Chapter 14: The Undercover Fuck
The bioluminescent vines overhead pulsed with a slow, deliberate rhythm—in, out, in, out—like the breath of something vast and patient sleeping just beneath the surface of the world. Jenny O'Connor pressed her back against the wall outside the side room and tried very hard not to think about what was happening on the other side of the door.
She failed.
Amanda's moans came through the thin walls like water through a sieve—breathy, broken, rising and falling in a rhythm that Jenny recognized from the times she'd heard her sister through the walls of their shared house in Chicago. The wet slap of skin against skin. The creak of the futon frame. Cody's low grunts, guttural and desperate, the sound of a man who was trying very hard to last and losing the battle.
The smell hit her next.
Sex had a scent. Everyone knew that. But Jenny's magic—undefined, unpredictable, but always sharp—had given her a nose for it that she'd never asked for. Musk and salt and something sweeter underneath. The particular fragrance of Amanda's arousal, which Jenny knew intimately from the times they'd shared a bed during thunderstorms, when neither of them could sleep and the comfort of another body was the only thing that helped.
Her hand drifted between her legs.
She caught herself. Forced her fingers back to her sides. Bit the inside of her cheek until she tasted copper.
"Stay alert," she muttered. "Stay fucking alert."
The meditation center was supposed to be empty. That was the point of coming here—privacy, security, the kind of magical shielding that Kim had spent weeks weaving into the walls. But the Consortium had people everywhere. Had eyes everywhere. And Jenny had promised to keep watch while Amanda and Cody said their goodbyes.
Except they weren't saying goodbye. They were saying something else entirely, with their bodies and their breath and the rhythmic creak of that goddamn futon.
Jenny closed her eyes.
She didn't want to be here. She wanted to be back in Chicago, back in the house where she'd grown up, back in the room she shared with Amanda when they were kids. She wanted to be anywhere but here, listening to her sister get fucked by a boy who was about to walk into the lion's den.
But she was here. Because Amanda needed her. Because Kim needed her. Because the world was ending in slow motion and someone had to stand guard while the people she loved made terrible decisions.
The moans intensified.
"Oh, fuck," Amanda gasped. "Oh, fuck, Cody, right there, don't stop, don't you dare stop—"
"I'm not—" Cody's voice was strained. "I'm not stopping. I couldn't stop if I wanted to. You feel so—fuck—"
The slap of skin got faster. Harder. Jenny could picture it perfectly: Amanda on her back, legs wrapped around Cody's waist, her blonde hair spread across the pillow like a halo. Cody above her, muscles straining, sweat dripping onto her chest. The two of them moving together in that perfect, primal rhythm that Jenny had never quite managed to find with anyone.
Her hand drifted again.
She caught it again.
"Goddammit," she whispered.
The candles in the main room flickered. The vines overhead pulsed faster—not in rhythm with breath anymore, but in rhythm with something else. Something that was building toward a climax that Jenny could feel in her bones.
Amanda screamed.
It was a good scream. The kind of scream that meant everything was working exactly the way it was supposed to. The kind of scream that made Jenny's thighs clench and her nipples harden and her cunt ache with a sympathy that was entirely inappropriate.
Cody groaned.
The futon creaked one final time.
Then silence.
Jenny let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. Her heart was pounding. Her face was flushed. Her underwear was definitely wet, and she was definitely not going to think about that.
The front door of the meditation center opened.
Jenny spun, hands raised, magic crackling at her fingertips—
Kim Powers stepped inside, her curved sword strapped to her back, her hazel eyes scanning the room with the practiced efficiency of someone who'd been trained to expect danger around every corner.
Maryam followed a step behind her, backwards baseball cap pulled low over her short dark hair, a Louisville Slugger slung over her shoulder in a custom sheet that glowed faintly with Green Moon enchantment.
"Jenny," Kim said. "Status?"
"Amanda and Cody are in the side room."
"Doing what?"
Jenny's face heated. "What do you think?"
Kim's expression didn't change. "How long?"
"Twenty minutes. Maybe thirty."
"They should be done by now."
"They're saying goodbye. It's taking a while."
Maryam snorted. "Saying goodbye. Is that what the kids are calling it these days?"
"Maryam," Kim said.
"What? I'm just saying. If they wanted privacy, they could've gone to Amanda's place. Or a hotel. Or literally anywhere else."
"They wanted to be somewhere safe." Jenny crossed her arms. "Somewhere warded. Somewhere the Consortium can't see."
"And the fact that the futon in the side room is really comfortable had nothing to do with it."
"Maryam."
"I'm just saying—"
"Enough." Kim's voice was sharp. "We have a plan to discuss. Jenny, can you get them?"
Jenny hesitated.
"Now," Kim added.
Jenny turned to the side room door. Raised her hand. Knocked twice, sharp and quick.
"Amanda. Cody. We have company."
A muffled curse from inside. The sound of movement—sheets rustling, feet hitting the floor, whispered words that Jenny couldn't quite make out.
The door opened.
Cody Murphy stood in the doorway, shirtless, sweaty, his chest heaving with the aftermath of exertion. His dark hair was plastered to his forehead. His jeans were unbuttoned, and there was a smear of something slick and shiny on his fingers that Jenny very deliberately did not look at.
"Yeah?" he said.
Kim's eyebrows rose.
"Get dressed," she said. "We need to talk."
---
Cody emerged five minutes later, fully clothed but still flushed, still smelling like sex, still looking like a man who'd just had the best orgasm of his life and wasn't quite sure how to process it.
Amanda followed a step behind him, her blonde hair tangled, her lips swollen, her sundress wrinkled in ways that suggested it had been on the floor recently. She was smiling—that soft, satisfied smile that Jenny had seen a hundred times before.
"Hey, Kim," she said. "Hey, Maryam."
"Amanda." Kim's voice was neutral. "Did you two have a nice time?"
"We were saying goodbye."
"That's what I heard."
"It might have gotten a little... heated."
"Uh-huh."
Amanda's smile widened. "You're not mad, are you?"
Kim sighed. "I'm not mad. I'm just... timing-conscious. Cody, how much do you know about your parents' organization?"
Cody blinked. "The Consortium?"
"No. Consortium 2.0. The new one. The one that's been making moves in Miami."
Cody's jaw tightened. His fingers, still sticky with Amanda's slick, curled into fists at his sides.
"I know enough," he said. "They've been recruiting. Smaller cells. No central leadership. They're using my father's name like a rallying cry."
"Your father's name." Kim stepped closer. The bioluminescent vines overhead pulsed faster, responding to her presence. "That's exactly what we need."
Cody's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"
"I mean you're going to walk into Consortium 2.0 and tell them you want to honor your father's legacy."
The silence that followed was thick enough to cut.
Amanda's hand found Cody's arm. Her fingers pressed into his skin, grounding him, reminding him she was there.
"You want me to infiltrate," Cody said.
"I want you to infiltrate."
"You want me to lie to the people who put my father in a coma."
"Your father put himself in a coma. He was giving a speech about how much he hated the Green Moon when the despair bomb went off." Kim's voice was flat. "He made his choices. You made yours. Now we need to use the one advantage we have."
"And that's my name."
"That's your name."
Cody was quiet for a long moment. His chest rose and fell. His eyes flicked to Amanda, then to Jenny, then back to Kim.
"If I do this," he said, "I'm dead. You understand that, right? If they find out I'm lying—"
"They won't find out."
"You can't promise that."
"I can promise that you'll have backup." Kim gestured to Amanda and Maryam. "They're coming with you."
Amanda blinked. "We are?"
"You are." Kim turned to her sister. "Maryam, you're going to be the jealous sister."
Maryam's eyebrows shot up. "The what?"
"My jealous sister. The one who resents me with the Green Moon by my side. The one who's tired of living in my shadow." Kim's lips curved into something that wasn't quite a smile. "You'll claim your twin sister is bossy and arrogant. Just like all Green Moon witches."
Maryam snorted. "That's not a stretch."
"Excuse me?"
"I'm just saying. You are bossy. And arrogant. And a Green Moon witch."
"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that."
"Pretend all you want. It's still true."
Kim ignored her. Turned back to Amanda. "You'll claim your parents are dominated by Brigid. The magical third in their triad. She forces their attention onto Jenny, your magical half-sister, while you're left out in the cold."
Amanda's face went pale. "That's not—"
"I know it's not true. But it's believable. Brigid is powerful. Jenny is magical. You're not." Kim's voice softened, just slightly. "The Consortium will eat it up."
"You want me to pretend my parents don't love me."
"I want you to pretend your parents are distracted. There's a difference."
Amanda looked at Jenny. Jenny looked back, her green eyes bright with something that might have been guilt.
"It's fine," Jenny said. "I can be the evil half-sister. I've been practicing my villain laugh."
"That's not funny."
"It's a little funny."
"It's really not."
Kim stepped between them. "Focus. We need to plan the details. Cody, you'll approach the Consortium's Miami cell. You'll tell them you've had a change of heart. You'll say your father's collapse opened your eyes to the threat of magic, and you want to help finish what he started."
Cody's mouth twisted. "They'll want proof."
"They'll want commitment. They'll want you to do something that proves you're on their side."
"Like what?"
"Like giving them information about the Green Moon." Kim's eyes were hard. "Information we'll feed you. Information that's true enough to be convincing but useless enough to keep them from actually hurting anyone."
"You want me to be a double agent."
"I want you to be a hero."
"I'm not a hero."
"You're dating a girl whose family took you in when your own parents disowned you. You're living in a house with three adults who love you more than your biological family ever did. You're here, right now, listening to a plan that could get you killed." Kim tilted her head. "Sounds like a hero to me."
Cody was quiet.
Amanda's arms wrapped around him from behind. Her cheek pressed against his back, her breath warm against his skin.
"I'll keep you safe," she whispered. "I promise. I'll keep you safe."
Maryam rolled her eyes. But she was smiling.
"Alright," Cody said. "I'll do it."
Kim nodded. "Good. Now we need to talk logistics."
---
They sat in a circle on the floor of the main meditation room. The bioluminescent vines cast soft green light across their faces. The candles flickered in a draft that came from nowhere and everywhere at once.
"Jenny," Kim said. "You'll be our outside contact. You'll stay here, monitor the situation, and relay messages between us and Mandy's people."
Jenny nodded. "I can do that."
"You'll need to be careful. The Consortium has people who can track magical signatures. If you use too much power, they'll find you."
"I know how to be careful."
"Do you?"
Jenny's eyes flashed. "I've been hiding my magic my whole life, Kim. I think I can handle a few weeks of playing it safe."
Kim held her gaze for a moment. Then nodded.
"Fine. Amanda, you'll approach the Consortium with Cody. You'll play the role of the lovestruck girlfriend who's willing to betray her family for him. Maryam, you'll be the resentful sister who's only there because she has nowhere else to go."
"And if they ask why I'm not with the Green Moon?" Maryam asked.
"You're not magical. You're not an initiate. You're just a girl who's tired of living in her sister's shadow." Kim's lips twitched. "Just don't overdo it."
"I never overdo anything."
"You overdo everything."
"That's rich coming from you."
"Can we focus?" Amanda's voice cut through the bickering. "We're planning a mission that could get Cody killed. Can we please focus?"
Everyone went quiet.
Kim took a breath. "You're right. I'm sorry."
"Thank you."
"The plan is simple. Cody makes contact. We establish cover. We gather information. We get out." Kim looked at each of them in turn. "We do not engage. We do not reveal ourselves. We do not do anything that could compromise the mission."
"And if things go wrong?" Cody asked.
"Then we have backup." Kim gestured vaguely. "Mandy's people. My mother. The Order of the Golden Wands. We have more allies than the Consortium knows."
"The Consortium has prisons. They have monsters. They have the Shine."
"The Shine is in a prison vault. We're not going there."
"We might not have a choice."
Kim was quiet.
"She's right," Jenny said. "If things go sideways, we might have to release the Shine. It's the only way to—"
"The Shine is a last resort." Kim's voice was sharp. "We don't let it loose unless there's no other option."
"And if there's no other option?"
"Then we use it. But we don't plan for it. We don't rely on it. We find another way."
Cody nodded slowly. "Okay. I can work with that."
"Good." Kim stood. "Now. The ritual."
Amanda looked up. "The ritual?"
"To seal the pact." Kim's eyes were serious. "We need to bind our intentions. Make sure we're all committed. Make sure we're all protected."
"Green Moon ritual?"
"Green Moon ritual."
Amanda's lips curved. "I've never done one before."
"Then it's time you learned."
---
They stripped down in silence.
The candles flickered. The vines pulsed. The air grew thick with the scent of incense and something else—something electric, something alive.
Kim stood at the center of the circle. Her body was lean and strong, muscles defined by years of training. Her dark hair fell past her shoulders. Her hazel eyes glowed with the light of the Green Moon.
Maryam stood to her left. Her body was identical to Kim's—same curves, same lines, same strength—but her posture was different. Looser. More relaxed. She caught Jenny's eye and winked.
Amanda stood to Kim's right. Her blonde hair cascaded down her back. Her skin was flushed from earlier, still pink in places where Cody's hands had gripped too hard. She looked at Cody with an expression that was equal parts love and fear.
Cody stood across from Kim. His body was lean but not muscular—a scholar's body, not a fighter's. His hands trembled slightly at his sides. But his eyes were steady.
Jenny stood beside him. Her red hair caught the candlelight. Her green eyes were bright. She was the only one who wasn't nervous, the only one who seemed completely at ease.
"Join hands," Kim said.
They did.
Kim's fingers laced with Maryam's. Maryam's fingers laced with Amanda's. Amanda's fingers laced with Cody's. Cody's fingers laced with Jenny's. Jenny's fingers laced with Kim's.
The circle was complete.
"Close your eyes," Kim said. "Feel the power flowing between us. Feel the connection. Feel the intention."
Jenny felt it. The warmth of Cody's hand in hers. The pulse of magic that ran through the circle like a heartbeat. The Green Moon energy that saturated the air, thick and sweet and alive.
"We are bound," Kim said. "Bound by purpose. Bound by trust. Bound by the light of the Moon."
"We are bound," the others echoed.
"Cody Murphy. You will walk into darkness. You will face the enemy. You will risk everything."
"I will."
"Amanda MacInteyre. You will stand beside him. You will protect him. You will love him."
"I will."
"Maryam Powers. You will guard them both. You will fight when they cannot. You will be their shield."
"I will."
"Jenny O'Connor. You will watch from afar. You will guide them. You will bring them home."
"I will."
Kim's voice rose. The vines overhead pulsed faster. The candles flared.
"We bind our intentions. We bind our fates. We bind our hearts." Kim's eyes opened, glowing bright. "By the light of the Green Moon, we are one."
The magic surged.
Jenny felt it crash over her like a wave—warm and heavy and impossibly sweet. The candles flared brighter. The vines pulsed in rhythm with her heartbeat. The circle of hands tightened, pulled, drew them closer together.
Their bodies pressed against each other. Skin against skin. Heat against heat.
Cody's chest against her back. Amanda's breasts against her side. Maryam's hip against her thigh. Kim's power surging through her like electricity.
The chant continued. Kim's voice was a beacon. The energy built and built and built, spiraling upward like smoke, like prayer, like something that had no name.
Jenny's head fell back. Her eyes closed. Her body arched into the warmth, into the connection, into the light.
She felt Cody's breath on her neck. Felt Amanda's fingers dig into her waist. Felt Maryam's lips brush her shoulder.
The magic peaked.
And then, slowly, gently, it settled.
The candles dimmed. The vines slowed. The circle of hands loosened but did not break.
Jenny opened her eyes.
Kim was looking at her. Watching her. Seeing her.
"We are bound," Kim whispered one more time.
"We are bound," Jenny echoed.
And somewhere in the distance, in the dark heart of Miami, the Consortium 2.0 was waiting.
Someone in the dark heart of Miami was waiting.
Cody Murphy woke to the smell of salt and sex and the particular brand of Miami morning that felt like a wet blanket pressed against his face. The ceiling above him was unfamiliar—white, textured, with a hairline crack running from corner to corner. The bed beneath him was too soft, too warm, too full of limbs that didn't belong to him.
Amanda was on his left. Her blonde hair fanned across the pillow. Her mouth was open. A thin line of drool traced the corner of her lips.
Jenny was on his right.
That was new.
She was curled on her side, facing away from him, her red hair spilling across the sheets like a fire that had decided to take a nap. The blanket had slipped down to her waist. Her back was bare. Her skin was pale and freckled and completely, utterly naked.
Cody's brain tried to process this.
It failed.
He remembered the ritual. Remembered the circle. Remembered the heat of their bodies pressed together and the chant and the light and the way Jenny's fingers had dug into his hip like she was trying to anchor herself to something real.
He remembered what came after.
Amanda had kissed him first. Then Jenny. Then Amanda again. Then someone's hand—he wasn't sure whose—had found his cock, and someone else's mouth had found his neck, and everything had blurred into a tangle of limbs and breath and the wet sounds of fucking.
He'd come twice. Maybe three times. He'd lost count somewhere around the point where Jenny had climbed on top of him and ridden him while Amanda whispered filthy things in his ear.
His cock twitched at the memory.
"Stop that," Amanda murmured.
Her eyes were still closed. Her voice was thick with sleep.
"Stop what?"
"Thinking about it. I can hear you thinking about it."
"You can't hear me thinking."
"I can hear you thinking about fucking Jenny again."
"That's not—"
"It's okay. I was thinking about it too."
Cody's face heated. "You were?"
"Mmhm." Amanda rolled onto her back. Stretched. Her breasts pressed against the sheet, nipples hardening in the cool morning air. "She's got a really nice mouth. Did you notice?"
"I noticed."
"And her hands. She knows what she's doing with her hands."
"I noticed that too."
"And her—"
"Amanda."
"What?"
"Jenny's right there."
"So?"
"So maybe we shouldn't be talking about her like she's not here."
Amanda opened one eye. Looked past him at Jenny's sleeping form. Grinned.
"She's not here. She's unconscious. I could say anything I wanted and she wouldn't hear a word."
"I can hear you," Jenny said.
Her voice was muffled by the pillow. But it was definitely her voice.
Amanda's grin widened. "Good morning, sunshine."
"Fuck off."
"That's not very nice."
"I'm not very nice in the morning."
"You were nice last night."
Jenny rolled over. Her green eyes were bleary. Her face was flushed. Her hair was a disaster.
"That was different," she said.
"How?"
"That was... ritual. That was magic. That was—" She gestured vaguely. "Whatever that was."
"And this is what? Reality?"
"This is awkward. This is weird. This is—"
"This is breakfast?" Amanda sat up. The sheet pooled around her waist. She made no move to cover herself. "I'm hungry. Anyone else hungry?"
Cody's stomach growled.
Jenny stared at him.
"Was that you?" she asked.
"Unfortunately."
"Jesus Christ."
"I can't help it. I haven't eaten since yesterday."
"You were too busy fucking my sister."
"And you."
Jenny's face went red.
"I was not—"
"You were. You absolutely were. You climbed on top of me and—"
"Okay." Jenny held up a hand. "Okay. We don't need to revisit that."
"I think we do."
"I think we don't."
"I think—"
"Children," Amanda said. "Please. Let's not fight before coffee."
Jenny and Cody exchanged a look. It was the kind of look that said we're both in way over our heads and neither of us knows how to get out.
"Fine," Jenny said. "Coffee. Then we talk."
"Talk about what?" Cody asked.
"About how you're going to walk into a Consortium compound and not get yourself killed."
The mood shifted.
Cody felt it—the weight of reality crashing back down on his shoulders. The warmth of the bed, the comfort of naked bodies, the lingering pleasure of the night before... all of it faded into the background.
He was going to infiltrate the Consortium.
He was going to lie to people who wanted him dead.
He was going to risk everything for a plan that might not even work.
"Yeah," he said. "We should talk about that."
---
The kitchen of the meditation center was small but functional.
Kim had stocked it with the basics: coffee, tea, rice, vegetables, the kind of food that kept a body running without requiring much thought. Maryam was already there when they stumbled in, fully dressed, a mug of coffee in one hand and her phone in the other.
She looked up when they entered.
"Morning," she said. "You all look like shit."
"Thanks," Amanda said. "You look great too."
"I know." Maryam took a sip of her coffee. "There's a pot on the stove. Help yourselves."
Cody poured three cups. Handed one to Amanda. Handed one to Jenny. Took a long drink from his own, letting the heat burn his tongue.
"So," Maryam said. "Kim's already gone. She left about an hour ago. Said she had to meet with someone about the mission."
"Who?" Jenny asked.
"She didn't say. Just said she'd be back by noon."
"That's not ominous at all."
"Everything's ominous these days." Maryam set her mug down. "So. You're really doing this. You're really going to walk into the Consortium and pretend you're on their side."
Cody nodded.
"And you're okay with that?"
"I'm not okay with any of this. But I don't see another way."
"There's always another way."
"Not this time."
Maryam studied him. Her hazel eyes—identical to Kim's, identical to their mother’s—were sharp and assessing.
"You loved your father," she said.
It wasn't a question.
"He was a bastard," Cody said. "He was cruel and controlling and he hated everything I believed in. But he was still my father. And when he collapsed... when the despair bomb went off... I felt something break inside me."
"Grief?"
"Relief." Cody's voice was quiet. "I felt relief. And then I felt guilty for feeling relief. And then I felt angry. And then I felt nothing at all."
"That's a lot of feelings."
"It was a lot of years of shit."
Maryam nodded slowly. "I get it. My dad's great, but he's also like a cop after being mom’s backup for years. He sees the worst in people. He taught me to see it too." She paused. "It's hard, loving someone who doesn't love you back the way you need them to."
Cody looked at her.
She looked back.
Something passed between them—a moment of recognition, of understanding, of two people who had grown up in the shadows of complicated families.
"Thanks," Cody said.
"For what?"
"For not pretending to understand. For actually understanding."
Maryam shrugged. "Don't mention it. Seriously. Don't mention it. I have a reputation to maintain."
"The tomboy with the baseball bat?"
"The tomboy with the baseball bat who doesn't do feelings."
"Your secret's safe with me."
"It better be."
---
Kim returned at eleven forty-seven.
She came through the front door with a folder in her hand and a grim expression on her face. Her sword was still strapped to her back. Her eyes were tired.
"We have a problem," she said.
Amanda's stomach dropped. "What kind of problem?"
"The kind that involves the Consortium knowing we're here."
The room went silent.
Cody's hand found Amanda's under the table. Squeezed.
"What do you mean?" Jenny asked.
"I met with one of my contacts. A Green Moon sympathizer who works in the Miami PD." Kim set the folder on the table. Opened it. Pulled out a photograph. "This was taken two days ago. Outside the meditation center."
The photograph showed a man in a dark suit. He was standing across the street, leaning against a lamppost, pretending to read a newspaper. His face was partially obscured, but his posture was unmistakable.
He was watching the building.
"Consortium?" Maryam asked.
"Consortium 2.0. We've seen this guy before. He's a low-level operative. Name's Marcus Webb. He's been tracking Green Moon activity in Miami for months."
"And now he's tracking us."
"Now he's tracking us."
Amanda's grip on Cody's hand tightened. "Do they know who we are?"
"Not yet. Or at least, not all of us. They know there's a Green Moon presence in Miami. They know someone's been using the meditation center. But they don't know it's me. And they definitely don't know about Cody."
"How can you be sure?"
"Because if they knew about Cody, they'd already have grabbed him. He's the son of their fallen leader. He's a symbol. They wouldn't waste time watching from across the street."
Cody exhaled. "So we're still safe."
"For now." Kim's eyes were hard. "But we need to move fast. If we wait too long, they'll figure out who's here. And then—"
"Then we're all dead."
"Then we're all in a Consortium prison. Which might be worse."
Jenny stood up. Paced the room. Her red hair caught the light, flaring like fire.
"We need to change the plan," she said.
"What plan? We don't have a plan. We have a sketch of a plan. We have a vague idea of a plan. We have—"
"We have Cody." Jenny stopped pacing. Turned to face him. "He's our way in. But if the Consortium already knows there's Green Moon activity here, they'll be suspicious. They'll test him."
"Test him how?"
"I don't know. But we need to be ready."
Kim nodded. "She's right. Cody, you need to make contact today. Before they get spooked. Before they realize we're onto them."
"Today?"
"Today."
Cody's heart hammered. His palms were slick with sweat. His mouth tasted like copper.
"Okay," he said. "Okay. What do I do?"
Kim pulled a phone from her pocket. Handed it to him.
"This is a burner. Untraceable. There's a number programmed into it—the Consortium's recruitment line. Call it tonight. Tell them who you are. Tell them you want to help."
"And then?"
"Then you wait. They'll set up a meeting. They'll want to vet you. They'll want to make sure you're not a spy."
"And if they decide I am?"
Kim's expression didn't change. "Then we go to Plan B."
"What's Plan B?"
"We burn the whole fucking thing to the ground."
---
In Brigid’s Miami hotel room, the phone rang.
Brigid was in a kitchen area, her red hair pulled back in a messy ponytail, her doctor's hands wrapped around a mug of tea. She'd been awake for eighteen hours—an emergency surgery that had gone long, a patient who'd coded twice on the table, the kind of night that made her question every life choice she'd ever made.
She picked up on the second ring.
"O'Connor."
"Brigid?" Mike Williamson's voice was strained. "Brigid, is that you?"
"Mike? What's wrong?"
"It's Mandy. And Calista. They—they collapsed. They won't wake up. Casey thinks it's something magical, but we don't—"
"Slow down." Brigid set her tea aside. Her mind was already racing. "What do you mean, they collapsed?"
"They were in Mandy's room. With Ben and Jess. And then they just... stopped. Like someone flipped a switch."
"Are they breathing?"
"Yes. Yes, they're breathing. But they won't wake up. We've tried everything. Nothing works."
"Where are you now?" Brigid asked.
"At the house. Mai's here. She's monitoring them. But we need help. We need—"
"We need Shiv."
Silence on the other end of the line.
"I'll call her," Brigid said. "And I'll come myself as soon as I can. Hang tight," she added. "We'll figure this out."
She hung up.
Then she dialed her mother.
---
Beth Williamson was in a coma.
Brigid didn't know that yet. She wouldn't know until she arrived at Shiv's house and found her unconscious on the couch, Marty hovering over her, Shiv barking orders in her thick Irish brogue.
But for now, Brigid just knew that something was wrong. Something magical. Something that affected people who touched the astral plane.
She grabbed her coat. Grabbed her keys. Grabbed the emergency kit she kept in the hall closet—the one with the crystals and the candles and the book of spells she'd never quite mastered.
She was halfway to the door when it opened.
Stacy Steinberg stood on the threshold. Her dark hair was streaked with silver. Her face was pale. Her hands were shaking.
"Brigid," she said. "Thank God."
"Stacy? What are you—"
"It's Rick. He collapsed. He won't wake up."
The words hit Brigid like a physical blow.
Rick. Mandy's brother. Calista's biological father. The boy who'd grown up in the same house, who'd learned to bake from Casey, who'd fallen in love with a woman twice his age and somehow made it work.
"What happened?" Brigid asked.
"I don't know. We were at the bakery. He was frosting a cake. And then he just... fell. Hit his head on the counter. I caught him before he hit the floor, but he won't wake up. He won't—"
"Where is he now?"
"At the hospital. They're running tests. But they don't know what's wrong. They think it's a stroke, maybe, or a seizure, but—"
"But it's not."
"No. It's not."
Brigid's mind raced. Mandy and Calista in Chicago. Rick in Miami. Three people, all connected, all unconscious.
Three siblings in the same family.
"Stacy," she said. "I need you to come with me."
"Where?"
"To my mother's house. Something's happening. Something big. And we need to figure out what it is before anyone else gets hurt."
Stacy nodded. Her eyes were red-rimmed. Her lips were pressed into a thin line.
"I'll drive," she said.
---
Shiv O'Connor was standing in her living room when they arrived.
Her red hair was loose, cascading down her back in waves. Her green eyes were sharp. Her face was a mask of calm that Brigid knew was entirely fake.
"Brigid Moira," she said. "I got your call."
"Mam. What's happening?"
"I don't know yet. But it's not good." Shiv gestured to the couch. Beth was lying there, pale and still, her chest rising and falling with slow, mechanical regularity. "She collapsed an hour ago. Marty found her."
Marty was sitting on the floor beside the couch. His face was streaked with tears. His hands were wrapped around Beth's, holding on like she might disappear if he let go.
"She was fine," he said. "She was fine, and then she just... fell. Like a puppet with the strings cut."
Brigid knelt beside the unconscious girl. Pressed two fingers to Beth's neck. Felt the steady pulse of blood beneath the skin.
"She's alive," she said. "But she's not here."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean her body's alive. But her mind is somewhere else. Somewhere I can't reach."
Shiv's jaw tightened.
"Same as Mandy. Same as Calista. Same as Rick." She looked at Brigid. "Four people. All connected. All unconscious. All—"
"All members of the same family. "
“Yes."
Stacy stepped forward. Her voice was raw. "What does that mean? What's happening to them?"
Shiv was quiet for a long moment.
It meant something. Brigid could see it in her mother's eyes—the fear, the calculation, the knowledge that something was very, very wrong.
"It means," Shiv said finally, "that someone's been using the astral plane in a way we don't understand. Someone's been pulling strings. Someone's been—"
She stopped.
Her green eyes went wide.
"Mam?" Brigid asked. "What is it?"
"The Shine," Shiv whispered. "They've been looking into the Shine."
"The Consortium prison?"
"The Consortium prison that holds something we don't understand. Something that's been calling to people for years. Something that—"
She stopped again.
Her face went pale.
"Something that's waking up."
---
Cody Murphy dialed the number at seven forty-three that evening.
His hands were shaking. His mouth was dry. Amanda was sitting beside him on the bed, her hand on his knee, her eyes fixed on his face.
The phone rang once. Twice. Three times.
Then a click.
"Consortium recruitment. How may I direct your call?"
The voice was pleasant. Professional. The voice of someone who worked in an office, who answered phones, who had no idea what kind of monsters she was working for.
Cody took a breath.
"My name is Cody Murphy," he said. "My father was Senator James Murphy. And I want to help finish what he started."
Silence on the other end of the line.
Then, very quietly:
"Hold, please."
The line went dead for ten seconds. Twenty. Thirty.
Then it clicked back on.
"Mr. Murphy," a new voice said. Male. Cold. "We've been expecting your call."
Cody's blood ran cold.
"Have you?"
"Your father was a great man. A visionary. His loss was a tragedy."
"Thank you."
"We've been watching you, Mr. Murphy. Waiting to see which side you'd choose."
"And what side is that?"
"The side that wins." A pause. "We'd like to meet you. Tomorrow. Noon. The old sugar factory on Fifth Street. Come alone."
"And if I don't?"
"Then we'll know you're not serious. And we'll stop watching."
The line went dead.
Cody stared at the phone.
Amanda stared at him.
"Well?" she asked.
"They want to meet tomorrow. Noon. The old sugar factory."
"That's a trap."
"I know."
"You're still going."
"I have to."
She kissed him. Hard. Desperate. Like she was trying to pour every ounce of her fear and love and hope into his body.
"Then I'm coming with you," she said. "And I'm bringing Maryam."
Cody nodded.
"Okay," he said. "Let's go make some bad decisions."
---
And somewhere in the darkness of the astral plane, Mandy Williamson opened her eyes.
She was standing on the beach again. The sickly sky stretched overhead, bruise-colored and wrong. The ocean lapped at her feet, warm and strange.
And in the distance, the Shine pulsed. Brighter than before. Stronger.
Calling.
Mandy looked at the key in her hand. The key the old man had given her. The key that was made of light and hope and the promise of answers.
"Okay," she said to no one. "Let's see what you're hiding."
She took a step forward.