Page 24

I was in a foul mood all weekend.

There had to be a way through. A way to twist the rules and come out clean.

For now, all I could do was go along, buy time, and prevaricate until I found a solution. Maybe the agent wasn’t blameless—he was cooperating with another faction to undermine Dacien. He wasn’t innocent, but it was entirely possible, if not likely, that he was being coerced.

I wasn’t going to hand over a man like that to Dacien, no matter how hard he pushed or threatened.

Kara tiptoed around me with concerned glances, opening her mouth as if to say something—apologize again, most likely—then thinking better of it and glancing away, chewing her lip. That act got old fast.

It was bad enough that Dacien was forcing me to hand over a SPAR agent to him, but the constant reminder of his daughter, every minute of the day, only made it worse. It was hard not to resent her for this mess, even though neither the bond nor her father’s demands were her fault.

Monday I went shopping to pick up a sheet for the sofa and a blanket to cover me, just so I wasn’t practically naked every morning when she walked in.

I also bought a couple of blazers and shirts with French cuffs for Dacien’s cufflinks, and Kara gave me a drawer and some wardrobe space. In her bedroom.

Emma texted me. She was back home with her folks in Pennsylvania.

Classes were resuming online, but she didn’t know when.

She wanted to meet up, but it was a six-hour drive.

I sent her back something non-committal, feeling guilty that I was glad she was so far away.

Her interest was obvious, but there was no room for her in my life, either as an employee or as a norm.

Besides, with everything now going on, it was better she wasn’t involved.

On Tuesday a package arrived from Dacien. Inside, a SPAR ID pass on a lanyard, the necessary paperwork, and a curt note to turn up the next day.

Wednesday morning was tense.

I got dressed in the bathroom, and when I came out, Kara was wearing a fitted black blazer over a soft cream blouse, tucked into a high-waisted pencil skirt that hit just above the knee. Her heels were sleek, her hair swept up, her makeup understated. A picture of the perfect assistant.

She looked at me guiltily—eyes glassy, lips with a slight tremor, like she couldn’t quite bring herself to speak.

“Grow some spine, Kara,” I said as I adjusted my cuffs. “You can’t walk in looking like a kicked dog.”

Her expression wiped away, replaced with the glare that, strangely, I realized I’d been missing.

“Yeah, much better.” I nodded. “Go with that one.”

We left her car behind and took an Uber, as I rather doubted many ‘ethics consultants’ drove Aston Martins.

The HQ for the Bureau of Supernatural Protection and Regulation was in Mount Pleasant on the west of town, a sprawling building complex, gray concrete and glass.

Protestors with placards shouted from behind hastily erected fences as we drove in.

Once inside, we were taken to security—phones handed over for a quick check—and walked through without any issues.

Dacien’s cufflinks didn’t even set off the metal detector.

“Welcome, Mr. Sullivan.” A lady in a gray trouser suit met us on the far side, offering her hand for a brief shake. “I’m Natalie Carr, assistant PA to Director Marlow. She’s in a meeting until ten, but she’s asked me to give you a brief tour.”

“Thank you,” I said. “This is my assistant, Kara Hargrave.” We’d agreed on the name; it didn’t seem like a good idea to advertise she was a Halden.

“Oh, so sorry, I wasn’t aware,” Natalie replied. She gave Kara a welcoming smile. “We will need to register with security, then we can get you an ID badge. Temporary, I’m afraid, but I’ll upgrade you to an access card by the end of the day.”

A meeting already scheduled with the director and no questions asked about my assistant? Dacien had some serious connections.

Natalie led us through the hallways, past open-plan offices, her polished heels clicking sharply against the cold, white tile floors. The walls were adorned with sleek, minimalist art—abstract designs that blended with the clean, streamlined aesthetic.

“I understand you are a professor of philosophy and ethics at New Providence Bay University.” Dacien had given me a promotion to lend a little weight, and it was even reflected on the website, along with some publications I hadn’t written.

The faculty might raise eyebrows, but with the uni closed, there was a good chance it would go unnoticed. “Such a terrible business. So sorry.”

“Well, now we’re working to the same goals.”

“Yes, of course.” She gave me a smile.

We walked through into a spacious foyer with a ceiling several floors high. Plenty of seating dotted around the edges for impromptu meetings, a few tables near a Starbucks where some SPAR officers queued. “This is what we call the Nexus,” Natalie said. “Would you like a coffee?”

“Just the tour, thank you.”

She nodded once. “SPAR has seven departments.” She gestured to a large double door on our left, with ‘Containment Division’ set into the wall above in block capitals.

“Containment is responsible for locating, apprehending, and securing supernatural threats. With the largest facility nationally, we hold some of the nastiest supes—Theron Vale, Marietta Kye, Anton Reznik.”

“I remember him,” I said, grimacing. “He’s the mind-control supe that ran that cult back in 2014.” I couldn’t help but glance guiltily at Kara, seeing the parallels.

“The very same,” Natalie said. “Don’t worry, Containment is below-ground and triple-reinforced.

Controlled access, negative pressure, multiple redundancies.

It’s impregnable. Plus Field Ops is in that department, as is the Rapid Engagement and Apprehension Containment Team.

” She smiled apologetically. “It’s a mouthful, but someone liked that it spelled ‘REACT’.

” She turned to gesture across the Nexus.

“Opposite is Research and Development, for the handling of supe data, power classification and countermeasure design. Records and Archives is its own division, but it’s accessed off of R Vera Kline, Head of Media Liaison. Natalie stopped outside Firth’s office and knocked twice before opening the door.

“Dr. Firth? Your guests.”

His office was stark but still managed to reflect his seniority.

The desk was broad and uncluttered, its dark wood polished to a quiet sheen, the furniture sharp-lined and functional, the kind of expensive that didn’t need to announce itself.

No personal touches, no photographs or mementos, but the space didn’t feel empty. It felt intentional.

The man that rose was lean and sharply dressed, wearing a tailored black SPAR field jacket like a uniform. His gray hair was clipped and precisely parted, and a neat moustache sat above a thin mouth.

“Mr. Sullivan, the ethics consultant,” he said, somehow managing to imply his disapproval despite his crisp delivery. “Have a seat. Thank you, Natalie.”

“Call me Xan,” I said as I walked in. He hadn’t offered a hand to shake, so neither did I, sitting down with Kara taking the seat beside me. “This is my assistant, Kara Hargrave.” He hadn’t bothered to acknowledge her and still didn’t, settling into his chair once more.

He propped his elbows on the armrests, steepled his fingers, and looked at me over the top of them.

“Frankly, I’m not sure why you’re here. This is a political move, unnecessary and heavy-handed.

We’re quite capable of managing ethics without the assistance of an academic.

Why don’t you tell your paymasters to leave us to do our jobs? ”

Fine, we were dispensing with the cordial welcomes. Suited me.

“I imagine you’ve had plenty of opportunity to review the Halloween incident. Tell me, Dr. Firth, what was your response time in the end?”

His lips thinned. “I’m well aware that changes need to be made. We’re making them. That doesn’t mean—”

“Grand.” I interrupted him. “I’ll start there, then. Have my assistant furnished with all the details.”

A muscle in the side of his jaw twitched. “You’ve been at SPAR”—he glanced at the clock—“forty-two minutes, and you’re giving me orders?”

“Well, we had to do the tour.”

His nostrils flared. “You’re wasting my time, Mr. Sullivan. Come back when your remit includes my division. Which it does not.”

I stood up. “Thanks for seeing me, Dr. Firth. I have a meeting with Director Marlow now, so let’s chat after that.”

I didn’t wait for whatever sharp retort he wanted to give, but walked out, Kara behind me.

Natalie wasn’t far away, talking to someone, but she disengaged and came straight over. “That was quick. Did you get what you wanted?”