…..CHAPTER 10…..
Gwen held on for dear life as Jesse drove like a maniac to the scene, far too close to the Director’s tail for comfort.
Right away flaring magic pummeled her senses, the sheer amount of it spreading out from that house like invisible, violent, fog. The odd sense that there was more than one magic at work hit her hard. It was everywhere around them, suffocating in it’s sheer mass.
She supposed that made sense. Oliver was earth. If this new witch was a different element, it would make sense.
Oscar—and she was still stumbling over calling the Director by his first name—and Oliver raced into the house, Oliver ahead, eyes wild with worry and fear. Oscar, less upset but still concerned, was clearly worried about his witch, not what he’d find inside.
Awwww…
Oscar called over his shoulder for them to contain the crime scene, then Oliver, with a bare flash of his badge, ran through the door, the police officers caught off guard. Oscar arrived next, showed his badge, too, but gave them the second it took to register. Then he ordered them back away from the magic, and stepped inside behind Oliver. He stood framed by the doorway, just inside the house for several moments, and then…
Oscar shut the door behind him.
“Stay back from the tape as much as you can, Gwen,” Jesse murmured by her side, then rushed to help the police officers organize the chaos. A siren chirped, police and now FBW&R agents spoke over the crowd. There was enough noise that it was overwhelming in its volume.
Gwen helped Jesse ease the police back, helped guard the line of growing civilian gawkers. She waited, hoping they’d be alright inside that house.
Magic flashed many times, then they heard a woman’s shriek of purest rage. Gwen jumped at the sound.
“Hey, what’s happening?” a male voice asked behind her.
Gwen tore her attention from the house to glance at a him. He was a young man, a cute guy in ragged jeans and a holey t-shirt ready to fall off his body, underneath a heavy leather jacket. Shoulder-length black hair, blue eyes the color of the sky, and a cocky little grin completed the image of a wild and unruly man. “Unknown situation, sir,” she said with a comforting smile.
He leaned over the crime scene tape and beckoned to her. Cautious, she took a step closer. “Yes?”
“It’s a new witch, isn’t it?” he whispered, barely loud enough for her to hear it over the noise of the crowd.
She met his gaze, stared. He was a witch. The magic all around them moved to his will, sign of a trained witch. Her gaze went to his bare wrists where his hands were stuffed into his pockets, then back up to his eyes. That grin was adorable, and it even reached his eyes. He was laughing. Not at her, she sensed, but he was amused.
An unregistered witch… She swallowed hard and shot a look at Jesse. They had to arrest him. He was unregistered…
“Yes,” she muttered, then realized with a jolt what she’d done—admitted to a new witch inside the house. She went red as she looked back at him, flustered. “Please stay back, sir.”
“Ike.”
“Uh, Ike. Please stay back.”
“No problem. Who was that, that went inside? They looked important.”
Gwen frowned at him. “I can’t release that information.”
“No problem,” he assured her. “I’m just curious. I know the witch, but I don’t know the big guy. He seemed worried about my buddy.”
Wait, how would Oliver know an untrained witch? What on Earth? “That’s Oliver’s Handler. You’re not registered. How do you know…” Oh. Oh dear. He’d said he knew Oliver, but he didn’t name him. Did this man actually know Oliver? She somehow didn’t think so, and she winced at giving away information.
Gwen shot a guilty look toward Jesse where her Handler stood talking seriously with a police officer, wanted his help so much she almost went to him. But he was busy. And she had to deal with this. She’d made a mistake. And she had to arrest this witch. Shaking her head at her timidity, she turned back to Ike to tell him he needed to come in for schooling. To arrest him for evading registry…
He was gone. She looked around, caught a glimpse of him on the other side of the road now, walking down the sidewalk toward a street several hundred yards away. He turned to cross a yard, disappearing behind a huge shrub.
He’d gotten away. Ike was loose in the world still. She hadn’t been fast enough.
Gwen swallowed the sudden fear. She’d let an unregistered witch get away! It was her job to catch and register them, to get them into school.
Gwen took a few calming breaths. It would be okay. And shoot. I also put my foot in it again. Someday I’ll learn not to open my mouth.
Which was worse? She’d let an unregistered get away because she was too timid to face him by herself. Or maybe it was worse that she’d given away Oliver’s name to an unauthorized party…
Shoot.
Shoot, shoot, shoot.
Her mind was occupied with keeping the crowd back and with her own blunder. She almost didn’t notice when the battle inside ended. They’d been waiting a long time before the door finally opened and Oscar stepped out, face impassive but mouth set in lines she was certain were anger. Or maybe hurt. He said something to one of the officers, who darted off and returned with a blanket. Oscar turned back inside.
Then he stepped out and to the side of the door to let Oliver out of the house.
Oliver was not escorting a child. It was a full-grown woman near his own age, not a new witch after all.
Gwen smiled to herself. Tonight, the system had worked. Tonight, they’d successfully found and captured an unregistered witch. Now this woman would get the help she needed, the training, and the support of the government.
Gwen lost her smile. Because of her, they’d missed saving another witch.
Oliver got her through the door, then pulled her close, supporting the young woman. She was clearly ready to pass out from exhaustion, though her face was blank of thought, and she had a bloody split lip with a cut on one cheek. Oliver limped heavily, and blood ran down his left leg, the entire lower half of the pant’s leg dark and shiny in the flood lights.
He trailed bloody left-foot shoe prints behind him.
Oscar motioned to Jesse and the officer her Handler had been talking to, still clearly angry. “You can go in, now. There’s a body. Should be Mr. Donovan, her father. We’ll get a report to you as soon as we can, but preliminary looks like he was attacking her and she defended herself. Randall, get someone on those neighbors’ statements asap.”
When Oscar ordered Oliver into the back of their car, she wasn’t the only one floored. Oliver didn’t argue, just got in, eyes tight with pain and stress. Oscar went to his own car then, waving to Jesse to head for Headquarters.
“Is Oliver in trouble?” Gwen whispered, stepping a hair closer to Jesse, who had reached into his pocket for the keys.
Melinda looked up at Assistant Director Randall, her Handler. “Yeah. I think he is. Randall? Do you know what he did? I’ve never seen this before. I don’t think Oscar’s ever been pissed off at Oliver before.”
Randall shook his head, looking frankly stunned. Gwen looked to her own Handler. Jesse shook his head, eyes tight. “No idea. But maybe he just wants Oliver to ride with her to keep her under control?”
That might be part of it, but she’d bet money she didn’t have that that wasn’t the full reason.
Back at the office, once the woman was situated on the hospital floor, Oscar’s anger hadn’t changed much, and he stiffly ordered Oliver to follow him.
“Damn,” Randall whispered, watching with worry as the two men got on the elevator. Randall glanced at his witch. “Thoughts?”
Melinda shook her head in wonder. “Oliver did something. And it shocked Oscar. Maybe scared him.”
Randall’s brows drew together. “My thoughts exactly. Come on. I want to keep an eye on them. Something’s up.”
Jesse followed them, and Gwen followed him. The four of them went down to the first floor and saw the two men through the glass front doors of the Bureau as they arrived by Oscar’s car. Oliver sat on the curb, his shoulders hunched, arms between his legs and torso, face down, but not so far they could possibly miss the misery on his face.
“Fuck,” Jesse whispered as they stepped outside the doors.
“Yeah. Oliver fucked up somehow,” Melinda murmured. “I’ve never seen this. What the hell did he do? Oliver might push the line a lot, but otherwise he’s been a model witch the entire time he’s been here. What happened?”
The three talked softly, making a few comments, but otherwise discussing the collection of the new witch. They all waited, watching, and Gwen felt like she was intruding, even if they were all the way across that nighttime-empty parking lot. At last the two stood, and then Oscar was almost dragging Oliver toward them, his face more chagrined than anyone Gwen had ever seen.
“Randall, Jesse, get over here!” Oscar called. “Oliver’s got something wedge in his wound.”
“The fuck?” Jesse muttered and leaped toward them, Randall at his side. Gwen opened the door and held it as they brought Oliver into the building once more, and onto the elevator, the three of them practically carrying him.
Gwen could tell Oliver was in shock, his body low in blood. Too low. Something about his eyes, and his water balance had altered, too. She didn’t think he’d cried, but she suspected it had been a near thing. Tears always did that, a form of transformation, of which she was so aware.
Gwen shook her head at the conflicting signs. Distress. Anger. Fear. “He’s upset. Why?”
She almost fainted at her own temerity when the Director turned his brown gaze on her. He smiled tightly, but it was loaded with aching sadness. “Oliver’s situation was a lot like what that girl went through, so he’s a very good candidate for understanding her. Tonight, he had to pull some tricks out of his sleeve to deal with her, tricks I didn’t know he knew about. And that’s all I’m going to say on the matter.”
Then Oscar disappeared behind a curtain with the doctor. When she looked up at her Handler, Jesse’s confused expression gave her nothing, and she had nothing to go on either.
But Randall and Melinda exchanged a look of understanding. They must know what happened tonight inside that house. Randall and Melinda were handling the night shift this week, so they left to check on the progress of the scene they’d left. Nurses and techs with mobile x-ray, doctors, all serious and scurrying, flew in and out of Oliver’s curtained alcove.
Twenty minutes later, the lead doctor swept back out to speak with nurses, only to hurry back in. After a moment, Oscar came from the curtained off area with an expression of guilt and worry. Randall and Melinda returned just as he came out. Gwen was shocked to hear Oliver needed surgery to remove the foreign object from the wound.
The Director gave them some orders, then she and Jesse were assigned to watch over Oliver. Melinda strode off to the indicated location of the new witch…Phoebe? She and Jesse took up position outside the curtain while Randall headed out to put together some teams to watch over their injured.
Gwen looked up at her Handler. This whole night was a nightmare. Between that stranger getting information from her to Oliver injured and needing surgery, to the hint that Oliver—nice, law-abiding, fellow rule-follower Oliver—had done something wrong to receive reprimand from his Handler… Her mind was boggling from it all, plus she was tired as hel…heck.
When Oliver was wheeled from the curtained area, she glanced at Jesse, wondering if they were supposed to leave or follow.
Jesse didn’t follow. But his gaze did.
Gwen shivered a little at the conflicted look on Jesse’s face. Dark worry, a hint of anger…and frustration. Followed by a hint of guilt.
At least she thought so. She was learning Jesse’s moods, but she wasn’t sure.
Moments later, a team arrived to watch over Oliver. Jesse directed them to get Oliver’s location in the operating room from the nurses.
They were relieved at last, and Gwen was ready to curl up on the floor. Look, a blanket on that empty bed. Perfect.
But Jesse led her toward the elevator. When the door closed, quiet descended as they rose to the floor of the House. Gwen stared at the tile flooring, lost in thought.
“Who was that man that you were talking to at the scene?”
She startled at Jesse’s question, his voice breaking the silence so abruptly it almost hurt. Gwen looked up at him, puzzled at the tone of his voice. “He was asking questions about what was happening. I had to tell him it was an ongoing scene. He was just curious.”
Jesse sent her a long look. “That’s not what I asked.”
Gwen stared back, searching her memory. “Oh. Um. Who, you asked?”
Jesse gave a sharp nod.
“No one. I’ve never seen him before.” And then she remembered he’d told her his name. Or, more likely, a name that wasn’t necessarily his. “His name was Ike? It was hard to hear with the crowd there.”
“I doubt that’s his actual name,” Jesse muttered. He shot her a hard look. “Be more careful. You’re too trusting.”
Gwen ducked her head. “Yes, sir.”
“Hey, I’m not mad. Use my name.”
“Yes, Jesse,” she whispered.
She got off the elevator and he escorted her to her apartment. Gwen was surprised when he took her elbow and swung her around before she could enter her home. She blinked up at him.
Jesse was frowning. “I’m serious, Gwen. More than one witch has been harmed by apparently curious bystanders who saw the cuff and attacked. Don’t trust anyone.”
Gwen’s heart sank. Trust no one? What a bleak way to look at things. “But…I don’t want to live that way!” she protested.
His gaze softened. “I mean strangers, Gwen. You can trust most of us here at the FBW&R.”
She relaxed. His hand slid down her arm, and she shivered, scurried into her apartment and closed the door.
It wasn’t until she leaned back against it that she realized what he’d said, and cold slipped down her spine.
Most of us…