Page 26 of Once Upon a Curse for True Love (Paranormal Romance #2)

“Power,” Professor Blackwood replied simply.

“Each soul absorbed strengthens his abilities. With enough stolen consciousnesses, a lich could be more powerful than a dozen wizards. We believe this has not happened yet, and that the lich’s first clumsy attempt backfired on him with Arcanet’s consciousness being uploaded to a server.

Or he wasn’t aware of this power, but he’s bound to have noticed now. ”

Andromeda shuddered beside him. Donatello reached for her hand, lacing his fingers through hers. Callidora noticed, and her eyebrows shot up again. Not his biggest worry right now. The possibility of Graves consuming Andromeda’s soul was a blade drawn down his spine.

Professor Blackwood continued, detailing the known powers and weaknesses of liches.

They were resistant to physical attacks.

Standard stunning spells would slow them but not incapacitate them.

Their control over death magic allowed them to command shadows, and sometimes, even reanimate the dead to serve them.

“The most important thing to understand,” she concluded, “is that liches aren’t just powerful—they’re patient. Graves has likely been planning this for decades, maybe centuries. He won’t be easily outsmarted or surprised.”

King stepped forward again. “Thank you, Professor. Now, despite the grim picture Professor Blackwood has painted, we have several advantages our ancestors lacked.”

He gestured to Dr. Oakheart, who approached the table.

“Death magic, while potent, leaves distinct traces,” she explained.

“Our modern detection methods can track these energy signatures in ways that were impossible four hundred years ago. We scanned the city.” She pointed to a map on the display, where a pulsing red dot appeared on the outskirts of Salem.

“We believe this is where Graves has retreated to regroup after being discovered.”

“It’s an abandoned pharmaceutical research facility,” King added. “Closed down five years ago after a contamination incident. Ironically, it’s been avoided by locals—human and magical alike—ever since because of rumors of hauntings, which may have been Graves’s doing to secure his privacy.”

A tall, dark-skinned man in full tactical gear stepped forward, commanding attention.

“This is Special Agent Cornelius Zane,” Chief King introduced. “He’ll be heading the joint task force assigned to neutralize this threat.”

The man nodded in acknowledgment. “Thank you, Chief Inquisitor.” His voice was deep, with a slight Southern accent that made his authoritative tone more personable. “I won’t sugarcoat this. We’re facing an extremely dangerous magical entity. But powerful doesn’t mean invincible.”

He tapped the table, and the display changed to show a detailed schematic of the abandoned facility.

“Our intelligence indicates Graves is holed up in the main laboratory building.” He pointed to a central structure.

“With only three exit points, which we’ll cover with teams from the SMPD.

” He nodded toward several officers. “Meanwhile, my specialized strike team will make the primary breach through the loading dock.”

Zane’s finger traced the planned entry route. “We’ve analyzed the magical signatures detected by Dr. Oakheart. The highest concentration is in what used to be the main testing laboratory. That’s likely where Graves has set up his base of operations.”

“What about the darkness?” Donatello asked. “When we encountered him, he summoned a shadow cloud that made it impossible to see.”

Zane nodded. “We’ve accounted for that. Three members of my team are Nocturnes.

” He gestured to a group of agents standing near the wall, and a hush went through the room.

Nocturnes were wizards with the rare ability to see without light, sensing objects and people through auras instead of visual input.

“The rest of us will be equipped with enchanted night-vision gear, which may not be as effective against magical darkness.”

“How do you plan to capture an undead wizard? Can we even kill it?” Sarah Michelle asked, voicing what everyone was wondering.

“Energy containment nets designed for entities that exist partly outside normal physical space.” Zane held up a metallic sphere with intricate runes etched across its surface. “When deployed, they create a field that binds both the body and the essence.”

He set the net down and drew his gun. “We’ll also be using modified stunner guns. As Professor Blackwood mentioned, standard stunning spells won’t neutralize a lich, but they will slow it, giving us the opening we need to deploy the containment nets.”

A SMPD officer raised his hand. “Agent Zane, why are local officers being relegated to perimeter duty? This is our jurisdiction.”

Several other local agents nodded in agreement.

“Because none of you have the specialized training to engage a lich,” Zane replied frankly. “My team has dealt with class-five magical entities before. We train for high-risk confrontations.”

His gaze swept the room, lingering on Donatello. “Besides, you’ve seen what this creature can do. Perimeter duty isn’t a demotion—it’s a vital part of the operation. If Graves slips past us, you’ll be the last line of defense between him and the civilian population.”

The detective who’d spoken up opened his mouth to argue, but King cut in. “Agent Zane’s assessment is correct. None of us have experience with this type of entity. We’ll follow federal protocols on this one.” His tone made it clear the matter wasn’t up for debate.

As the briefing continued, with Zane detailing the specific assignments and timing of the operation, a strange mix of emotions churned in Donatello’s chest. On one hand, he was frustrated at having the case taken over by federal agents.

On the other, a shameful relief washed through him at not having to face Graves again.

The memory of that darkness swallowing them, of that inhuman voice echoing in the stairwell, made his skin crawl in a way nothing else ever had.

And he was even more glad Andromeda wouldn’t be anywhere near that thing again.

“Questions?” Zane asked, concluding his briefing.

When none came, he checked his watch. “Alright. Gear up and be ready to move out. We’re boots on the ground in fifteen minutes.”

The room erupted into motion as officers and agents dispersed to prepare.

Donatello stood, still holding Andromeda’s hand.

“I wish they’d let me come.”

“I’m glad they aren’t. It’ll be much easier knowing you’re safe.”

“But—”

“Please. I can’t focus if I’m worried about you being in danger.” After last night—after having her in his arms, warm and alive and perfect—the thought of losing her was unbearable.

Andromeda studied his face, then sighed. “Fine. But only because you said please.” She paused. “Also because death by lich sounds like a horrible way to go.”

“Thank you.”

Before Andromeda could respond, Sarah Michelle approached them, eyeing their clasped hands with undisguised interest.

“So,” she said, a smirk playing at her lips, “I leave you two alone for one night, and you’re finishing each other’s sentences and holding hands during federal briefings?”

“Shut up, Shelly,” Andromeda muttered, too flat to sting.

Sarah Michelle raised her palms in mock surrender. “Hey, no judgment. I thought I was special for dating a former murder suspect. But it must run in the department.” She playfully punched Donatello on his upper arm.

“Speaking of your boyfriend.” Andromeda changed the subject. “Isn’t Lorcan mad with worry about this?”

“He’s out of town at a conference,” Sarah Michelle replied. “And what he doesn’t know won’t give him premature gray hair.”

An officer approached them, clipboard in hand. “Detectives Malatesta and Callidora? Agent Zane wants you on the eastern perimeter.”

They both nodded.

“I have to go,” Donatello said to Andromeda.

“But you’d better come back in one piece. Both of you,” she added, her voice softening.

“Please, I eat liches for breakfast.” Callidora smirked, sheathing a modified stunner gun and a containment net before strutting out of the room.

“Be careful.” Andromeda rose on tiptoes to press a quick kiss to his cheek. “I’m not done with you yet, detective.”

He thought of her in his kitchen, in his shower, in his bed. “I’ll be back.”

As he turned to leave, following Sarah Michelle toward the equipment room, that strange warmth ignited in his chest again—not pleasant this time, something uncomfortable and unfamiliar. It took him a moment to identify it.

Fear. Not for himself, but for what he might lose if things went wrong.

For the first time in years, Detective Donatello Malatesta had something—someone—he wanted to come back to.