close.”

My voice rose with indignation: “What do you mean, ‘it was your fault?’ What’s wrong with it?”

“She was on an assignment,” Darius said. “You aren’t supposed to become involved with the person you’re watching.” He looked at Drix. “Did you ask Wayde to keep your relationship a secret?”

“Not at first.”

“But you did?”

She nodded.

That would explain why Frost hadn’t heard about her.

“When?” Vasil asked.

“My guess would be after I found out about it,” Cosmo said. “When Rena was giving me her reports, something seemed off, so I asked her what was going on. When I heard that she was…involved…I pulled her from the assignment and told her not to see him again.”

Involved, I thought. What a quaint way to get the point across.

Darius said to Drix, “You disobeyed your torrman and your master?”

I couldn’t stand the look of pain and shame on her face.

“Dude,” I said, “this was Trevon Wayde we’re talking about. He was big-hearted, sweet, and funny—and he could cook! I’ve only heard about him, but I get it. I mean, he had a dinosaur sticker on his nameplate. A dinosaur! ”

Rena raised her eyes. They were shining with unshed tears, but she did her best to smile. “All hail, Lord Spike.”

“I get it,” I assured her.

“Yes,” Cosmo said. “Maybe it was my fault for underestimating their attachment to each other.”

“How often did you see Wayde?” Darius asked.

“If we were lucky, once a week,” Rena said. “Most of the time it was once every other week. We’d missed our last date when I had a Tuesday come open. I knew that was when he met with his club, but I thought I’d ask if I could see him afterward.”

“That was the night of his murder, wasn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“He was going home early to meet you?”

“Yes.”

Oh, geez. No wonder the Dead Enders had said he seemed happy. He went home to meet Rena Drix, but instead he found his murderer, who thought he’d be at his club meeting until late.

That hurt. That was stupid and awful, and it made me sad and mad to even think about it.

“Tell me what happened that night,” Darius said.

I passed Drix a napkin so she could wipe her eyes.

She nodded her thanks before saying, “I was a few minutes late getting to his place.”

“Do you know what time you arrived?”

“Just after eight. When I went inside, I saw his bag by the door, so I knew he was home, but he didn’t answer when I called. I went upstairs to his study.” She took a second to get control of herself. “He was sitting in his armchair. Slumped. There was blood everywhere.”

I closed my eyes to banish the image of Wayde’s ruined body.

“What did you do then?” Darius said. “I need you to be as exact as possible.”

“I ran over and knelt in front of him. I-I think I touched him—his neck, to check his pulse—but I already knew he was dead.”

“Was the body still warm?”

Drix nodded. “And it was wet. All the blood was still wet. I got it all over my hands. Then I panicked. I grabbed my stuff and left.”

“Why didn’t you call the police?” I asked.

“Because she knew she’d be punished for disobeying me,” Uhler said softly.

Rena went on, “I went home. While I was washing my hands, I realized that I’d probably left fingerprints, but I was too scared to go back. The next day, it was too late. His niece had already found him, and I knew I couldn’t explain to the police why I’d run away.”

Darius leaned forward and put his folded hands on the table. “Miss Drix, did you break into the police station and remove the evidence of the fingerprints from the file?”

There was a long silence, then, “Yes.”

“Did you alter Detective Moran’s memory?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“Please answer the question.”

“I didn’t want anyone to know I was there.”

“Did you see anyone at Wayde’s house on the night of the murder?”

“No.”

“Please think about the question, Miss Drix. Did you see anyone while you were approaching the house? Leaving it?”

She shook her head.

“Were there any small signs or things you noticed that might have indicated someone else was in the house with you?”

“Not that I saw.”

“Do you remember what the study looked like when you arrived? Was anything out of place?”

Drix laughed. It was one breath that was mostly sadness. “Have you ever been in Trev’s study? A tornado could have come through, I don’t think I would have known.”

“Did you see the scroll there? Consider your answer, and tell me if you don’t remember.”

I noticed the shaking this time. It would have been hard to miss. It looked like an earthquake had moved into Rena Drix’s frame.

“Mr. Vasil, I need you to believe me.”

“Is there a reason I wouldn’t believe you?”

“Because I’m going to sound crazy.”

Whatever answer Darius had been expecting, it wasn’t that. I saw his eyes briefly widen. He leaned back in his chair, and his hand went to his face.

“Go on,” he said.

“I’m pretty sure the scroll was there. I wasn’t thinking right, but I remember looking for it because it was important, and I thought I saw it there. But the next Tuesday, while I was going through his desk, I found it.”

I slapped up a mental calendar inside my head. It wasn’t all that reliable, but the day of the burglary was circled in highlighter. Monday, the twenty-third.

That made sense. If Summer had stolen the scroll, then returned to the college, he might have hidden it in Wayde’s desk. Especially if he and Drix were the only two people that hung out there.

She was baffled because she didn’t know the scroll had been stolen.

“Did you touch it?” Darius asked.

Rena reached down to her bag, pulled out the scroll, and placed it in the center of the table.

There was no fanfare, no flourish. It lay on the coffee house table, looking as unimpressive as everything around it. I still found it hard to breathe.

When Darius spoke, his voice was tense: “How long has this been in your possession?”

“Since Tuesday.”

“It’s been in your bag the whole time?”

“Except when I was looking at it.”

“Are you prepared to swear to that, Miss Drix?”

The intensity of his question startled her, but she nodded.

“Did you know about this?” Darius asked Cosmo.

“No.”

The vampire looked back at Rena, “Why did you take it?”

“I didn’t know what else to do. I knew it was important to the Torr, and I didn’t know what the police would do—”

“What made you think it was important to the Torr?”

Darius was boring through Drix with his inquisition eyes. I was surprised the back of her head didn’t explode.

She stammered, “But…but the Torr—”

“Your mentor asked for a personal favor because he couldn’t justify leveling it up to a community task. As a religious scroll, it’s unlikely that anyone would have been able to use it. You’d been told it was a fake, and all the reports say that Wayde had no magical interest in it—”

“Are you sure it’s fake?”

That one small question stopped Darius cold—cold like an ice age. When he thawed, he said, “Do you have any reason to think it isn’t?”

“I don’t know what to think.”

“Please explain.”

“The first time I touched the scroll, I sensed some residual magic on it.”

“What kind of residual magic?”

“I’m sorry. It was so faint, and I’m not that powerful. It felt like it was long-term, active magic, but I couldn’t tell for sure, and when I pulled the scroll out of the desk, I couldn’t sense anything. The magic was gone.”

“Cosmo.”

Uhler reached out and picked up the roll of papyrus. All four of us were silent.

“Nothing.” Cosmo put the scroll down. “If there was any residual magic, it’s gone.”

Darius said to Drix, “Are you sure this is the same scroll?”

“It looks exactly the same,” she said. “The only thing different is the lack of magic.”

“Is it possible you made a mistake?”

Rena looked as if she was considering the idea, but her master spoke up for her.

“If Rena says she felt it, it was there.”

“Could it have faded?” Darius asked.

“It must have,” Cosmo said, “but if it was long-term residual, I wouldn’t have expected it to fade that fast.”

Darius said to Drix, “How long ago did you sense this magic?”

“The first time I touched the scroll was about a month ago,” she said.

“After you’d been taken off the assignment?”

“I would have told Mr. Uhler if it had been before then.”

Darius rubbed his chin for a long time—we’re talking level twelve, catastrophic pondering. None of us were willing to interrupt him.

Suddenly his hand dropped to his pocket. He pulled out a set of latex gloves and put them on.

“Mr. Uhler, I’m going to leave Drix in your custody. Please let me know where you’re keeping her. She’s to be tracked until the investigation is over.”

Cosmo said, “Would you prefer if I bind her to someone other than myself?”

“Bind her to Adams, if she’s willing.”

“I will.”

“Mr. Noctis will be in contact with you and the other torrmen to address your part in this affair.”

“I understand.”

Darius picked up the scroll. “Emerra, are you ready to go?”

I chugged the last of my coffee and stood up.

When we were out of the coffee shop, I said, “What’s going to happen to Rena?”

“That’s a matter for the Torr to decide. Once the investigation is over, she’ll be put on trial, and they’ll decide her punishment. If she’s lucky, the Torr may decide it’s a joint concern. If she’s less lucky, she’ll be left to the witches.” Darius unlocked the car and opened his door.

I got in on my side. “Is that bad?”

“The witches are known for being strict.” Vasil paused to finish buckling his seatbelt. “Uhler would forgive her for disobeying him. The rest won’t.”

“They won’t kill her, will they?”

“Seatbelt, Emerra.” When he twisted around to look behind the vehicle, I saw his closed-lip smile. “Despite what you think, magicians aren’t a bunch of martial-law barbarians. Not even the witches would kill someone for disobedience.”

We pulled out of our parking spot.

“What will happen to Cosmo?”

Darius’s smile disappeared. He faced forward. “That’s a rather more serious matter. Were you there when Jacky was at the Torr meeting?”

“Yes.”

“Did Uhler lie to him?”

I thought back on the conversation. “It was more like he rushed past any mention of Drix.”

“Good. Jacky tends to treat omission of facts different than he does lies. Uhler will probably be all right.”

“You mean Jacky decides what happens to him?”

“Jack Noctis is the last resort of the Torr. Whenever there’s a problem with one of the torrmen, they go to him.”