“It’s been a rough two days for you, hasn’t it?”

  It was a struggle to open my eyes, but I knew that voice, and it wasn’t one I’d expect to hear when my last clear memory was of Jameson’s lifeless face. The white walls and fluorescent lights weren’t a surprise, but Agent Harris looking down at me sure was.

  “I’m tough.” I felt around until he pressed the controller into my hand. He pulled a chair over as the bed rearranged itself so I could approximate sitting. When the gears stopped, he passed me a cup of water, which I drained before handing it back. “Thanks.”

  He leaned forward, elbows on his thighs. “How are you really?”

  My side didn’t hurt, which was a bonus. The IV jabbed into my arm wasn’t fantastic, but expected. The standard issue hospital gown was also par for the course, though I wouldn’t be getting out of bed while he was here to see me. But the doctors had likely passed on the pertinent information already. “I’ll make it. Did they heal me or stick me and give me good pain meds?”

  “The first.” He sighed. “Smith will be here soon. He couldn’t get away, and I had questions before I headed over to the scene.” He saw the question in my face. “Ballistics and the like.”

  “You go to scenes?”

  “Depends. In this case, with an officer dead and you in the hospital, yes.” He paused. “Who fired and at what?”

  That I could answer. As I told him how the monster had gotten Jameson’s gun, I realized I’d decided to lie about reanimating Jameson. He was dead, for which I’d always feel responsible, but I didn’t want to die. Unless someone else raised Jameson and asked what had happened, there was enough strange magic in the store to explain most anything. That was how Jameson kept moving, and it had nothing to do with me. As long as any mention of necromancy and reanimation stayed out of the reports, and more importantly the news, my clan never had to know.

  I must’ve trailed off because Harris took my hand in his and squeezed gently. In his eyes were sympathy and shadows from his own experiences. “I know it’s hard, and it never really gets easier.”

  It was too much. I closed my eyes and shook my head. “He’s dead because he tried to save me. I could see the magic. If I’d told him to stay back, that I could take care of myself… but I didn’t. While trying to shove me behind cover, he ended up in the open. Now he’s dead.”

  “Pine… Kelsey, I was part of the group that went around teaching departments how to work with a witch. He had training.”

  “What?” My eyes popped open.

  “Every officer had training on what to do and how to interact with their resources, usually a hedge-practitioner if they were lucky or contracts with clans. It’s not ideal, as you know.” He sighed, likely thinking about how much easier their job would be with more witches on staff. Magic had a way of creating messes. “Look, part of the length of your training was to give the rest of us, TBI and locals, time to research how other police forces have utilized their witches and worked with them. We did outreach and training.

  “He was taught not to do that. Maybe he forgot. Maybe he saw you and thought you didn’t know what was coming. No matter how you look at it, he made his choice. You aren’t responsible for his actions.”

  “H—” Maybe I shouldn’t have asked, but I had to know. “How long until you believed that?” I held my breath.

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  His face hardened. “I accepted it as fact.”

  That’s what I’d been afraid of.

  A rap on the door broke the moment. Harris let go of my hand as a woman in a doctor’s jacket came into the room. “Kelsey Pine?”

  “That’s me.”

  “Doctor Kate Richards. You’ve had an exciting day.” She came at me with the penlight of doom. “Agent Harris, could you leave us for a moment?”

  “I’ll be in the hall.”

  When the door clicked shut behind him, she started listing my injuries as she looked over my side and removed the IV. Turns out those claws had damaged the bone as well as the soft tissue. “We healed the damage to your side. You lost a lot of blood, which only time can help.”

  While I wasn’t sure what my side had looked like before, the thin pink lines were an improvement. It ached a bit when I moved, but Dr. Richards assured me that would finish healing over the next couple of days. “When can I leave?”

  “Now, but you need to take it easy. Between the physical healing and regenerating your magic, that’s a lot for a body, even a witch’s body.” She narrowed her eyes. “Your colleague tells me there’s a nasty bit of magic on the loose. No more physical injuries for three days, and don’t drain yourself again for at least that long, though a week would be better. Deal?”

  “Deal.” The air conditioning whooshed into the room and across my back. “Do I have any clothes?”

  She pointed to a pile under the bedside table. “Remember what I said. No more injuries.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  My head swam a bit, but I was steady enough to get the clothing some thoughtful person had brought. The door clicked shut while I was smiling at my shoes that a kind person in the ER had unlaced rather than cut off my feet. The track suit was a size too big, but that covered the lack of a bra better than something more formfitting. Luckily, I didn’t have enough chest to draw attention under baggy clothing. After a trip to the bathroom, I returned to the room expecting to see Harris and found Smith.

  “It’s good to see you up.” He held up a bag. “Your weapon, wand, holsters, and badge.”

  “It’s good to be up.” I hesitated. “About the cases—I need a good night’s sleep before I do any more magic, and I’m under strict orders to avoid injury for a bit.”

  He lost the smile. “We’ll talk on the way back to the office.”

  It was a long walk to the car, one where I had too many thoughts, all of which I tried to keep off my face. Smith did nothing to break the silence. The doors closed, and the silence continued until he pulled onto the road. “I don’t know how much you remember, but you kept trying to tell people that the magic was the same. The same as what? You’ve only worked one other case so far.”

  I swallowed hard. Luck hadn’t been a big feature in my life, but right now I had my toes crossed that I hadn’t mentioned anything about necromancy while I was babbling. “The subject of the initial call was suffering from the same magic that stimulated the adrenal system. The medical examiner will have to confirm, but it seems to trigger an exaggerated fight or flight response. It mixed, I’m not sure how, with the other magics in the shop, exaggerating the effect.”

  Smith swore. “Was this subject the killer at the first scene?”

  “I can’t say for sure, but I doubt it. This felt like a more diluted version of the magic, still potent but not at the same level as what I found this morning.” I thought for a moment about how to explain the difference. “This felt like a secondary infection type of a thing. Whatever caused the first issues was far more potent.”

  Smith tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. “Given what I’ve seen from the first crime scene, that would leave one or two people roaming about, carrying magic that can twist other magics and likely make them inclined to attacking.”

  As grim as that sounded, he had the measure of it. “That’s about it.”

  He swore, and we lapsed into silence.

  We were pulling into the TBI parking lot when he spoke again. “I know you need to rest, but we also need your initial report. Then I’ll have someone drive you home.”

  “Yes, sir.” There wasn’t another answer, no matter how scared I was that someone would figure out I’d raised Jameson from the dead or how tired I felt. Without this information, other people could die.

  I’ll give Smith credit, he did what he could to speed the process along. It still took two hours to get everything set up, and it was more of a final report than initial one, but that was less work for me tomorrow, so on balance, the time was well spent.

  At five, I was leaning against Fabian, waiting for my chauffeur with my small bag of belongings clutched to my chest. My purse and keys were missing from that bag, and I really hoped whoever showed up to drive me home would have them.

  Agent Harris strode out of the building, my purse over his shoulder and my keys dangling from his fingers, a smile spreading across his face. “I hear you need a driver.”