Hiroji’s words from the bar came back to me, taunting me with the truth. Even after all this, I wouldn’t be able to arrest Bianchi. Even if I managed to scrape together some evidence on him, he’d walk in less than a day never having seen the inside of a jail cell. He was too connected, and too rich to suffer such an indignity.

  Yet, the way Murray had gone about his revenge was also wrong. He had killed innocent people and had almost gotten Swift killed. To top it off, he had done it by taking away the kitsune’s freedom. All of this had happened because he had been backed into a corner with no way out, and no one to help him. The IMIB should be able to protect people like him, but it didn’t.

  “Murray, if you kill Bianchi, I won’t be able to help you at all. If you drop the stake, I will do everything in my power to make sure you receive a light sentence; but you have to cooperate now,” I said, desperately trying to reason with him. I could only give him a few moments longer to surrender before I’d have to act. Waiting this long was already stupid of me, but every agent has a moment in their career when they come across someone that, despite everything, they know doesn’t deserve to die.

  Murray pressed the stake against Alberto’s chest, digging the point in. “A light sentence?” he mocked with a hysterical laugh. “He’ll have me killed! There is no way out of this, not anymore!”

  I snuffed out the magic in my right hand and angled my body to hide it. With quick, practiced movements, I traced a rune into the air. Danner must have seen what I was doing because he edged around me, drawing Murray’s attention. At least I hoped that was his plan.

  “You dig that stake in any deeper and you won’t have to worry about Bianchi, kid. I’ll smoke your ass myself,” Danner said. The shadows deepened around him, and he seemed to grow in size. Flames crackled up his arm and balled in his palm.

  Murray lifted his left hand and shook the strange sphere at us. Danner cursed behind me, and my insides went ice cold. That little piece of glass was called a Boom Ball, which was a cute way of describing a magical grenade that would utterly destroy everything in a six-meter radius. “Come any closer, and I’ll drop it!” he shouted, his hand trembling on the stake. “You wanna die protecting this asshole?”

  It was all bravado. He was terrified. His only chance lay in my timing this perfectly. If I didn’t, we were all about to become pink mist.

  I completed the last stroke on the rune and pushed off the ground hard with my back foot, as gravity ended all around us. Murray’s eyes went wide as his feet left the ground. He flailed his arms, as everyone did at the shock of gravity losing its hold on them, and the stake fell from his fingers.

  So did the sphere.

  I shot forward, drawing my katana with the blazing speed I had trained for so long to attain. Twisting the katana as soon as the tip cleared the sheath, I swung the blade in a wide arc and struck him in the chest with a loud thump.

  The blow sent him flying into the concrete wall. His head snapped back, cracking against the unforgiving material. Blood floated up in wobbly spheres from the fresh wound.

  Danner grabbed Alberto, forcing the sun-paralyzed vampire back into the coffin and slamming the lid shut.

  I tucked into a flip just before hitting the wall behind the coffin and kicked off it at an angle, sending myself toward Murray.

  The Boom Ball drifted through the air, pulsing red. That was the other thing about those nasty little grenades. Normally, it took a pretty hard impact to set them off, but they were also runed with a dead man’s device. Five seconds after they were dropped, they’d go off, even if there was no impact. We had two seconds left.

  Murray flailed frantically as I neared him. I ignored the weak hits and wrapped my arm around his neck. I kicked off the wall again and met Danner in the air.

  Danner was calmer than anyone about to die had any right to be. He was tracing a shield rune into the air that wouldn’t stop the blast even if he finished it in time. There was only one option left, and just like in the warehouse, it was a crappy one.

  I pressed all five fingers into the runes on the handle of my katana, and released my mayhem magic in the direction of the Boom Ball. Time seemed to slow. The sphere cracked. Magic flared out of me, dark, destructive, and chaotic.

  Bright orange flames burst from the sphere and billowed in every direction. The ebony magic collided with it and consumed the fire. Acting like a shield, it sent the blast in the opposite direction. But it didn’t stop there.

  The force of the impact threw all three of us, and the coffin, backward. My back hit the wall hard, and I saw stars.

  Magic poured out of me. I could feel it like a ghostly extension of my body as it tore through the house, consuming everything in its path. It was hungry, and it was angry.

  The magic reverberated with the rage I felt at Murray’s situation. At the lack of justice. Maybe I should just let it go. It would destroy us. Destroy Bianchi. Destroy this city. Hiroji said I never changed anything, but I could, so easily. I could change everything.

  That was why I feared my magic. It could so easily consume me, and sometimes I wanted it to. But no matter how much I hated Bianchi and everything he stood for, this wasn’t the answer. Hiroji was right about me in some ways, but he was still wrong about the most important thing. It was still worth it to at least try to do the right thing.

  Dust and debris rained down on us as the house shook down to its very foundation. The magic roared above us. I curled my hand around the katana, and, though I couldn’t re-invoke the runes in my current state, I used the familiar feel of the weapon to ground me. The focus was a crutch. I didn’t need it. I didn’t need it, dammit.

  With a guttural yell, I mentally clawed at the magic, dragging it back into me inch by inch. It felt impossibly heavy. Every muscle in my body strained almost to the point of snapping. My jaw ached. The pressure behind my eyes was unbearable. I kept on. Giving up wasn’t an option.

  The roar of destruction above us slowed, and the dark cloud began rushing back into me. I squeezed my eyes shut, grinding my teeth together against the painful rush of energy. I was in control. Not the mayhem magic. Me.

  With a resounding clap, the last of it snapped back into me. I fell to my knees, dropping Murray in a quivering lump on the ground.

  Danner was the only one that managed to stay on his feet. He looked at me with a pale face, but a stoic expression. “What in the ever-loving fuck was that?”

  Thirty-Eight

  Gravity came back with a vengeance, crushing us into the ground. Murray yelped like a puppy and Danner glared at me, gritting his teeth against the pressure. I quickly traced out the rune to cancel it and collapsed back against the wall.

  “I’ve seen a lot of shit, but my previous question stands. What the fuck was that?”

  My muscles trembled with exhaustion. I pushed up to one knee and looked up at Danner. “I’m a Mayhem Mage.”

  “You say that like it’s a choice. That’s a curse,” he said, narrowing his eyes and chewing on a toothpick. He had to keep them in his cheeks. There was no other explanation.

  “It’s definitely not what I’d called a blessing,” I agreed. Calling it a curse was something of an old mage superstition. No one really understood why a mage was afflicted with out-of-control magic, but there was always one living mage with the burden.

  Murray made a sharp movement, grabbing something from his pocket. I yanked his arm up, and a small orange and yellow ball fell from his fingers, bouncing across the floor.

  Before I had a chance to react, a bright flash momentarily blinded me. A fox sprinted to the ball and picked it up with its mouth. The kitsune looked at me, then vanished with a pop of flame.

  The townhome had been almost completely destroyed, and the two homes on either side had been damaged, as well. Unfortunately, my magic had also hit the bridge that wound along Elliot Bay. No one was hurt, but the road was looking a little worse for wear.

  It was two long hours before I made it back to Swift. Apparently, she had refused medical attention, but the medics didn’t want to let her go until she could be tested for possession.

  I walked through the prosaic police cars, their bright red and blue lights making my already sensitive eyes ache. Swift stood between a prosaic officer and Sergeant Lopez. She had her stubborn face on and was gesturing wildly as she argued with them.

  She spotted me approaching almost immediately and pointed at me, shouting my name across the street. “Come tell them I’m not possessed!” she demanded, her hands balled into fists and her eyes flashing.

  “I don’t know, you sound pretty unstable, still,” I said with a grin as I walked up to the group.

  “I will beat your ass again if you don’t tell them to let me go,” Swift threatened, her fingers twitching.

  The officer took a step back, ready to get out of the way if she followed through on her threats. Lopez just smirked. She’d probably love to watch Swift beat me up.

  I lifted my hands in surrender. “Yeah, that’s definitely her talking. She’s fine,” I said. “Besides, the kitsune got her ball back and is free from the prosaic’s influence.”

  Lopez turned to Swift. “Ice your face, and call me if you get any weird foxy urges,” she warned, clapping her on the shoulder. “And don’t forget about Friday.”

  “What’s going on Friday?” I asked, my interest peaked.

  They both glared at me. “You’re not invited.”

  I took a step back and raised my hands. “All right. Hint taken.”

  “Glad to see your hair is back to normal though,” Lopez said, shaking her head. “The pink was not a good look for you.”

  My hand flew to my head. I spun around and hurried over to the ambulance right next to us. The side mirror was at an awkward angle for looking at myself, but all I needed to see was that my black hair was, in fact, back. I smoothed my hand over it in relief. At least something had gone right today.

  Bradley’s voice boomed in the distance. Some poor soul was taking the brunt of his anger.

  “Time to go,” Swift said, hurrying over and grabbing my arm to drag me away from the crime scene. She had a slight limp, probably from my earlier strike to her leg. It didn’t look like she’d let them heal her at all.

  “While I’m impressed by your high pain tolerance, you do need to heal your injuries soon,” I said, as I followed her into the cafe across the street.

  “Yeah, I’ll get to it.” She grabbed a table by the window and sat down with a grimace. “I told you not to blow up this building,” Swift croaked, her voice nasally because of the broken nose. Her glare was less intimidating with the bruised and bloodied face but way better at inducing a feeling of guilt.

  I scratched the back of my head as I sat down in the chair across from her. “I didn’t blow up the entire building,” I said, staring up at the gaping hole where Frank’s loft used to be.

  Swift shook her head and laughed. “You know what they’re calling us, right?”

  “No, what?” I asked, narrowing my eyes. I had earned some unflattering nicknames in my time, so it wasn’t a huge surprise to hear I had a new one.

  “The Chaos Mages,” she said with a grin.

  I grinned right back. “It’s fitting.”

  Chief Bradley’s face appeared in the cafe window, his expression thunderous. He pointed at us, then crooked his finger, demanding we join him outside. I guess a break had been too much to ask for.

  Thirty-Nine

  We sat across from the Chief in his office. I was still covered in dust and grime. Swift still looked like she’d been punched in the face repeatedly.

  “So, to sum it up, you destroyed the top story of a historical landmark. Then, while trying to arrest a twenty-year-old prosaic, you also destroyed Alberto Bianchi’s home?” Chief Bradley asked with barely restrained anger.

  “Well, when you say it that way, it sounds bad,” I objected. “Most of the top story of those lofts are fine, it was just the one wall, and I’d like to see anyone do better while facing off against a Berserker Mage,” I said, pointing at Swift accusingly.

  Bradley pinched the bridge of his nose and took a dramatic, deep breath. “Do you, at least, know where the money Murray stole ended up?”

  I cleared my throat, but, thankfully, Swift answered for me.

  “It appears that Murray spent a few hundred thousand, but took the rest of the cash to various areas throughout the city where the homeless live, and, uh, made it rain,” she said haltingly. “His words, not mine.”

  Bradley muttered something under his breath then sat up and pinned us both down with a glare. “And the kitsune?”

  “Retrieved her ball during Murray’s arrest and vanished,” I paused, and Bradley’s face darkened. “Since she was a victim in all this, we aren’t making finding her a priority,” I added.

  Swift leaned forward. “According to Section Twelve of the Magi Treatises, the kitsune is protected under the Involuntary Acts Amendment–”

  “I know,” Bradley said, cutting her off. He took a deep breath. “Blackwell, pay for the damages. Swift, get your face healed, and get your expert contact to check you out and ensure you are not still possessed. I expect the two of you here bright and early Monday morning, but you will take the weekend off. I’ll suspend you if I have to.”

  “Yes, sir,” Swift said, sitting up like the straight-A student she probably was.

  I simply nodded and pushed myself out of the chair. Everything ached. I followed Swift out of Bradley’s office, ready to head back to my apartment and relax.

  “Blackwell,” one of the agents said as I walked by. “A package just came in; the return address was for the kid you just arrested, so I left it on your desk.”

  I nodded, “Thanks.”

  Swift waited for me just inside our office. The package sat on the edge of my desk. It was small; whatever was inside couldn’t be bigger than a book.

  “Are you sure it isn’t a bomb?” she asked.

  “Security stamped it as safe,” I said, pointing at the green symbol on the right corner. They scanned every piece of mail that came in to make sure it wasn’t some kind of magical attack.

  “They’re not great with prosaic threats,” Swift said, still suspicious.

  I shrugged and pulled the top open, snapping the tape that held the lid together. Inside was a small, black notebook. I lifted it from the box, turning it over in my hands before opening it.

  Inside was page after page of debts recorded by Castiglione, and the notes linked over half of them to Alberto Bianchi. This must have been what Murray took from the bank. I shut my eyes and ground my teeth together. If we had found this still in the bank, we could have used it as evidence. Murray had made it worthless simply by stealing it. It could never be used in a court case now, especially if the defendant had a competent lawyer, and Bianchi would.

  “What is it?” Swift asked, sounding concerned.

  I handed it to her without speaking. I was too angry to say it out loud. The same laws meant to protect the innocent sometimes protected the guilty, too. Murray was going to go to jail for years, and Alberto Bianchi, the man ultimately responsible for all of this, was going to walk. That wasn’t justice.

  Swift handed the ledger back to me. “Sometimes you can’t get the bad guys, Blackwell.”

  “Is that meant to be comforting?” I snapped, gripping the notebook tightly.

  “Of course not,” she said exasperated. “It’s just a fact. You can beat yourself up about it, or you can look for ways to change things.”

  I pressed my hand to the rune that locked my bottom drawer, then pulled it open. Inside were two medals I’d received in my time at the IMIB. They were shiny wastes of space. I dropped the ledger down on top of them. I wanted it there as a reminder of the cost of failure.

  Forty

  I kicked the door to my apartment shut behind me, then pulled off my jacket and toed off my shoes. I couldn’t track grime all over the tatami mats.

  My shoulder was stiff and achy despite the healing, and I desperately needed a shower. Dust billowed out of my hair when I attempted to run my fingers through it.

  Annoyed, I walked into the bathroom and turned the hot water on. Steam quickly filled the room. I stripped my shirt off and laid it on the counter, neatly folded. Despite how filthy it was, I couldn't bring myself to dump it in a pile on the floor.

  I took off the rest of my clothes, folding them as well, and stepped under the spray of hot water. The dust and grime coating my skin washed down into the drain in dirty rivulets. My shoulder was purple and blue, and scrapes I didn’t even know I had stung in the water. I scrubbed around the injuries then washed my hair quickly.

  The hot water was relaxing. Normally, I would sit in the shower until it was like a sauna, but today all I wanted to do was sleep. I shut the water off and grabbed the towel hanging by the shower door.

  My feet left wet prints as I padded out into the main area of the apartment. I rubbed the towel over my head, then wrapped it around my waist. I stepped around the shōji divider and froze. Someone was in my bed.

  A fluffy orange tail tipped in white stuck up over the comforter. One of the pillows was on the floor. I stepped forward, my toes curling against the tatami mat.

  There, lying on my bed, was a fox.

  "What the hell are you doing here?" I asked, confused and alarmed.

  The fox opened one eye and twitched her ear, then stretched her slender legs out in front of her. She rolled onto her back, nuzzling her head into my pillow and stared at me sleepily.

  "Get off my bed!" I took a step forward to drag her off, but the towel started to slip and I had to catch it. She didn't budge, just burrowed further into the covers. "I mean it. Off, now."

 

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