Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Eighteen

The Supreme Court – Raven

Well, I'd really stepped in it this time.

The detective's face had gone from puzzled to paper-white, and a fine tremor had started in her hands. The rapid, shallow breathing, the slight sway in her stance, the way her eyes had gone glassy and unfocused - I recognised the signs of an impending panic attack. Just what the bloody hell was going on with her? You didn't get this kind of reaction from someone who'd just been kept in the dark. No, this was what happened when someone started remembering things they'd been made to forget.

MacTire's growl wasn't helping matters. "Of all the idiotic—"

"Not now," I cut him off sharply, keeping my eyes on Marchant. We needed to move, and fast, before she either passed out or started screaming. Neither option would end well in these halls. "My quarters. Now."

I didn't wait for his agreement before heading back towards my quarters, half-dragging, half-guiding the shell-shocked detective through the Court's labyrinthine passages. OK, so it wasn’t exactly protocol, but I wasn’t fond of the idea of trying to explain this mess to the Seneschal and throwing myself on his mercy. I tried for levity, hoping to defuse the situation before it spiralled completely out of control.

"Come on, I was just mucking about," I said, forcing a laugh that sounded hollow even to my ears. "Thought it would be funny..."

"Take your hands off me!" Marchant's voice cracked with hysteria when MacTire finally got with the program. "What the hell are you doing? Have you completely lost your mind?”

Her eyes darted between us, settling on her fellow detective. "Why are you helping her MacTire? - You’re assaulting a fellow officer!”
When he remained silent, she thrashed harder, and got considerably louder. “This is false imprisonment. I'll have you up on charges, both of you!”

MacTire finally lost his patience. With a low growl that was decidedly more wolf than human, he clapped one massive hand over her mouth, muffling her protests. I shot him a sharp look—really not helping the situation, mate—but couldn't deny the blessed relief from her increasingly hysterical tirade.

We managed to navigate the rest of the way without drawing too much attention, though I caught more than a few curious glances from those we passed. Nothing to see here folks, just another day in the life of Raven Chen, resident null and professional chaos magnet.
I let out a relieved sigh when we bundled into my quarter’s reception area. MacTire released Marchant, slammed the door and took up post, an imposing wall blocking off Marchant’s easiest path of escape.

Right. So we’d got her here. I turned to face her, thinking over the speech I’d been preparing since I’d dragged her off. Something, hopefully, plausible that she might believe… if I could just calm her down, I could talk my way out of this mess.

Marchant spun around, eyes locking onto something over my shoulder. The scream she let loose could have shattered glass.
“So loud!!” Ember's panicked voice echoed in my head, “don't let the human get me auntie!!!”

Oh, bloody hell.

I glanced up to where Marchant was staring, my so-not-imaginary-and-definitely-uninvited little dragon had let herself in and made herself at home. Perching atop the bookshelf, her scaled form trembled slightly as she peered down at our unexpected visitor.

Perfect. Just perfect. Now I had a terrified dragon to deal with too. Some days, it really didn't pay to get out of bed.

Marchant’s scream petered out with her increasing need to draw breath. She blinked rapidly, rubbed her eyes, then looked again.

Ember was, unsurprisingly, still there.

Well, so much for playing this off as a joke. The mythological cat was well and truly out of the bag now—or should I say, the dragon was out of the... no, focus, Raven. One crisis at a time.

"Right then," I said, pinching the bridge of my nose. "About that explanation..."

“This ought to be good.” MacTire, helpful as ever, picked the perfect time to find his voice again.

"Look, you're scaring her," I said quickly, gesturing toward Ember, “do you think you could hold it together for a while?” Probably not the most diplomatic opening, but needs must when you've got a panicked copper and a frightened dragon in the same room. "Just... try to breathe, alright? Deep breaths."

Marchant's face had gone, if possible, even whiter. "S-scaring her?" She let out a slightly hysterical laugh. "I'm scaring her?"

"Yes, actually." I kept my voice deliberately calm, like I was talking down a spooked horse. "And before you ask – no, you're not hallucinating. Yes, that's a real dragon. Yes, the supernatural world exists. And yes, those headaches you've been getting? That fuzzy feeling when you try to remember certain things? That's because they wiped your memory. Standard procedure when mundanes stumble across something they shouldn't."

MacTire made a strangled noise behind me. "Raven, you can't just—"

"Bit late for secrets now, don't you think?" I shot back. "Besides, she's already breaking through the memory wipe. You said yourself we can't do it again without risking permanent damage."

Marchant had started pacing, her detective's mind visibly working overtime despite the shock. She stopped abruptly, spinning to face MacTire. "The MCD," she said slowly. "It's not Major Crimes Division at all, is it?"

"Magical Crimes Division," he confirmed with a grimace. "Surprise?"

She reached out and poked him hard in the chest, making him blink in surprise. Then she pinched her own arm. "Right. Not dreaming. So..." Her eyes narrowed as she studied him. "What you said about enhanced senses, the mood swings around the full moon... you're actually a—"

"Werewolf," I supplied helpfully. "Along with Raaf and quite a few others at the Court. They work as Sentinels – sort of like supernatural police."

"And you?" She turned those sharp eyes on me.

"Nothing so exciting. I'm what they call a null – no magic of my own." I shrugged. "Just like a regular human."

"And..." Her gaze drifted up to where Ember was still perched, watching the proceedings with undisguised interest. "That's really a...?"

"Dragon? Yes. Quite rare, actually. Highly territorial, extremely intelligent..." I paused, unable to resist adding, "...and she's just a baby, really. Would you like to hold her?"

“I am NOT a baby!” Ember's indignant voice rang in my head as she stomped one foot on the bookshelf, sending a shower of dust down on us. “I am a fearsome creature and—ooh, she wants to cuddle?”

I bit back a smile as Marchant, despite everything, took a hesitant step forward. Her hand was halfway extended toward Ember's outstretched neck when the door burst open behind us.

"What," thundered an all-too-familiar voice, "is the meaning of this?"

“Uh oh.” Ember vanished in a blink. “Don't like the shouty man. Bye!”

The Seneschal stood in the doorway, his face promising a world of trouble. How, I wondered, could this day possibly get any worse.

The Seneschal's thunderous arrival sent ripples of tension through the room. His imposing figure filled the doorway, dark eyes sweeping over the scene with barely contained fury. Behind me, I heard Marchant's sharp intake of breath.

"Raven Chen." Each syllable dripped with careful, measured anger. "I might have known you'd be at the centre of this... disturbance."
"My Lord Seneschal." I offered a small bow, more reflex than respect at this point. "What a pleasant surprise."

"Pleasant?" His lip curled. "I've had staff reporting raised voices, unauthorised persons in restricted areas, and now I find you've brazenly exposed our existence to yet another mundane?" He jabbed a finger in my direction. "After the debacle at the auction house? The incident at the police station? Your reckless disregard for our laws cannot continue!"

He gestured sharply, and I found myself being herded towards the door along with the others. "My office. Now."

Surrounded once again by Sentinels, we walked—or, if I’m being honest, were marched— straight into the heart of Court. There were no curious glances now, people stopped and openly stared, though they all quickly found somewhere else to be when the Seneschal glared in their direction. The Seneschal fumed, alternating between muttered imprecations about my judgement and rapid-fire instructions into his phone telling someone to ‘clean up my mess’ and ‘contain the situation’.

"With all due respect," I finally cut in, spitting mad at being blamed for everything, again, "but how exactly is this my fault? A serving member of the MCD visits the Court on official business, and I'm to blame for not knowing she hadn't been properly briefed?"

Marchant, who'd been unnaturally quiet since we left my quarters, suddenly spoke up. Her voice carrying a sharp edge to it. "Briefed? Is that what you call it? Because from where I'm standing, it sounds an awful lot like you people have been messing with my head and are now discussing how to... what? Make me disappear?"

The Seneschal's stride faltered for just a moment, but it was enough for her to confirm her darkest fears. I watched her face drain of colour, again, not needing to be a mind reader to recognise the conclusion she’d leapt to. I was pretty sure nothing would actually happen to her, this theatre was designed to scare her into compliance. My chances, on the other hand, I wasn’t so sanguine about - not while it was obvious he was treating this as another of my fuck ups.

"And it wasn't even me at the station," I continued, as if she hadn’t interrupted. Fury making me reckless. Heads turned at my volume, but I was past caring. "Hews triggered the glyph. You want someone to blame for the station, blame him. He's a latent—" The words caught in my throat as the Seneschal’s disapproving frown landed back on me. Way to throw Hews under the bus, Raven. So much for protecting him.

"Wait, what?" Marchant's eyes widened. "Hews is one of you too?"

We’d reached the Seneschal's office door, and he turned to face us with glacial calm. "This changes nothing," he said, though some of the thunder had gone from his voice. "You've still broken the Accords. Again." His gaze shifted to Marchant, then back to me. "And now we'll have to look into this Hews situation as well."

Behind him, the heavy oak door swung open, revealing the opulent office beyond. “As to you detective,” the Seneschal said, turning his focus to Marchant. "I must confess, this is an... unexpected situation."

He gestured for us to enter his office, Marchant’s tension palpable as we had little option but to follow. Once inside, he settled in behind his battered desk, steepled his fingers and silently considered Marchant for a small eternity.

“Given the circumstances,” he finally said, “I believe we may be able to reach an accord. You have, quite by chance, become privy to the existence of our world - a world that must remain hidden from mundane eyes. Normally, in a case such as this, we would have no choice but to... remove your memories of these events but as that’s no longer an option..."

Marchant visibly paled at his words, but to her credit, she held her ground. "So I'm to be killed, then? To protect your precious secret?"
The Seneschal raised a hand, forestalling her protests. "Not at all, detective. While the Accords do demand the secrecy of our existence, they also provide for... alternative arrangements, in certain circumstances… something I believe Raven and MacTire were in the process of explaining to you when I interrupted."

Marchant's brow furrowed, but she remained silent, waiting for him to continue.

"I am prepared to allow you to retain your memories - on the condition that you become a signatory to the Accords."