Tarot Academy 4 - Sarah Piper Page 0,37

The students that were attacked on campus and stripped of their powers.

Rage roils inside me, and I close my eyes and take a deep breath, ignoring the rotten stench, forcing myself to calm down. I can’t risk getting upset in here. According to Cass’s text, Professor Maddox believes there’s a chance we can save the students’ magick. One ill-timed Hulk-out from me could shatter the jars, destroying the essences and permanently cutting the students off from their most precious gifts.

Faint murmuring at the far end of the room catches our attention, and Baz and I scoot along the wall, trying to pinpoint exactly where it’s coming from. I’ve just spotted the inner chamber—the one where Stevie and Carly discovered Phaines in the hospital bed—when Casey and Quintana step out of it, their voices growing louder.

Baz and I scurry back into the shadows, crouching down behind a shelf to watch the scene unfold.

“She finished it, just like she said she would.” Casey peels off a pair of latex gloves and drops them into an evidence bag Quintana holds open for her. “He’s dead.”

“And you’re sure it’s not a spell?” he asks, sealing the bag and labeling it with a Sharpie. He kneels down to where his duffel bag sits on the dirt floor and tucks the evidence bag inside.

“All the magickal signatures are gone. He’s definitely dead, James.” Casey leans against the wall and closes her eyes, her shoulders slumping. I don’t need Stevie’s empathic abilities to know what she must be feeling—my sister and I have a lot of the same wiring. Exhaustion—that much is obvious. Anger and disgust over what Phaines did to her. Determination to do her job and do it well, despite her boss’s apparent treachery. Conflict, confusion, uncertainty—all of it likely churning in an endless spin-cycle in her head.

As eager as she might’ve been to take the Academy assignment, there’s no way Casey was prepared for this. None of us were.

“You trust her?” Quintana asks, and Casey nods. I can only assume they’re talking about Trello.

He gets to his feet. “Then I guess we need to call it in and start bagging him up. Make it official.”

“James.” Casey opens her eyes and meets his gaze, taking a step closer. “Last chance. Are you sure you’re on board with this? What I’m asking of you—”

“Is no less than I’d ask of you, Agent—to have your partner’s back. The fact that you keep asking me… Hell, Case. At this point, it’s damn near insulting.”

“Fair enough.” Casey’s tone is all business, but her smile shines with relief.

I have to admit, my respect for Quintana just leveled up a notch too.

“Official story?” he asks.

“Anonymous tip. Reports of a disturbance in the library after hours.” She glances at her phone. “We cleared out the last of the students about fifteen minutes ago, so let’s wait another fifteen before we call it in. I don’t want the times overlapping—we can’t risk any of them contradicting the story.”

“Good call. Gives us more time to do another sweep down here. Far as I can tell, Trello didn’t leave a trace, but we should take another look to be sure.”

“Let’s pack up the essence and the personal effects first. I don’t want any of that mishandled or lost—not if there’s a chance we can still heal those students.”

“You believe it?”

“Trello seems to think so.”

“Again, I have to ask—”

“Yes, I trust her, James. I may not agree with all her methods, and I was slow to warm up at first. But after this, I believe—and I’m talking gut-level here—she’s got the students’ best interests at heart. She cares about them. Cares about her faculty too.”

“And your brother—”

“Is not on the list of approved conversational topics.”

I try not to take it personally. It’s not like I’ve been super eager to talk about her either.

“Should we take any photos before we box up the essence?”

“No time. We need to get this stuff back to your house in Red Sands—I’m thinking that’s the safest place right now. Once Trello makes contact again, we’ll figure out our next steps.”

“I’m on packing duty,” Agent Quintana says, heading for a bookcase stacked with file boxes. He grabs one off the top and dumps out the paperwork, then carries the empty box to the shelves holding the essence. “You deal with the stiff.”

Casey laughs. “You really need to work on your dead body issues.”

“Hey now. We made a deal in training, remember? I carry the heavy shit. You handle the stiffs.”

“For fuck’s sake,”