Alex huddled under a wool blanket, its rough weave scratching his shoulders. Despite Cassie’s warming spell, he got chilled easily. His small one-room apartment above the base felt claustrophobic. He’d done little to make it feel like a home, preferring to spend his time down in the central portion of the base. He thought about calling Amy, her voice a lifeline, but she was performing at the club. He wasn’t sure when she’d be on stage. If she were busy, it would be best if he didn’t call. Instead, he texted, “I love you,” his fingers stiff, hoping she’d call when free. The phone rang, shattering the quiet, and Alex’s stomach sank—Russell’s name flashed on the screen. He dreaded his father’s voice but had asked him to research Ethan’s ward, its labyrinthine lines a puzzle too dangerous to ignore. Sighing, he answered, his voice flat. “Hello.” “Where did you see that ward?” Russell demanded, his tone a blade. “I told you, S.P.A. business,” Alex said, pulling the blanket tighter, the room’s chill seeping deeper. “Alexander, where did you see that ward?” Russell repeated, his use of Alex’s full name a rare, ominous breach of their unspoken truce, a warning of his rising anger. “On a wall,” Alex said, his voice steady, evasive. “I can’t tell you more.” “Who cast it?” Russell’s voice hardened, a wizard seeking control. “I don’t know. I’ve told you what I can. Why? What is the spell?” Alex leaned forward. He had never known his father to get so upset about a single spell. “Do I need to convene the council?” Russell threatened, his voice low, a power play. “I don’t answer to them,” Alex shot back. Russell hung up, the silence abrupt, the phone’s screen dark. Alex stared at it, frowning. He rarely upset his father enough for him to do that. He shrugged. Russell could get moody. Alex went back to browsing social media for supernatural reports. It wasn’t part of his job. The S.P.A. had its own people to do that. But most of them were out of touch with dealing with real life and ignored red flags. It also gave him an idea of possible problems they would have to deal with. And he wanted to keep an eye on the train yard. Amy texted to say her boss was in a bad mood, so she couldn’t call. Her boss didn’t like Alex because of the paparazzi who often managed to find him. He thought scandals about the son of one of the wealthiest, most powerful men in the world visiting a strip club would be bad publicity. It didn’t matter that the one time the reporters had found him there, he’d given an interview telling how the club and one of its employees helped save a war hero so he could deliver the intel that allowed the humans to win the war. All the stories had been positive for a change, and the club enjoyed increased business for a few days. But none of that mattered to the owner. He wanted Alex to stay away. Nick’s text flashed: “Heads Up.” Alex frowned, puzzled, until a knock rattled his door, sharp in the quiet. Glancing from phone to door, he stood, draping the blanket over the back of the chair. Alex opened his door to find not only Winters, but also his dad, Malcolm, and Jasper from the wizard’s council. Alex stepped aside, his rule against inviting anyone in a reflex, his voice calm. “Please, have a seat.” He shut the door, its latch clicking, and closed his laptop, its hum fading. Dragging his desk chair to face the room, he pulled two wooden chairs from the small table, their legs scraping. Winters claimed the armchair, its faded fabric sagging, while Russell took the desk chair, his tailored suit out of place in the spartan room. Malcolm and Jasper sat stiffly on the kitchen chairs, the room’s tight space pressing in. Alex leaned against the dresser, its edge digging into his hip, refusing the bed’s vulnerability. “Alex, Russell claims you showed him dangerous magic but won’t say where you found it,” Winters said, his voice smooth but edged, his eyes cold under the room’s flickering bulb. “I don’t know about dangerous magic,” Alex said, his arms crossing, the ward’s lines vivid in his mind. “I showed him part of a ward. He said he didn’t recognize it.” He met Russell’s glare, unyielding. He wasn’t going to give in to Russell even if he was going through Winters. Ethan’s safety was a line he wouldn’t cross. “Where did you get it?” Russell demanded, his fingers gripping the chair, his rings glinting. “S.P.A. work,” Alex said, his voice cool. “You’re not S.P.A.” “What mission, where?” Winters pressed, leaning forward, his suit rustling. “They aren’t S.P.A., sir,” Alex reminded him, his gaze steady, the council members’ silent scrutiny a weight. “I’m your boss. You’ll tell me,” Winters insisted, his voice hardening. Alex nodded, his jaw tight. “But not in front of them.” “And if I insist?” Winters’ eyes narrowed, a test. Alex shook his head, his stance firm, Ethan’s secrets too dangerous to reveal. “This magic’s so dangerous it’s been banned for centuries,” Winters said, his voice low, urgency breaking through. “If they leave, I’ll tell you what I can,” Alex offered, a calculated compromise. Winters nodded. “Gentlemen?” “You can’t be serious,” Russell snapped, his face reddening, his control slipping. “There’s S.P.A. business you don’t need to know,” Winters said, his tone final. “I’ll share what’s necessary.” Malcolm gestured to the door, a subtle nod passing between them. Russell stood, his chair scraping, and stormed out, the others following. Alex shut the door, the lock clicking, his wards humming against eavesdropping. He checked them to ensure they were fully intact. Moving his laptop and phone to a shielded box, its metal clanking, he caught Winters’ assessing gaze. “I don’t appreciate being dragged into your feud with your father,” Winters said, settling back, his fingers steepled, the armchair creaking. “Tell that to him,” Alex said, taking Russell’s chair, pulling at the cuffs of his shirt. “What’s this dangerous spell?” Winters asked, his voice low, probing. “Ask Russell. The last I heard, he didn’t recognize it. Tonight, he called, demanding details but wouldn’t say why,” Alex said, his hands resting on the desk, the wood scarred. “He said it’s ancient magic,” Winters revealed, his eyes narrowing. “Last used by three wizards—the Iverson brothers—who formed a triad to conquer Europe. Two were killed, but the third escaped. The magic was so deadly that the council banned it. Your father fears the third passed it down.” “He’s only interested in stealing it,” Alex said, his voice bitter, Russell’s hunger for power a familiar poison. “Hence your wards,” Winters guessed, his gaze flicking to the glowing sigils. Alex nodded, his fingers brushing the desk’s edge. “If there’s an unregulated wizard, he could be trouble,” Winters pointed out, his tone pragmatic. “I can’t tell you who he is,” Alex insisted, his voice firm, Ethan’s duplex flashing in his mind. “He’s an informant. It was my first time at his place. We usually meet elsewhere. He’s not a wizard. He just has a few wards from a dead dabbler. He copied them, but doesn’t know their power. If my father finds him, he’ll kill him as a rogue.” Winters frowned, his brow furrowing. “That’s not his call.” “Do you think that’ll stop him?” Alex challenged, his hazel eyes locked on Winters’, Russell’s ruthlessness a shared truth. Winters’s frown deepened, his silence heavy. “I’ll need to tell him something.” “Maybe tell him someone found a single ward and started using it during the war. Since then, he’s given up any advancement in magic due to all the regulations. We’ll monitor him,” Alex suggested, his voice steady. Winters nodded, considering. “As an informant, he’d stay anonymous. But what if Russell asks where he got it?” “An occult bookstore on Jefferson,” Alex said, the lie smooth, the store’s wartime destruction a perfect dead end. Winters’ eyes narrowed. “That place was destroyed.” Alex rubbed his bad leg absentmindedly. He’d been there. He, a banshee, and a golem had been the only ones to survive the explosion that covered half the block. The memory of its explosion—flames, screams, a banshee’s wail—still haunted his dreams at times. “Exactly. He won’t dig further.” “You’ll watch this guy?” Winters pressed, his voice insistent. “It’s in everyone’s interest,” Alex assured him, Ethan’s value as a teammate outweighing the risk. “He’s a good resource.” “Good. I need to get back.” Winters stood, his suit rustling, the armchair creaking. “One moment, sir.” Alex rose, erasing a chalk sigil on the wall, its dust scattering. “Jessica?” he called, his voice soft but clear. Jessica materialized, her translucent form shimmering, her flowered blouse faint in the lamplight. “Yes?” She paused, spotting Winters, her eyes widening. “Sir, is there a problem?” “Everything’s settled,” Winters said, his voice calm, assessing her. “Can you check for listening devices?” Alex asked, his gaze flicking to the desk. “Is your computer safe?” Jessica asked, drifting closer, her form flickering. Alex nodded, gesturing to the shielded box. Jessica reached for the desk, her hand brushing a pen, nudging it an inch before passing through, her effort flickering her form. “Nice work,” Alex said, genuine pride in his voice. “It’s impressive,” Winters agreed, his eyes on Jessica. “You’re progressing faster than most ghosts. But how does this help now?” “Ghosts emit electromagnetic fields that fry electronics,” Alex explained, his voice matter-of-fact. “Moving objects amplifies it. Her effort spiked the field tenfold. Any unshielded devices on this floor are junk.” “What about my phone?” Winters asked, patting his pocket. “Are you still using the warded case?” Alex asked. “I am,” Winters confirmed, pulling it out, its sigils faintly glowing. “Then it’s fine,” Alex said, his lips twitching, a rare moment of levity. “Very good. I need to get back,” Winters said, heading for the door. Alex nodded, opening it, the hall’s fluorescent buzz spilling in. Jasper swore outside. It was likely that his phone hadn’t been protected and had been destroyed. Russell’s glare met Alex’s, his face flushed, but Winters stepped between them, his presence a shield. “He destroyed two phones,” Russell accused, his voice sharp. “No, he didn’t,” Winters said, his tone firm. “I asked for an update from the resident ghost. She did it. Why aren’t your phones warded?” He steered Russell and the councilmen toward the stairs, their footsteps fading. “What about the wizard?” Russell demanded. “He’s an informant living in the supernatural district. He’s merely a human with a passion for the occult. He discovered a few wards, and that’s it. He’s not a descendant of the Iverson brothers.” “You’re sure?” Russell pressed. Alex didn’t hear the answer as they had gotten too far down the stairs. “Your dad’s pissed you warded your room against eavesdropping,” Jessica said, her voice amused, her form stabilizing. “Good,” Alex said, a faint smile breaking through, the ward’s protection a small victory. “Is Ethan here?” “He and Nick are playing video games on the rec room’s big screen,” Jessica confirmed, her hair bouncing as she turned. “We all need to talk,” Alex said, his voice heavy, Ethan’s ward a secret he’d nearly betrayed. Jessica nodded. “I’ll tell Cassie and Ash. Kellen’s watching TV.” “Thanks. We’ll meet in the rec room,” Alex said, grabbing his laptop and phone from the box. He needed to brace them for Russell’s next move.