Page 63 of Fated to the Lone Shifter
Marcus walks up, face grim, looking around as if he isn’t sure who is watching. He holds out a warped, half-melted gas can. “Found this about a half mile out,” he says. “Down by the ridge line.”
“Good eye,” the Captain replies, tagging the can with evidence tape before handing it off. “Chain of custody starts now. This wasn’t an accident.”
No one argues.We all feel it.
The fire had help. And the body didn’t die by chance.
I follow the Captain to where the evidence is being collected in one large heap. He adds a few items to the pile and sits down, running his hands through his hair. He looks out across the clearing, dazed, as if he’s seeing something else from another time.
I approach cautiously and lay a hand on his shoulder.
“Captain, are you alright?”
It takes him a moment to register my presence. When he does, he simply shakes his head from side to side, as if there is nothing more he can think of to do.
I cannot bear to see this great man like this. I respect him, but I can feel him dealing with demons from the past, and I cannot let those demons take hold of him right now. We need him to be strong for everything that comes next.
I give him a bottle of water to drink. He gulps it down and tosses the empty container.
I gently take his hands and look directly in his eyes. “Praeteritum dimitte. In praesenti vive,” I whisper—release the past, live in the present. My intention pulses through the wordslike a spell half-spoken, half-felt. The Latin hums low in my chest, slipping through his skin as subtly as heat from a fading ember. I feel my magic move through my fingers into his hands and through his nervous system into the Amygdala section of the brain. He shivers and his arms take turns twitching. Then he exhales and looks me straight in the eye.
“What did you do to me?”
I smile. “You were just dehydrated, Sir. You should be fine now.”
He gets up, a new man. Present and fully in charge. He heads back to perimeter to oversee the final clean-up.
I slink over to the evidence staging area and wait until no one is watching. I bend down, pretending I am organizing the materials. Just a second, just a whisper of breath—and I slip a minor enchantment over the bags. Not enough to tamper, just enough to imprint the magical essence so I can study them later.
As I straighten, I feel a presence behind me.
Marcus.
He watches me, unreadable. “You alright?” he asks.
“Yeah. Just a few scrapes.”
He glances at the pile of evidence, then back at me. “Be careful around this stuff. You get your prints on it, and we might think you’re the arsonist for real this time.”
He winks, but his words feel more like a veiled threat.
“You should ride back with Tori. Let her fix you up.”
I nod. “Thanks. I will.”
He watches me a minute too long before ambling off.
A moment later, he looks back.
“I’m going,” I say again.
“Alright.”
He waves me off and boards one of the firetrucks.
I can’t shake the feeling that his interest had nothing to do with my wellbeing, and more to do with him checking up on me. And he saw something I didn't want him to see.
I glance back at the evidence staging, my enchantment glimmering faintly in the sunlight for any supernatural to see, and then turn toward the ambulance.
