Page 32 of Hex and the Kitty

Warrick crouched to eye level. “This is special foam today. Someone played a trick on us, but that’s okay.” He scooped a handful of the glittery substance. “It’s harmless. Look.”

He let the foam drip through his fingers, eliciting gasps as pink sparkles caught the light.

“Can we touch it?” A girl with braids bounced on her toes.

“Of course.” Warrick gestured them forward. “Carefully now.”

As the children cautiously approached the foam, David leaned in close. “This isn’t random, is it?”

“Not by a long shot,” Warrick murmured. “And Gus was just here.”

David’s expression hardened. “You think he?—“

“I think we need proof before making accusations.” Warrick watched the children now flicking foam at each other. “For now, let’s turn this into a win.”

He returned to the group, clapping his hands to gain their attention. “Who wants to see how firefighters handle unexpected situations?”

A chorus of “Me! Me!” rang through the garage.

“First rule of firefighting—always be prepared for anything.” Warrick guided them to a relatively foam-free area. “Even pink sparkly surprises.”

For the next forty minutes, Warrick and his team transformed disaster into adventure. He demonstrated safety techniques while ankle-deep in glittering foam. David helped children practice “stop, drop, and roll” on a cleared section of floor, though many ended up with pink-streaked clothing.

Despite the obvious sabotage, Warrick found himself enjoying the absurdity. The children’s laughter proved infectious, and even his most serious firefighters cracked smiles as they directed impromptu foam activities.

“And now,” Warrick announced, “we’re going to have a special foam parade! Everyone form a line behind Firefighter Peterson.”

As the children shuffled into position, each proudly holding a small scoop of glittery foam, the air around them rippled.

Warrick’s shifter instincts flared an instant before ghostly flames erupted along the garage walls. Unlike natural fire, these flames gave off no heat—but they danced with hypnotic menace, expanding and contracting like living things.

“What the—“ David started.

The sprinkler system engaged with a mechanical whine, drenching everyone below. Children screamed—some in fear, others in delight—as water cascaded down, mixing with the pink foam to create a pastel nightmare.

“Everyone stay calm!” Warrick commanded, his voice cutting through the chaos. “These aren’t real flames. They can’t hurt you.”

But the phantom fires continued their eerie dance, triggering more sprinklers as they spread. Water and foam created a slippery hazard across the garage floor.

“Ms. Marissa, please take the children to the break room,” Warrick directed. “Peterson, Jackson—escort them and make sure they’re comfortable.”

As the children were ushered away, Warrick surveyed the mess with narrowed eyes. These weren’t simple pranks. The phantom flames bore the unmistakable signature of magical interference—deliberate sabotage meant to disrupt and humiliate.

“Chief!” Ramirez called from across the garage. “You need to see this!”

Warrick made his way over, careful on the slick floor. Ramirez knelt beside the main fire engine, pointing underneath.

“I was doing a standard check before moving the engine for the kids to see.” Ramirez’s face had gone pale. “The brake lines have been cut.”

TWENTY-FIVE

Ice slid down Warrick’s spine. A cold, dangerous fury built within him, sharpening his senses until he could hear every water droplet hitting the floor. The playful foam was one thing—potentially embarrassing but ultimately harmless. Cut brake lines crossed into life-threatening territory.

His first thought wasn’t of the station or his reputation, but of Molly. If the saboteur targeted what mattered to him...

“Are you certain?” Warrick asked though he could see the truth for himself.

“Clean cuts,” Ramirez confirmed. “Not wear and tear. Someone did this deliberately.”

---