“We’ll have to up our game, going forward,” he continued, his gaze fixed on my face. But he didn’t call me out on the Isadora/Jacob issue. Relief washed over me, and I relaxed in my chair. “The Ryders had inside information from this coven. It means that Isadora’s claim is true. We have spies in here, and we must be careful. Which is why, going forward, everything related to Katherine Shipton will be conveyed only to this team here, along with a few other trusted witches and warlocks. Imogene will help us oversee the entire operation and assist us with any resources we may need.”
“Katherine definitely has her fingers in more than one pie here,” Imogene replied. “She’s been leaving trails of bodies across the US for two decades now, and it’s taken us a long time to connect her to a number of unfortunate incidents. However, with what you gathered from the Ryders’ storage unit, we have a better clue as to how they did what they did, and how we can prevent such a tragedy from happening again. We’ve got APBs out on everyone who’s missing. It’s only a matter of time before we find them.”
Wade cleared his throat, gazing at Imogene. My heart fluttered, and I knew that was all him. He was still crushing on her! Ugh. My eyes rolled, and I pinched the bridge of my nose in an attempt to keep my focus.
“We need to start drilling into Finch and Emily now,” he said. “They’re viable leads, and I imagine we can work them over hard enough until we get them to talk.”
“Good idea,” Imogene replied, her lips stretching into a charming smile. No wonder Wade was smitten. Heck, even Dylan and Raffe were swooning over her. Alton, not so much, but then again, Alton was happily married. “However, Emily is quite useless at this point in time. When she isn’t sedated, she’s crying and screaming after her brother. She didn’t take his death well.”
“Boo-hoo, cry me a river,” I grumbled. “I’d like to talk to Finch, if that’s okay with you, Alton. It’s time he and I had a chat, anyway.”
Alton nodded. “Agreed. But I want you to have Wade with you when you do that,” he said. “Just in case he gets out of line. We’ve tried to have Adley talk to Finch, but he refuses to see her. Perhaps he’ll be more open to talking to you. We won’t know until we try.”
“Then it’s settled,” I replied, giving Wade a sideways glance. “Ready to get back in the game?”
“I was never out to begin with,” he answered, one corner of his mouth curving upward.
“Of course. Nearly bleeding to death was simply the equivalent of five o’clock tea in the magical world, huh?” I said, raising an eyebrow.
Alton laughed. “Good to see you both got your spirits back.”
We kind of had. We’d lost people along the way, and we’d nearly gotten ourselves killed, too, but it felt like we still had a lot of work to do. There was still so much that we didn’t know, including about my parents. I had questions that needed answering, and that alone was enough to help me power through the grief and hopelessness I’d felt earlier, and to focus on what came next.
Sure, Katherine Shipton had it in for me, and I needed to watch my back, but this was no longer just about me. All our lives were at stake. And I was damned if I was going to let her ruin anyone else’s future in this world.
As we moved to leave Alton’s office, he motioned for me to stay. Once Imogene and my teammates were out, and the door closed behind them, Alton handed me a small manila file.
“I think it’s time for you to start thinking more seriously about the coven and its role in your life, Harley,” Alton said, his voice low.
I opened the file and noticed different forms to fill out, each branded with the San Diego Coven’s sigil, and his signature at the bottom. “What’s all this?” I asked.
“Your choices, Harley. You join the coven, or you register as a Neutral,” he replied. “You knew this was coming. Your probation month is over, after all. Frankly, I’d be honored if we could have you here as a member, especially after everything that happened, but I also intend to keep my promise and respect your decision, whatever it may be. Just know that you have a family here. Take as long as you need before you give me an answer. You’ve earned it. Mind you, by ‘as long as you need,’ I don’t mean another month. We don’t have that kind of time, given Katherine’s endeavors.”
I breathed out, then gave him a brief nod and left the room.
Truth be told, I’d already made my decision. I just needed to tell someone else first. The person who’d brought me here to begin with.
I figured he deserved that courtesy.
Forty-Three
Harley
“Ready?” Wade asked me, as we both stood before the six big mirrors in the Assembly Hall.
Aside from extremely rare Portal Openers like Isadora and Jacob, they were the only other magical way for us to get from one place to another without using the basic modes of transportation. Of course, every single travel through the mirror was preapproved and recorded.
In our case, our destination was quite special.
“For what? Purgatory? I doubt anyone is ever ready for Purgatory,” I replied.
He moved to stand next to me and took a deep breath as he stared at the mirror in the middle for a while.
“I’m glad you’re okay,” he said suddenly. “You know that, right?”
“Are you sucking up to me so I say yes to joining the coven?” I asked with a smirk.
He looked at me, and I felt my heart perform athletic somersaults in my chest. I feared it could break my ribs again, all on its own. “No. I’m just glad you’re living, breathing, and willing to fight another day, Harley.”
My cheeks were on fire as I gave him a sheepish smile. “I know. I was kidding.”
“I wasn’t,” he replied, then shifted his focus back to the mirror. “Volat in Purgatoris.”
The reflective glass surface began to ripple. I nodded once and braced myself as I walked right into it. The mirror felt liquid and cold against my skin. I set foot into a different place altogether. Mirror travel was less shocking to my senses than slipping through a wormhole.
When Wade caught up with me, we found ourselves in the reception hall of Purgatory, the prison for our magical world’s most dangerous and hardened criminals.
It was huge, stretching out in multiple corridors, with cell doors lining both sides of each passageway on multiple levels, interconnected by stairs and suspended ramps. The reception hall’s ceiling was made entirely out of glass, giving us a clear view of Purgatory’s cell rows. It was all stark and gray, with black metal and stainless steel bars and architectural details. It was a Brutalist’s dream, a recipe for emptiness and depression.
It reminded me of a supermax-type of prison. Only, it was eerily quiet.
One of the security magicals stationed in the hall walked over to greet us. I checked his nametag, noticing his black Kevlar uniform. The guy was dressed for war, equipped with electro-shock batons and his Esprit—a gold pinky ring.
“I’m Officer Mallenberg. Welcome,” he said, his tone flat.
“We’re here to see Finch Shipton,” Wade replied.
“Follow me,” Mallenberg said. He turned around and guided us out of the reception hall and through one of the corridors.
White neon bulbs glowed overhead, casting a cold, impersonal light against the cement-gray walls. Each cell door was framed in steel, with a plethora of runes and sigils engraved all over it. Inside, I could see more symbols carved directly into the cell walls. The prisoners had decent living conditions, from what I could see, but they all wore a modified version of the Atomic Cuffs, where the energy crackled around their wrists without holding them together. They had freedom of movement, but they must have known that the moment they tried to tamper with the cuffs, they’d suffer terribly.
There were all kind of magicals in here. Young witches, aging warlocks… even juveniles. They stared at Wade and me as we walked past their cells, but didn’t say a word. Their emotions pummeled me—viciousness, simmering anger, resentment, frustration, resignation, sadness, and, in some cases, curiosity.
I focused on Wade’s feelings, slightly overwhelmed by the prisoners. This didn’t feel like the other crowds I’d learned to deal with, back at the coven. There was something in the air, something about Purgatory that weighed heavily on me. There was so much despair and agony in this place, it was impossible for me to completely block it all out.
Toward the end of the corridor, Purgatory began to feel and look different. There were fewer cells on each side. There weren’t any black bars, but solid steel doors with small hatches to open and look through.
“This is the solitary confinement area. Our most dangerous residents are here,” Mallenberg said.
We stopped in front of the very last cell, its number spray-painted at the top. Number 230. Mallenberg banged on the metal door.
“Hey, Shipton! You’ve got a visitor!” Mallenberg shouted.
Wade and I waited for half a minute before we heard Finch reply from inside. “I smell a redhead…”
Mallenberg scoffed, then unlocked the latch with a special key and opened it, giving me a clear view of Finch inside his cell. Nothing had changed about him, with the exception of his yellow prison jumpsuit. His sky-blue eyes were still vivid and burning with chilling hatred. His platinum hair was short, clipped down to a buzzcut. His grin gave me goosebumps.
“Hey, Finch,” I said.
Wade kept to the side, staring at the wall behind me. He was quiet and calm, but, inside, a storm was raging. I moved my Empathy focus on Finch—it was empty. Blank. Almost close to soothing for me, like white noise.
Finch rose from his bed and turned so he could face me, leaning his back against the wall. Every square inch of his cell was covered in runes and symbols to stop him from breaking out. Security magicals patrolled the corridors once every ten minutes, as well. There were enough prevention methods at work here that one would’ve had to be downright stupid or suicidal to try to escape.