Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Nineteen

The Supreme Court - DI Marchant

I watched Raven's sharp intake of breath with growing unease. Whatever becoming a signatory to these Accords meant, her reaction wasn't exactly filling me with confidence. When our eyes met, she gave me a small nod that I suppose was meant to be reassuring. It wasn't.

"And what exactly would becoming a signatory entail?" I asked, proud that my voice remained steady despite the churning in my stomach.

The Seneschal leaned back in his leather chair, regarding me with a cold, calculating gaze. "The Accords are a magically binding contract, Detective. By signing, you acknowledge our existence and accept the responsibility of keeping our world hidden from the general population. While it won't physically prevent you from revealing our secrets­­--as Ms Chen has so aptly demonstrated--it does bind you to accepting the consequences should you choose to do so."

"And these consequences?" I forced myself to meet his gaze.

"Let's just say they're severe enough that in our long history, very few have been foolish enough to deliberately test them." His voice carried enough weight to make even MacTire shift uncomfortably beside me, which I found far from comforting.

"So I'm to be bound by your rules without any say in the matter?" I couldn't keep the edge from my voice. "What choice do I actually have here?"

"You always have a choice, Detective," he replied smoothly. "We could attempt another memory wipe, though as DI MacTire mentioned, the risk of permanent damage would be... significant." He paused, letting that sink in. "Or you can join us officially, maintain your memories, and continue your work with the MCD, with full knowledge of what you're actually dealing with. Those are your options."

Bloody brilliant. Risk permanent brain damage or sign my life away to a magical contract. Some choice. I weighed my options, such as they were, before finally grinding out, "Fine. I'll sign your damn Accords."

The Seneschal's lips curved into what might have been a smile. "A wise choice." He gestured to one of the guards by the door, who stepped forward carrying what looked like an ancient leather-bound tome.

Before the book could be opened, MacTire cleared his throat. "Sir, speaking of consequences, we need to discuss this." He pulled an evidence bag from his coat and placed it carefully on the desk. Even from where I stood, I recognised the Court's seal on the envelope we'd collected earlier.

"We found this on our latest victim," MacTire continued, his usual swagger notably absent. "It appears to be a genuine Court Warrant, but the victim was a mundane..."

I watched the Seneschal carefully. His expression barely changed, but something flickered in his eyes­--concern, perhaps even fear. "A genuine warrant?" He reached for the bag. "That's... troubling."

"If the warrant's authentic," Raven explained quietly from beside me, "it means it had to have come from the Court, but there's no reason one would be issued against a mundane..."

"Yeah, someone's going to a lot of trouble to point us in the Court's direction," MacTire added quietly.

"Indeed." The Seneschal spoke over us, his voice hard. His eyes snapped to MacTire. "We'll discuss this further in a moment. But first..." He reached into his desk drawer and withdrew a pair of rings, I felt Raven tense beside me.

"I may have been..." he paused, as if the words were physically painful, "somewhat hasty in blaming you for the incident at the police station." He slid the rings across the desk towards her. "Given your history, you can hardly blame me, but perhaps I was... overzealous."

I watched Raven's face carefully, but she kept her expression neutral even as her fingers twitched towards the rings.

"Don't get too excited," he continued, pulling the rings back slightly. "You're not back on the case, and I don't see you rejoining in the future. But your house arrest is cancelled. You did," his gaze shifted between us, "after all, fail to inform me of the latent's presence, and it seems I'm not the only one guilty of making assumptions."

He separated the rings, pushing one forward while keeping the other. "You'll get this one back when you've proved you can behave yourself."

He fixed me with a meaningful look. "Perhaps you could take Detective Marchant for coffee and finish the conversation you started earlier? After she's signed the Accords, of course."

The guard stepped forward again with the tome, and I found myself staring at an honest-to-God quill. Because apparently signing away your life to a magical contract requires proper medieval accessories.

The weight of what I was about to do hit me like a physical blow as I reached for the quill. This wasn't just some bureaucratic formality; I was choosing to step through a door I could never walk back through. Everything I thought I knew about the world was about to become official fiction--A comforting lie I'd have to maintain for everyone I cared about.

The quill felt impossibly heavy in my trembling hand. Raven must have sensed my hesitation because she shifted closer, not quite touching but present enough to ground me. When I glanced up, I caught MacTire's eye. He gave me a slight nod - understanding, maybe even respect in his gaze. They'd both made this choice too, hadn't they? Or had they ever had a choice at all?

I dipped the quill in ink, watching the dark liquid cling to the nib. In for a penny, in for a pound. With a deep breath, I signed my name, the scratching of quill on parchment unnaturally loud in the quiet room. For a moment, I could have sworn the ink gleamed with an inner light, but it was gone before I could be sure.

As I straightened, I felt... different. Not physically - there was no magical surge or mystical bond I could sense. But knowledge sat heavy in my chest: I was now officially part of this hidden world, bound by laws I barely understood to keep secrets I was only beginning to grasp. I couldn't help wondering when the other shoe would drop.

Given everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours, it probably wouldn't be long.

***

We walked in silence for a while, my eyes bouncing from face to face, detail to detail, my brain struggling to process everything I'd learnt today. To say I was on edge after signing that damned contract would have been the understatement of the century, but what other option did I really have?

I was starting to question my sanity as we passed the crowded corridors-- Every face, every shadowed doorway could be concealing something supernatural, and I couldn't help but wonder about it all. Was that person human, or something else entirely? Was that a faint shimmer around her edges, or was my overwrought mind playing tricks on me?

"So," Raven eventually broke the silence, "you must have questions?"

Questions? I had so many bloody questions that I just didn't know where to begin.

"Hews," I said quietly, surprised by my own voice, "you called him a latent earlier. I need to know--is he in danger or," I swallowed hard, "is he dangerous?"

Raven's laugh caught me off guard. "Hews? Dangerous? Gods no. Being latent just means he has the potential for magic, but it's dormant. Most latents go their whole lives without doing anything magical. Think of it like..." She paused, considering. "Like being born with perfect pitch but never singing a song, or playing an instrument. The capacity is there, but it just sits there doing nothing."

I absorbed this, feeling a little of the tension ease from my shoulders. At least I wouldn't have to worry about him suddenly sprouting fur or breathing fire the next time I saw him. Though I probably couldn't rule that out for my new colleagues.

"Right then," I said, following her down yet another corridor. "So what exactly happened back at the station?"

Raven's answering smile held a hint of sympathy. "Well, he traced an activated glyph or, to continue the analogy, he played an instrument...

***

Unfortunately, the Court's cafeteria looked and smelt like any other government building's dining area, albeit with slightly better furniture. I wrapped my hands around a steaming cup of coffee, trying to ground myself in its familiar warmth while Raven settled across from me.

"You're taking this better than I thought you would," she observed, stirring honey into her tea.

"Am I?" I barked out a laugh. "Because I feel like I'm losing my mind."

"And yet you're sitting here, having a rational conversation, instead of running screaming for the hills." She paused. "Entertaining though that might have been."

I shot her a withering look. "So sorry to disappoint."

"About earlier..." she started, then hesitated. "I really am sorry. I assumed you'd been briefed, I wouldn't have dumped things on you like that..."

"About magic being real?" I scoffed, the words still feeling ridiculous coming out of my mouth despite everything I'd seen since stepping into the building, "And MacTire being a werewolf? Funnily enough, that detail was somehow skipped over during introductions."

I was about to probe for more information on all things werewolf when a thought struck me. "How many of my past cases involved supernatural elements that got covered up?"

"I'm not really--" She broke off, eyes focusing over my shoulder.

"Ladies." MacTire's voice carried a hint of amusement. "Getting along, I see? And probably more than you'd like to know."

"Why Mr. Wolf," I said turning to face him, recalling Raven's comment about his hearing, "what big ears you have! Try me."

He sighed, pulling up a chair to join us. "Remember the Battersea arson case last spring? The one where the fire investigator couldn't explain how the fires were getting started?"

"That was--" I stopped, pieces clicking into place. "Magic?"

"Elemental witch having a temper tantrum." He nodded. "The MCD handled him while the SCC worked the mundane angle, let's just say he won't be setting any more fires for a good long while."

I took a long drink of coffee, processing that - it was little wonder that the Specialist Crime Command got nowhere if the arsonist was using magic as his--his? OK, I guessed witch was a gender neutral term--accelerant. "And now the 'Coven Killer'?" The question came out before I'd even thought about who I was sitting with.

He shot a sympathetic glance at Raven before speaking. "Unidentified, as yet, but the alchemical symbols--they're the genuine article, so someone with real power is definitely involved..."

Raven's face tightened. "Yes. Which rules this null out. No magic, I couldn't have created those symbols if I tried." Her voice cracked slightly. "And now Lily... I want, no need to help find whoever's responsible."

MacTire reached across the table, giving Raven's hand a quick squeeze. "I know, lass. And you will. But for now, the Seneschal's orders are clear - you're off the case."

He turned to me, expression turning serious. "Marchant, we need to talk, and it can't wait until we're back at the office."

Raven looked like she wanted to protest but, after a moment of silent communication with MacTire, she nodded reluctantly. Her chair scraping loudly across the floor as she stood. "I guess that's my cue. Welcome to our world, Detective Marchant. I think you'll find it's not quite as terrifying as you're imagining. Well, most of the time, anyway."

Somehow, that wasn't as reassuring as she probably meant it to be.