Page 24

24

JACKSON

S era’s phone buzzes just after noon, right when I’m two sips into a cup of Sera’s aggressively dark coffee that she made for our afternoon slump as I try not to pace.

She’s in her room, probably pretending not to worry. Which is bullshit. She worries more than anyone I’ve ever met—she’s just viciously good at hiding it.

The number for the burner phone flashes onto the screen.

I answer before it rings again. “Lio?”

“Hey, uh... I know you said don’t reach out unless it’s important?—”

“Then this better be important.”

“It is,” they say, voice tight. “I think I found something. Or… something found me.”

I’m already grabbing my coat.

Fifteen minutes later, we’re out where the edge of the city meets forest behind an old hardware store that’s been out of business since before I graduated high school. Lio’s crouched near a tree hood pulled up, eyes darting like they’re expecting something to lunge from the shadows.

Sera’s beside me, silent. Sharp. The wind toys with a strand of her hair, but she doesn’t move.

“Talk,” I say to Lio.

“Okay. So. I’ve got a couple friends. Orphans. Other shifters. They’ve been squatting in the outskirts. You know—after the murders, the riots. Nowhere else to go.”

My jaw clenches. “Go on.”

“They used to hide out in this old sector near the warehouse line, past 92nd. Said it was quiet. Dead. But a few weeks ago... something changed.”

“Define ‘changed,’” Sera says.

Lio swallows. “There’s a guy. Big. Scarred. Lion shifter. Walks like he owns the ground. Ran them out—said it was his place now. One of the kids swore they saw something behind him. Like... people kneeling.”

My gut twists.

“Cult,” I say.

Lio nods. “They thought he was just some lone psycho, but I checked again after the video leak. Heard murmurs—names.”

“What names?” Sera asks.

“ Gideon’s Torch. ”

Silence.

“And Typhon’s Brood. ”

She and I exchange a look.

“I didn’t go in,” Lio says. “I’m not stupid. But... I thought maybe you should.”

The place looks abandoned from the outside—peeling walls, smashed windows, graffiti that’s more than just paint.

Sera points to one of the marks near the door.

“That’s a summoning glyph,” she mutters. “Crude. But old.”

I draw my weapon. “Let’s see what our madman’s been doing in the dark.”

We breach the door in tandem—me first, gun ready, Sera two steps behind with a binding spell thrumming in her hands.

Inside is Hell.

Candles burned to puddles. Bones. Ash. Charred sigils. Runes scratched into the floor with what looks a lot like blood.

And people.

They’re alive.

Or... they were.

I count seven bodies, all posed in ritual circles, skin marked with black ink that pulses faintly.

Sera moves to the center of the room, her breath catching.

Then there are footsteps.

Heavy. Purposeful.

He walks into the open like he’s been waiting. And maybe he has.

He’s massive—easily six-foot-five, body all muscle and scars, his face a roadmap of violence. One golden eye. One milky white. His presence makes the air go cold despite the stench of magic and rot. He lifts his arms. And kneels.

“I knew you’d come,” he says, grinning wide. “They told me you would.”

Sera steps forward, slowly. “You’re the killer.”

“I’m the conduit,” he says. “The hand. The offering. My work is done.”

“Why the murders?” I demand. “Why the fucking kids?”

He laughs. “Because they needed to spell it out. The old tongue. You have to write it in pain. In bone. You have to mean it. ”

“You sick son of a?—”

“I wanted you to find me,” he says. “Because I’ve done my part. And now, it’s her turn.”

His eyes flick to Sera.

She doesn’t flinch. But her magic pulses in the air like a heartbeat about to flatline.

“Get him out of here,” she says.

“You sure?” I murmur.

Her voice is low. Steady. Deadly.

“Yes.”

By nightfall, the killer’s in PEACE custody.

But I can feel it—none of this is over. Not even close. Because he wanted to be caught. And he looked at Sera like she was the final piece of the puzzle.

And if he’s right, then we just opened the door.