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It also might explain why my magic didn’t work the night Irving and I were attacked. It might not have been a concussion, or not just a concussion. It could be that I was up against spells I didn’t account for.

I dive back in, determined to absorb everything so that by the time the team have dealt with the protest and task force, I’m a Nagual expert. Or expert-adjacent.

The story goes on to warn of things that could lead to the Nagual’s downfall. If a shield isn’t activated prior to the shift, larger shifters will be able to defeat the Nagual. A more powerful magic-user has the potential ability to strip them of their magic if they get through their protections.

She references a page in one of the older grimoires here, so I immediately search for the grimoire in question.

When I finally locate the correct page in the ancient brown leather book, a grimoire so stuffed full of loose-leaf pages that its binding looks severely under threat, I take another photo and send it on the team chat.

I scan the instructions for entirely stripping another magic-user of magic. There are also instructions for binding their magic temporarily, which I plan to be the option I use to capture the murderer since stripping a person’s magic is irreversible and incredibly cruel.

My mum did it once when I was eight. It was the judgement of the coven that the man in question was guilty of unspeakable crimes I wasn’t allowed to know about. I saw the punishment enacted though, because I snuck into the room and watched. His screams gave me nightmares for weeks.

I absorb as much as I can about both methods. Hopefully I can come back to this later before we attempt an arrest. I go back to the original grimoire so I can read the rest of it and have just reached the bottom of the page when the fire alarm for the building sounds.

Shit, that’s not good. I can’t put spells on the grimoires themselves, which means I need to add to the protections already on the flat.

I could layer in the necessary spells to the ward I built the first night I stayed here, but that risks detection by humans if the building burns down and Ethan’s flat is the only thing left intact.

But the grimoires are insanely important.

I can’t have three hundred and fifty years of family history go up in flames.

I grab as many grimoires as I can carry and rush to the bedroom, shoving them all under the bed along with my mum’s grimoire, which is already there.

It takes me four trips to get them all in one location, but it gives me a much smaller area to protect.

Hopefully, if the place burns down a small, undamaged area won’t look too suspicious.

Fingers crossed it’s just a test or a false alarm, but I won’t find that out until I get out of here, and time is running out even though it must take a while to evacuate a building of this size.

I clutch my focus, mainly for reassurance, and my moonstone pulses weakly. I’m really not recovered enough to be using this much magic so soon, but what choice do I have? I won’t access the ley line without someone to pull me back out.

It doesn’t actually take me long to put fire retardant and waterproofing spells on the area under the bed. By the time I’m done, my limbs are heavy and I just want to lie down and sleep. I force myself to summon the energy to shove my feet into my shoes and leave the flat.

As I suspected, people are still making their way down from the higher floors. I sway a little on the stairs and am saved from tumbling head first when someone grabs my shoulder. “Whoa, are you okay, mate?”

“Dizzy,” I murmur. Fuck. My focus lies cold and lifeless around my neck, which is seriously disconcerting.

“Here, lean on me, Ayo.” My magic says it’s a wolf shifter, so I agree, vaguely recognising the man from visits with Zaiden and Dante. At least I won’t weigh him down like I would if it were a human.

It takes forever to descend the fourteen floors from Ethan’s flat since everyone else in the building is using the stairs as well. We’re one dizzying spiral of descending in a surprisingly orderly queue.

No one seems to be panicking, so maybe it’s just a drill?

“Is this a test?” I ask my new friend.

“Yeah, everyone got a letter about it.”

Ethan must have forgotten to tell me, what with everything going on. Although I didn’t realise any of Dante’s pack were living in the neutral zone? The man is probably just visiting a friend or something. Whatever the reason, I’m grateful to him for helping me.

We finally reach the bottom and spill out into the central courtyard area between the four skyscrapers that contains all kinds of picnic tables and some green space.

My new friend helps me to one of the picnic tables and someone already there stands so I can sit, which is nice of them. Maybe I look as drained as I feel.

“Thank you, I’m okay now,” I say to my new friend. I really don’t want to be any more of a burden to him. “What’s your name?”

“Doesn’t matter, mate.” It strikes me as an odd thing to say right around the time I notice I’m surrounded by supes. There are plenty of humans nearby, of course, but none of them are paying attention. They’re all focused on their phones.

In fact, the person who moved for me is a cat shifter. Why aren’t they at the protest?

Too late, I realise I’ve left myself vulnerable. I try to erect a personal shield, but I’m too slow or too magically burnt out or something, because there’s a prick at my neck, and a moment later the world goes black.