Page 76 of Suspicions on the Stage
Channing scoffs, loud enough for the coroner to glance up. “It’s only a murder if they prove intent. Maybe it was an accident. He could have stabbed himself with something. He was tinkering with those generative spells… maybe one went sideways. No one really knows what magic they were trained on.”
Kaspar raises an eyebrow. “They’re not going to buy that, Channing. They want a suspect, not a story.”
I feel the pressure rising in my temples. If there’s any upside to today, it’s the novelty of being stuck in a room with all your mates and possible mates, none of whom are actively fighting each other for once. For that, I’m grateful, at least. What comes after this circus will be harder, and we’ll need to stick together to get through it.
“Kendrick and Rainier will find something if there’s anything to find,” Channing whispers. “And Foley is a mastermind, Morgana. Trust Jax has the best people you’ve ever seen. I know because I’ve been around them so much lately.”
I nod, but I can’t shake the sense that today is a prelude and not a finale. Even Jackson’s calm has an edge to it. When I glance up at the balcony, I catch a flicker of movement—maybe the sweepers, maybe something else.
“Why do you trust them so much?” I ask Channing quietly.
She shrugs. “Because I’ve been working with them like you asked. I’ve seen them accomplish a lot, even if it’s not stuff Jackson needs to report to you. And I hear what they’re doing for other cases, too. When you add Eli to the mix, it makes their team even stronger. Believe me, it’s astounding.”
Kaspar snorts, not unkindly. “Says the woman who totally isn’t involved with any of them.”
Channing gasps, giving the dragon a dirty look. “Shut up, Kaspar. No one asked for your opinion, especially regarding my private life.”
Way to go, Channing.
Grinning to myself, I check my phone for the hundredth time. I keep hoping that whatever Eli is doing to get The Serpent involved will happen and I’ll get some sort of coded message or something. That’s probably ridiculous, but I have no idea how this works.
Iggy finally scoots up the aisle to join us, still radiating wounded dignity. “I don’t think they’re going to tell me anything. That hound is a real stickler for the rules, and his boss won’t even look at me. Can you imagine? I’m aBriarton.”
“The nerve of her,” I deadpan. “I can’t believe she didn’t fall at your feet when you announced that lineage.”
He glances at the stage and shudders. “I love my job, but if I die at this place, I’m haunting whoever the fuck killed me for the rest of eternity. Not a soul in this department could find their ass with both hands, a map, and a locator spell.”
I can’t disagree—if I hadn’t tracked Magnus down in Europe, they never would have caught me.
Jackson’s phone buzzes, and he checks it, face going tight. “Kendrick. He says they found something, but he’s not saying what. Just that it’s... not subtle.”
Channing’s eyebrows arch. “Not subtle how?”
“He didn’t say, but they’re on their way back.”
I close my eyes for half a second, because it’s all I can do. When I open them, Lucas is looking at me from the edge of the stage, and I realize he’s been watching this whole time. I try to give him a reassuring smile, but it probably looks more like a wince. I want to tell him it’s going to be fine, that the facts will matter, that the system still has a place for us in it. But it would be a lie, and he’d know it.
Instead, I sigh and wait for the next act.
When Dr. Balorrises and stands on the apron of the stage, raising her arms for silence, it feels like a final curtain call. It’s nothing like the ones Rialto got when he was alive, I’m sure, but this is the last one he’s getting. Her voice—when she unleashes it—cuts the theater in half as it rings out.
“That will be all for now,” she says, chin high. “Witnesses are excused from the stage. We no longer need them in place to process.”
Her hellhound assistant hustles over to usher Lucas and Slade toward the wings. Lucas doesn’t break stride, but Slade’s face is white as printer paper, and the way his eyes keep flicking from the corpse to the fire exit suggests he’d rather be anywhere else.
This is going to haunt them for a while, I think.
Detective Kowalski stirs from his huddle at the back of the house and blunders down the aisle, all splayed hands and fake urgency. “Where do you two think you’re going?” he bellows, as if the previous two hours had not been one uninterrupted stream of waiting around for the coroner’s say-so.
“Bathrooms?” Lucas asks.
Jax stands, looking at the slob as he says, “They need a break, Detective. They’re not in custody.”
“Yet,” Kowalski mutters. “I just don’t want anyone wandering off. Sergeant, monitor them.”
The quiet shifter intercepts Lucas and Slade at the foot of the stairs as directed without a word. Slade points toward a door at the other side of the theater and the officer nods. My siren leads the way with the bear and the escort in tow, and I sigh in relief.
My blood pressure spikes at Kowalski’s tone. It’s not just that he thinks my mates are guilty—it’s that he’s not even subtle about it. “Was it necessary to assign a chaperone for a bathroom break?” I say, too crisp.
