Mattie and I walked over to Gabriel, the weight of the last few days pressing down like a lead blanket. “Alright,” Gabriel began, the faint glow of his wings catching the dim light, “we can summon the Necromancer from the Depths.”
I stopped dead in my tracks and held up a hand. “Wait. Him? You’re planning on summoning that guy?”
Gabriel gave me that defensive look he always managed to pull off without a hint of shame. “He’s the only Necromancer I know.”
“Fine,” I muttered, pulling my trench coat tighter around me. “Let’s get this madness over with.”
The basement of the Order always had a way of wrapping itself around you, squeezing until the air felt like it was caught in your throat. It wasn’t just the cold—though it was sharp enough to cut through my coat. It was the magic, ancient and restless, clawing at the edges of the space like it wanted to escape. The kind of place that had seen too much, the ghosts of a thousand idiots whispering warnings that nobody listened to.
Gabriel led the way down the spiral staircase, his wings folded neatly, the faint glow of the runes on the walls brushing the edges of his blade. Mattie followed close behind me, her footsteps softer than usual. She was trying to play it cool, but I could see the tension in her shoulders. The girl was jittery, and who could blame her? This case had been nothing but a parade of horrors, and we weren’t even halfway done.
As for me, I was counting down the minutes until I could light another cigar and forget all of this existed. Unfortunately, that would have to wait.
Gabriel turned as we reached the bottom of the stairs, his face wearing that self-righteous mask he always pulled out when he wanted to make me regret agreeing to something. “This is where we summon him,” he said, like he was declaring the time of death at a crime scene. “The Necromancer.”
The chamber spread out before us, dark and oppressive, with a Summoning Circle in its heart. It was a masterpiece, sure. Silver and obsidian inlays spiraled together in intricate designs, glowing runes faintly flickering like they were alive. The whole setup practically screamed, “Touch this and die.”
I stopped at the edge, taking it all in—the towering shelves of ancient texts, the candles that flickered but refused to burn out, and that metallic tang in the air. It was the smell of magic stretched too thin, pulled into places it wasn’t supposed to go.
“This,” I muttered, taking a slow drag on my cigar, “is a mistake waiting to happen.”
Mattie stood a few feet back, her eyes fixed on the circle. The fear was written all over her face, but she wasn’t saying anything. Smart kid. She knew when to keep quiet. But fear... well, fear was something she’d have to get used to. There were horrors out there worse than anything she could imagine, and this was just a preview.
Gabriel stepped into the circle, his voice steady as he began the chant. The words rolled off his tongue, ancient and guttural, bouncing off the walls like echoes in a cave. The runes flared to life, their glow growing brighter, casting long, twisting shadows that danced like they had a mind of their own.
I glanced at Mattie, her hands gripping her notebook so tight her knuckles were white. She didn’t flinch, though, and I had to give her credit for that.
The air shifted, dropping another ten degrees as a wind picked up from nowhere. It howled through the chamber, swirling around the circle as the glow turned from gold to blood-red. The shadows danced faster, flickering like flames.
And then, with a sound like shattering glass, he arrived.
The portal spat him out like a bad punchline—gaunt, pale, and draped in tattered robes that looked like they’d been dragged through a thousand years of bad decisions. His sunken eyes glinted with a madness that didn’t just flirt with insanity—it took it out for drinks and stayed the night. And that grin—too wide, too sharp—spread across his face like he’d just thought of a joke only he found funny.
“Knock, knock!” he crooned, his voice scraping the air like nails on a chalkboard. “Who’s there? Oh, wait—it’s me! The answer to all your problems... or maybe just the start of a few more.”
He let his eyes drift lazily across the room, taking us in. “Ohhh, what a crowd we’ve got here! A Grand Chancellor, a Master Wizard, and a bright-eyed apprentice. What is this, a setup for a bad tavern joke? Truly, it’s my un-lucky day!” He cackled, a sound that made me want to rip my ears off just for some peace. “Hope you brought your best material, because I’ve got killer punchlines.”
Mattie shifted beside me, clutching her notebook so tight I thought it might crumble in her hands. “Is it... safe?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Gabriel didn’t even blink. “As safe as inviting a lunatic into your home can be.”
I shot them both a glare that said, Focus. It’s game time. Mattie straightened up, but the Necromancer, noticing the exchange, flopped to the floor, writhing like a worm in a pile of salt. “Oh, does the little birdie not want to play? Ha ha ha!” He twisted his head unnaturally toward Mattie, his grin somehow widening. “Is the little girl in over her head? Is her new house more of a cage? Oh, but wait, wait—he would know, wouldn’t he? Since he flew the coop!”
The Necromancer doubled over laughing, clutching his sides like he’d cracked the funniest joke in all the planes of existence. My patience, already razor-thin, was quickly snapping. I pinched the bridge of my nose and exhaled slowly. “Here we go,” I muttered.
Gabriel stepped forward, shoulders squared, voice calm but commanding. “Necromancer, you’ve been summoned to provide information.”
The lunatic’s laughter cut off like a severed power line. He tilted his head, his grin somehow more menacing in its stillness. “Information? Oh, how delightful! But tell me, darling angels, what’s in it for me?” His voice dropped, the kind of tone that made the temperature plummet. “You know what they say—a soul for a soul!” His grin returned, sinister and sharp as broken glass. “Oh, but wait, you’re fresh out, aren’t you? Maybeeeeeee you can borrow some?”
The air turned cold enough to sting, a chill that settled deep into my bones. The runes in the circle flared, casting long, flickering shadows that danced like predators.
I stepped forward, my voice cutting through the tension. “And what would you want? Because let me tell you, it’ll be a cold day in hell before we give you any souls to play with.”
The Necromancer tilted his head back and howled with laughter, a sound that reverberated off the walls like a storm. “Good thing the Depths are always cold and black,” he hissed, his grin vanishing, leaving behind something darker. “Just without the sweet comfort of death.”
His gaze locked onto Mattie, the playful malice draining from his face. For the first time since he’d appeared, he wasn’t smiling. His voice was quieter now, colder. “I want a favor... from her.”
Mattie froze under the weight of his stare. The room, already suffocating, seemed to shrink. Even Gabriel looked uneasy.
“Why her?” I growled, stepping between them.
The Necromancer’s eyes never left Mattie. “Because she’s the only one worth asking. And because... she’s just like me.”
Mattie’s scream cut through the room like a blade, her voice shaking with fury and defiance. “I am nothing like you!”
The Necromancer’s laughter filled the chamber, a grating, bone-chilling sound that only fed the unease coiled in the pit of my stomach. He tilted his head, as if savoring her words, before speaking with the deliberate cadence of a storyteller spinning a web.
“I’d like to tell you a little story, my dear. A tale, if you will.” He stepped to the edge of the summoning circle, his sunken eyes glowing with an unsettling light. “You see, my entire life, I worked hard. Oh, how I worked! I clawed my way up the ladder, chasing success like a dog chasing its tail. The funny thing is, it wasn’t until I reached their measure of success—until I lived the life they told me to live—that I realized I had failed.”
He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper that seemed to echo louder than any shout. “I failed myself. I failed that little boy who dreamed of so much more. That boy who wanted the stars but settled for scraps because that’s what they said was enough. And you know what I did when I realized that?”
The Necromancer spun around, his ragged robes flaring out like the tattered remnants of some long-forgotten flag. He threw his arms wide, his grin splitting his face like a crack in the universe. “I turned into thisssssss! Aren’t I GLORYYYYY-EEEE-USSSSS!” His voice rose to a shriek, echoing in the chamber. “SEEEEEE! We are basically EYE-dent-a-cul!”
“Fuck that,” I said, stepping in before Mattie could explode again. “You want a favor? Fine. You get one. But it’s from me, and I decide what’s reasonable. You don’t get to mess with her.”
The Necromancer clicked his tongue and wagged a bony finger in my direction, his grin never faltering. “Nope! I know what I want, and if you’re not willing to give it to me, you might as well send me back to the deep, dark depths right now. Tick-tock, little wizard, what’s it going to be?”
Before I could respond, Mattie’s voice cut through, softer now but no less resolute. “Fine,” she whispered, stepping forward. “You can have one favor. But it must meet my terms.”
“Ohhhh, terms,” the Necromancer sneered, his grin twitching at the edges.
Mattie’s eyes burned with determination. “The favor must not violate my morals. It must not harm innocents. It must not go against the Order of Magi’s core tenets or the Accords. Those are my terms.”
The Necromancer’s grin faded for the briefest moment, replaced by an expression that might have been respect—or maybe just a flicker of disappointment. “Pish posh apple sauce,” he muttered with a dramatic wave of his hand. “You’re no fun at all. But very well, I’ll agree to your demands.”
His grin returned, sharper than ever. “Now, my dear, shall we get down to business?”
The Necromancer sat, his bony fingers twitching in delight, and I started with the question that had been gnawing at me since the start. “Soul gems. What do you know about them?”
His eyes lit up like twin embers in a dark pit. “Ahhh, little sparklies,” he cooed, almost lovingly. “Like living fire trapped in amber. My precious, oh how I miss the taste of sweet, delicious death.”
Mattie, ever the curious one, leaned forward. “You... eat soul gems?”
The Necromancer let out a sharp laugh that echoed like a broken bell. “Nooooooo!” He clutched his chest as though the suggestion had physically wounded him. “I cherish them, so precious, so pure! Like lightning in a bottle—powerful, powerful!” His voice dropped, reverent, as if he were describing a holy relic.
“How do they work?” I pressed.
The Necromancer dropped to the floor, sitting cross-legged like a deranged schoolteacher about to give a lecture. “Master Wizard,” he crooned, tilting his head, “are you looking to become a Master Necromancer? To join the brotherhood of the dark hand in the night? Jack be nimble, Jack be quick, jump over the candle for the shadow of the Night Mother watches you!” He erupted into laughter, cackling as if he’d just told the funniest joke in the multiverse.
I clenched my jaw and pushed through the madness. “Look, I have about five hundred soul gems. What would a Necromancer do with so many?”
His laughter stopped abruptly, and his expression shifted into something darkly serious. “Something... glorious,” he whispered, eyes wide. “Something wonderful. Something so supercalifragilisticexpialidocious!” He giggled again, rocking back and forth. “The only thing to do with so many souls is to summon.”
Gabriel stepped forward, his wings bristling. “Summon what?”
The Necromancer’s grin spread wide, sharp as a razor, and he whispered, “Spoilersssss!” He cackled, delighted with himself.
Seeing this line of questioning was going nowhere, I shifted gears. “Can soul gems be matched with their owners?”
The Necromancer clapped his hands and wiggled his fingers like a magician about to pull a rabbit from a hat. “Ooooh! Are you trying to find the necromancer who made them? Oh no, no, no, that’s a secret we pilots of the dead like to keep.” He leaned in, his voice dropping conspiratorially. “Whispersss. Secret secrets are no fun; thankfully, secret secrets hurt everyone.” He straightened, his grin sly. “But! If you’re trying to find out who they were when they were made of flesh, thennnnn...” He drew out the word, savoring it. “That’s an easy one! DNA, my dear boy! Match the essence to the flesh, and voila! A name for every little sparkle.” He gestured grandly, like a magician finishing a trick.
Mattie’s voice cut in, trembling slightly. “Can soul gems be destroyed?”
“Oh yesssss,” the Necromancer purred, his grin widening. “But that is dangerousssss.” He laughed again, his voice rising in a singsong lilt.
“Is there a safe way to get rid of soul gems?” I asked, already dreading the answer.
The Necromancer tilted his head, feigning thought. “You could use them! That’s what I would do, and I would never tell you to do something I wouldn’t.” His grin turned wicked. “Oh, that’s comforting,” I muttered.
“But if you want to free them...” His voice trailed off, and the grin faded into something darker. “Well, that’s where things get messy.”
“Messy how?” Mattie asked, her voice cracking.
The Necromancer turned to her, his grin softening, almost pitying. “Oh, little lamb,” he said, his tone almost gentle. “Freeing a soul comes at a cost. You see, when you break a cage, you risk breaking the bird inside. Unless, of course, you’re willing to pay the ultimate price.” His voice dropped to a whisper, his eyes locking with hers. “Are you?”
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I stepped in, my patience wearing thin. “You’re not being the most helpful.”
His grin snapped back, wide and toothy. “Why would I be? You have all the answers you’ll ever need—I can smell them on you.” He leaned closer, his eyes gleaming with malice. “Maybe you should take your precious rocks and take a dip in the river. Sticks and stones may break your bones, but a three-headed dog will eat them.” His laughter rang out again, filling the chamber with its unsettling echo.
The heat rolling off Gabriel was suffocating, heavenly fire dancing along his wings like a promise of divine wrath barely held in check. “Enough of these games,” he growled, his voice reverberating through the chamber like thunder. Flames curled around his clenched fists, and for a moment, I thought he might incinerate the Necromancer on the spot.
“Look, you worthless piece of filth,” Gabriel hissed, stepping closer to the grinning wraith. “What can you tell us about these murders? Who’s doing them, and why?”
The Necromancer cocked his head, that shark’s grin spreading wider. “Muuuurderssss,” he drawled, drawing the word out like he was savoring it. “I do declare, I know much about murders. After all, murder is my business, and business, ohhhh business is goooood—so good it got me sent to the Depths.” He threw his arms wide, a mad glint in his sunken eyes.
Gabriel’s fire flared, casting long shadows across the summoning chamber. “Answer the fucking question,” he demanded, his tone sharp enough to cut steel. “Over the past five years, a necromancer has been working in Chicago, killing people and turning them into soul gems. Do you know Simon Devour?”
The grin faltered, just for a second, before twisting into something cruel and mocking. “Hmmmm, now you’re asking the real questions,” the Necromancer said, tapping a bony finger to his temple. “Simon Devour, Simon Devour… pleasure-hungry little demon, wasn’t he? But no, I know nothing about your boy Simon.” He paused, his grin growing razor-sharp again. “All I can tell you is there’s something more. Something delicious. A phantom in the night!”
He threw his head back, his voice rising into a half-song, half-screech:
“Nighttime sharpens, heightens each sensation!
Darkness stirs and wakes imagination!”
I growled, grinding my cigar under my boot. “This is getting us nowhere.”
The Necromancer’s head snapped toward me, his grin widening impossibly. “Oh, you were looking to go somewhere, Master Wizard? Silly me! All you had to say was that.” He spun on his heels, arms spread wide like a ringmaster at a circus. “You want to talk about the Chicago killings? Little ol’ Jon and Jeff? Of course!”
He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Guess what? They haven’t moved on to the afterlife—I can tell you that much.”
Gabriel stiffened, his wings bristling. “What do you mean?”
“Oh, I’ve felt the tremors,” the Necromancer said, spinning lazily again, his tattered robes fluttering around him. “The delicious growth of necromantic essence rippling through the multiverse. This is the strongest I’ve felt in my entire lifetime.” He paused, his grin turning sly. “But alas, I do not know which of my brethren is at the heart of the marching band.”
He began singing again, this time off-key and unsettling:
“When I was a young boy, my father took me into the city, to see a marching band!”
He laughed, a sound like breaking glass. “Do you know what he asked of me, little wizards? He asked me to be the leader, the savior of the damned, to fix the broken.” His grin twisted into something dark. “But oh, how I failed. So someone else has taken my place—and they’re going to be a legend!”
I crossed my arms, unimpressed. “So, what—you’re useless?”
He stopped spinning, his grin stretching wider. “Oh no, my boy. I’m chaos, not useless. But chaos never comes without a price.”
Mattie, ever the brave fool, asked, “You keep talking about price. What is it?”
The Necromancer’s grin vanished, and his voice dropped to a chilling whisper. “If you have to ask, little lamb, maybe you can’t afford it.”
Gabriel had had enough. “These worthless riddles are wasting our time,” he said, his voice ringing with finality.
The Necromancer’s grin faded into something cold and calculating. “The balance is shifting, little wizards. Death has a plan, and you’re all just pawns in the game.” His grin returned, sharper than ever. “But wait! Even a pawn can become a queen. Or maybe I should say… a Holmes.” He cackled, the sound high and manic, barking out laughter that turned into pig-like snorts.
That was the last straw. Gabriel’s golden fire blazed, and with a sharp incantation, he banished the Necromancer. The figure dissolved into smoke, leaving only his haunting laughter echoing through the chamber.
We trudged out of the basement of the Order, the air heavy with the weight of that encounter. My cigar hung limp between my teeth, unlit—a testament to how drained I felt. My head was still pounding, my body aching with that magical hangover that not even the strongest spells could fix. Gabriel led us up the spiral staircase, his golden wings tucked tightly against his back, the glow of celestial fire dimmed now, like a storm had finally passed.
Once we were in his office, Gabriel slumped into his chair and gestured for us to sit. “Alright,” he began, his voice rough and tired. “Was that a waste of time, or did you two actually learn something?”
I opened my mouth to speak, but Mattie beat me to it, her voice steady despite the strain in her eyes. “I think I did. He answered our questions, just… overtly.” Her hands gripped her notebook tightly, the pages filled with notes written in her precise handwriting.
Gabriel and I exchanged a look. “Go on,” I muttered, gesturing for her to continue.
“Well,” she said, her voice picking up momentum, “we know how to identify the soul gems now. We just need to collect DNA samples from the missing persons on Simon’s patient list and match them to the gems. That’s actionable.”
Gabriel nodded, his expression serious but approving. “Good. And?”
Mattie’s brow furrowed, her tone growing more uncertain but no less determined. “The Necromancer… he hinted at some kind of guild or collective of Necromancers, working toward a shared mission. A mission that seems to be passed down from some kind of leader or father figure.”
That’s when Gabriel and I locked eyes, a sharp, unspoken understanding passing between us. My stomach turned as the pieces clicked together, the jagged edges of our chaotic puzzle starting to form a horrifying picture.
“What did you two figure out?” Mattie asked, her voice hesitant, catching the shift in the air between us.
“Just keep going,” I said, my voice tighter than I intended. “Tell us the rest of what you learned.”
She hesitated but pressed on. “Lastly,” she said slowly, “I think… I think the only way to free the soul gems is to bathe them in the river Styx. In the Underworld.”
Gabriel’s hand tightened on the armrest of his chair, the wood creaking under his grip. My head tilted back, staring at the ceiling as I processed the implications. The Styx.
“You realize what that means, right?” I asked, my voice low.
Mattie frowned. “That freeing them would be… dangerous?”
“Dangerous doesn’t even begin to cover it,” Gabriel interjected, his voice like steel. “The river Styx isn’t just a place. It’s a contract. A binding force of the universe. To dip something in it—especially something as volatile as soul gems—means invoking the attention of powers far beyond what we deal with on Earth.”
“And the cost,” I added grimly, “would be more than just steep. It could break reality.”
Mattie’s face paled, but she didn’t waver. “If it’s the only way to save those souls…”
I shook my head. “We’re not there yet, Kid. First, we figure out what the hell is really going on with this necromancer ‘mission’ of theirs. And who’s pulling the strings.” I glanced at Gabriel. “You’re thinking what I’m thinking, aren’t you?”
He gave a slow, deliberate nod, his golden eyes burning with quiet intensity. “Yes. The pieces fit, and I don’t like what they’re pointing to.” He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. “This isn’t just a rogue Necromancer or a cult. This is something bigger. Something old.”
“And that,” I said, rising to my feet, “is exactly what we need to figure out before we’re drowning in more bodies and soul gems.” I glanced at Mattie. “Get ready, Kid. This case isn’t just messy—it’s a full-blown shitstorm, and we’re smack in the middle of it.”
I leaned back in my chair, staring at the ceiling, cigar smoke curling upward like ghosts of long-forgotten truths. “Alright, Kid,” I said, my voice low, “it’s time for your first real lesson in Heraldry and the secrets my family and the Pendragons have been keeping since the Divide. To understand what we’re up against, we’ve got to go back. Way back.”
Mattie’s brow furrowed, and Gabriel took over, his tone solemn. “Before the Other Realms existed, back to the time of Camelot. The Earth wasn’t like it is now—it was alive with mana, overflowing with magic. Practitioners roamed freely, and magical creatures thrived. But with that came chaos. The world was being ravaged, torn apart by those who sought to exploit that power.”
“And,” I interrupted, flicking ash from my cigar, “if you ask the right people, they’ll tell you it wasn’t about ‘good vs. evil.’ The world isn’t that simple, Kid. It’s a spectrum—a messy, ugly spectrum of morality, choices, and consequences. People do what they do, not because they’re good or evil, but because they think it’s the only way to survive.”
Gabriel shot me a glare, his golden eyes burning. “Philosophy aside, Camelot rose from that chaos. King Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table became the first iteration of what we now call the Order of the Magi. They defended Earth, uniting practitioners and mortals alike against those who would tear the world apart. At the center of it all was Merlin, the Grand Sorcerer, the most powerful practitioner of his age.”
Mattie leaned forward, her notebook forgotten. “And the Father of Death?”
Gabriel nodded. “A sorcerer who mastered the forbidden art of necromancy, creating death magic so potent it threatened to tip the scales of existence. He didn’t just wield power—he was power. Merlin faced him, and after a battle that nearly consumed the Earth, the Father of Death was banished to the Netherrealm.”
I exhaled a cloud of smoke, letting the weight of Gabriel’s words hang in the air. “And to do that,” I said, my voice bitter, “Merlin shattered the universe. Split it into the infinite Realms we know today. Earth became what it is now—a mana desert, devoid of magic. Every practitioner, every magical creature, had to leave. They rooted themselves in the Other Realms, carving out new worlds, new lives.”
“The Pendragons,” Gabriel continued, his voice like steel, “along with nine other ruling families, took up the mantle to lead the universe. To maintain the balance Merlin had fought so hard to create.”
Mattie’s voice wavered as she spoke, piecing it together. “And now… you think these soul gems are being used to bring back the Father of Death?”
I ground the cigar into the ashtray, the ember flaring one last time before snuffing out. “Maybe. It’s the only thing that makes sense. But as far as I know, summoning from the Netherrealm is impossible.”
Gabriel’s jaw tightened. “Someone—or someones—believe otherwise.”
Mattie turned to me, her expression both curious and fearful. “And this guild you mentioned, the one the Necromancer hinted at… you think Simon, Jon, and Jeff were members?”
“Maybe,” I admitted, my tone sharp with frustration. “Maybe it’s all just circumstantial evidence from a lunatic who can’t keep a coherent thought together. Or maybe,” I leaned forward, locking eyes with Gabriel, “we’re standing on the edge of something that makes every case we’ve ever solved look like child’s play.”
Gabriel didn’t flinch, but the shadows in his eyes deepened. Mattie scribbled furiously in her notebook, but I could see her hands trembling.
“And if it is,” I said quietly, the weight of the words pressing down on all of us, “then we’re already out of time.”
The room was steeped in silence, thick and oppressive, broken only by the faint crackle of the cigar between my fingers. I drew a slow, deep drag, letting the smoke linger before exhaling it into the dim air. Despite the crumbs of progress we’d scraped together, we were still circling the same unanswered question: Who the hell was the Necromancer haunting Chicago?
A sharp knock at the door cut through the quiet, snapping us all to attention. Gabriel barked out a brusque, "Come in." The door creaked open, and in stepped a delivery carrier. He was a wiry man with an ill-fitting uniform and the kind of wide-eyed curiosity that made me instinctively suspicious. Clearing his throat, he said, “I’m looking for Master Wizard Julius.”
I cocked an eyebrow and leaned back in my chair. “Oy, that’s me, mate.”
The carrier let out a sigh that was equal parts relief and exasperation. “Thank God. I thought for sure this was a scam. And, uh, just so you know, Google Maps says this address doesn’t exist. It’s like… magic or something.” He laughed awkwardly, completely unaware of the irony.
Gabriel’s glare could’ve burned through steel, but I couldn’t help smirking as I took the envelope from the man’s outstretched hand. “Thanks,” I muttered, keeping my amusement low-key.
Mattie stood up, her smile sharp and polite, and guided the carrier out, his voice trailing off as he continued to gush about how “cool” the Order was. As the door clicked shut, Gabriel spun on me, his wings twitching with barely-contained fury.
“Who,” he growled, his tone low and dangerous, “the fuck sent you a letter using a mortal delivery service to the Order?”
I glanced at the package, turned it over in my hands, and smirked. “Apparently, I did.”
Gabriel’s fury hit a boiling point. “What the fuck, Julius? Do you have any idea how many rules you just broke? Mortals can’t know about magic! That’s like—Rule Number One of the accords!”
I waved a dismissive hand and ripped open the letter with a flourish, scanning the contents. My smirk faltered, replaced by a creeping sense of unease as I muttered under my breath, “Fuuuuuuck that damn Lesser Demon.”
Gabriel narrowed his eyes. “Lesser Demon? What the hell are you talking about?”
I handed him the letter, still reeling from the implications. The handwriting was unmistakably mine, but the memory of penning it was a total blank. “Apparently, I wrote myself a letter. Don’t remember doing it, though.”
His expression shifted as he read, his anger giving way to something colder, sharper. When he finished, he passed it back with a sigh. “Well, at least it’s good advice. Pity it’s coming from yourself.”
Mattie returned just in time to catch the tail end of the exchange, her gaze bouncing between Gabriel’s glare and my amused frustration. “What’s going on now?”
I tapped the letter against my palm and leaned back, letting the smoke from my cigar curl upward. “Turns out I sent myself a warning. Cryptic, inconvenient, and apparently courtesy of a damn Lesser Demon.”
Gabriel crossed his arms, his voice flat. “I’m starting to think ‘cryptic’ is your natural language.”
Gabriel handed the letter to Mattie, his movements sharp and deliberate, as if holding the thing any longer would infect him with its insanity. She flipped it over, hoping for more answers on the back, but the page was blank. Her brow furrowed, and she muttered, “The Lesser Demon. The one from the ritualist case. We keep forgetting it exists, don’t we?”
I leaned back in my chair, the cigar now a smoldering stub between my fingers. “Exactly, kid. That’s what’s twisting my gut. This letter—this whole situation—none of it makes sense. That Lesser Demon is playing a game way above its league, pulling stunts like this. Makes you wonder how it’s got so much juice.”
Gabriel paced, his wings twitching as his frustration boiled over. “Look,” he said, voice sharp and commanding, “having a Lesser Demon out in the wild is bad, sure. But it’s the least of our problems right now. It’s got nothing to do with this Necromancer case.”
I slammed the letter down on the desk. “Pendragon, you’re not worried about how this thing’s messing with our heads? I sent myself a damn letter because I knew—knew—I’d forget the Demon was even a problem! That’s not normal. That’s dangerous.”
Gabriel stopped pacing, his glare cutting across the room like a blade. “Dangerous, yes. But this isn’t the time. Catch the Necromancer first. Solve the bigger problem. Then you can worry about memory tricks and Demons.” He pointed a finger at me, his tone like a whip crack. “And send yourself another letter if you have to—just don’t have it delivered here again. Do I make myself clear?”
Mattie stood in the corner, quietly absorbing it all, the letter still in her hand. I shrugged, pushing my chair back and grabbing my coat. “Crystal clear, mate,” I said, but the edge in my voice was hard to miss. “We’ll go back out there, check on the patrols, and catch this son of a bitch. But don’t come crying to me when this Demon comes knocking at the worst possible time.”
Gabriel didn’t flinch. “Just go. And Julius?”
I paused at the door, looking back.
“Don’t screw this up.”
I gave him a half-smile, more bitter than reassuring. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
With that, Mattie and I walked out, the tension in the air trailing behind us like a shadow.
