Ritual of the Broken (Haunted Hearts)

Chapter 27

Chapter

Twenty-Seven

O llie leaned back in his chair, a satisfied smile on his face. All this seeing her as an annoying ghost, and he never even suspected the true connection that bound them together.

He turned to Adrian. “Can you believe it?” he asked. “Isabell is my grandmother. All this time, she’s been trying to guide me.”

Adrian’s expression remained impassive, his jaw set in a firm line as he regarded Ollie. There was a hardness in his eyes that gave Ollie pause.

But Ollie pressed on. “She said the next victim would be near water.” He picked up the journal and started leafing through the pages. “It’s not much to go on, but at least we have a lead now. I can probably figure something out from one of these passages. It might be enough to…” Ollie paused when Adrian refused to meet his gaze. “What’s wrong, Adrian? ”

Adrian’s brow deepened, his gaze flickering toward Mary Ann. Ollie followed his glance. She sat motionless, her eyes glazed over as if trapped in a trance. The sight only seemed to deepen the scowl etched onto Adrian’s features.

“You said you could control it.” The werewolf’s voice was clipped, barely contained anger.

Ollie blinked, taken aback by the heat in Adrian’s tone. He sat up straight. The demon. Anger of his own flared in Ollie’s chest. “I did control it. I kept it contained.” He wanted to pound his fists on the table, but he didn’t. “I’m so sick of people telling me I don’t have control over my power. I passed all my classes. I aced all of my assessments. My power is just as good as any other mage.”

Adrian only stared at Mary Ann, his breathing heavy. Ollie had the sudden sense that, mage or not, maybe it wasn’t good to yell at a werewolf.

But Ollie wasn’t going to let that stop him. This was important. He stood up in front of Adrian. “Need I remind you that it worked?”

Finally, Adrian’s gaze met his, and there was an intensity there. His jaw tightened, and he pointed an accusatory finger toward Mary Ann. “Did it?” he challenged, his words cutting deep. “Take a good look at her, Ollie. Is that really the price you’re willing to pay?”

Mary Ann. His friend. The one who was there when Emmerich dumped him and who tried to help him dig out of wallowing in it. A sickening realization hit him like a punch to the gut—Adrian was right. He had done this to her. By bringing the demon into her apartment, he had inadvertently allowed an infernal influence to seep into her mind.

“Mary Ann?” he called out tentatively. He walked over to her. “Mary Ann, can you hear me?”

No response. Not even a flicker of recognition in her vacant gaze.

Swallowing hard, Ollie tried again. He bent down in front of her. “Mary Ann, it’s me, Ollie.”

Still, she remained catatonic.

Ollie’s heart raced as he reached out, gently placing his hand on her shoulder. “Mary Ann, please, come back to me.”

Suddenly, her eyes regained focus, and she flinched away from his touch, a scream tearing from her lips. Scrambling backward, she pressed herself against the wall, her chest heaving with panicked breaths as she stared at Ollie with unbridled terror.

“Wait! WAIT! You’re safe now,” Ollie pleaded, holding up his hands in a placating gesture. “The demon is gone, I promise.”

But his words fell on deaf ears. Mary Ann’s eyes were wide and haunted, her entire body trembling uncontrollably.

Guilt gnawed at Ollie, and he knew he had to act quickly before the situation spiraled further out of control. Mustering his resolve, he raised his hands and began weaving a calming enchantment, the air around him shimmering with arcane energy .

Mary Ann fought against the spell, her screams turning to incoherent babbling as she tried in vain to resist its soothing influence. But eventually, her eyelids grew heavy, and she slumped forward, falling into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Ollie exhaled shakily, his shoulders sagging with the weight of his remorse. He had put one of his closest friends in harm’s way, all for the sake of his own selfish quest for knowledge.

“Well?” Adrian’s voice cut through the silence, laced with barely restrained anger. “Are you happy now?”

Ollie flinched, unable to meet the detective’s accusatory glare. “I... I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“But it did,” Adrian snapped. “And now we have to deal with the consequences of your actions.” Without saying more, Adrian picked Mary Ann up and carried her toward the bedroom at the back of the apartment.

Ollie could only stand there, watching.

Adrian stood in Mary Ann’s dimly lit bedroom, watching her chest rise and fall with each steady breath. She looked so peaceful, curled up under the covers, her dark hair fanned out on the pillow, in stark contrast to the chaos that had unfolded less than an hour earlier.

He pulled the blanket up gently, tucking it around her shoulders. The lingering scent of magic clung to the air, a reminder that she was asleep because of magic. She was like this because of magic. She didn’t sleep of her own accord. Adrian’s nose twitched, the acrid odor igniting a familiar resentment within him.

He hated magic. Hated the way it twisted and manipulated reality, leaving destruction in its wake. Too many times he had witnessed its corrupting influence, had been a victim of its cruelty. The memories resurfaced, unbidden—Colonel Langford’s calculating gaze that, Adrian was sure, often held a glint of twisted glee as he stripped Adrian of his free will, forcing him to commit unspeakable acts.

A low growl rumbled in Adrian’s chest, his fingers curling into fists at his sides. Even now, he could feel the demon’s insidious tendrils slithering through his mind, seeking out his weaknesses and exploiting them with cruelty. It had dredged up the darkest corners of his psyche, forcing him to confront the parts of himself he fought so hard to suppress. And not the usual playlist that haunted him all that time with Colonel Langford. No, he’d gotten very good at dredging those up on his own. Instead, the demon went back further to the days his own father made him feel worthless, inadequate, as if he would never become a true wolf. He would never be an alpha, never lead his pack. The demon made him relive those terrible moments in his childhood when all he could do was take the beatings and try to keep from crying because it only made his dad angrier.

As the demon’s whispers had pushed into his head, he nearly lost control—the wolf had indeed clawed its way to the surface, desperate to be unleashed, but Adrian was able to hold it back. To fight the specter of his memories. If not for his years of discipline and—it annoyed him to even think it right then—Ollie’s magical intervention, he might have...

Adrian swallowed hard, pushing the thought away. He had vowed never to give that side of him free rein again, not after the last time. The guilt still weighed heavily, a constant burden he could never seem to shed.

Anger simmered as his gaze fell upon Mary Ann’s sleeping again. She had been an innocent bystander, caught in the crossfire of a world she knew nothing about. A mortal who never should have been in the same room. Adrian had no idea how to help her and no one to turn to for guidance.

All he knew was that he couldn’t let anyone else suffer at the hands of magic, not while he still drew breath. The demon had been a ruthless reminder of why he hated mages and their twisted ways. And why he had to see this through.

But Ollie...

He didn’t know what to think about Ollie.

Closing his eyes, he took a long breath in and blew it out. There was so much conflict, so much confusion where Ollie was concerned. None of which he could figure out standing there. He turned around and left Mary Ann’s bedroom.

Adrian returned to the living room. He found Ollie sitting on the sofa, head bowed, shoulders slumped. The mage’s face was a mask of guilt and remorse, and when he looked up at Adrian, his eyes glistened with unshed tears.

For a fleeting moment, Adrian felt a twinge of sympathy for the man. He knew what it was like to be haunted by regrets, to carry the weight of decisions that couldn’t be undone. But then the memory of the demon’s malevolent presence resurfaced, and the simmering anger surfaced once more.

No. He couldn’t afford to feel sorry for Ollie, not when it was his reckless plan that had landed them in this mess. Adrian crossed his arms over his chest, his expression hardening as he steeled himself against the mage’s imploring gaze.

“We need to figure out our next steps,” he said, his voice gruff and unyielding.

Ollie’s mouth opened and he began to speak, his words tumbling out in a rush. “Adrian, I’m so sorr?—”

But Adrian raised a hand, cutting him off with a sharp shake of his head. “We need to figure out our next steps,” he repeated, leaving no room for argument.

Ollie visibly deflated, as though he’d been punched in the gut. For a long moment, he simply stared at Adrian, his eyes filled with a mixture of hurt and resignation. Finally, he gave a small nod, swallowing hard as he seemed to gather himself.

Adrian clenched his jaw. He couldn’t afford to dwell on what had transpired with the demon, not when there were still so many unanswered questions looming over them .

“Let’s focus on the task at hand,” he said, his voice clipped. “Preston Hartley being alive changes everything.”

Ollie nodded, his expression grave. “If he truly is behind this ritual, then we’re dealing with a force more powerful than we realized. He’s been alive for at least three hundred years. His magic is likely refined and grown. He won’t be like those mages we met on the street. He’ll be much worse.”

Adrian frowned, remembering what he’d seen in the mage Forums, the archmage crushing his opponent with a flick of his wrist. Ollie was saying that’s what they were up against. It wasn’t good to wallow in all the unknowns. He needed to keep his attention on the case, pick it apart, and hope that the evidence they found gave them a way to deal with Preston Hartley. “We still don’t know who the fourth victim will be or where the next soul harvest will take place.”

“We know who the fifth will be,” Ollie said.

That made Adrian want to say something, to comfort him. But he stopped himself. “If we stop the fourth soul harvest from happening, then there won’t be a fifth.”

Ollie turned and paced. “Isabell said it would be near the water, and we know it will be east of whatever the center point of this whole ritual is. If I could study the journal some more, I might be able to narrow down where. At least get some idea of the requirements for where the next harvest should take place.”

“We don’t have a lot of time, and in case you’ve forgotten, there’s a lot of water to the east of us in Lake Michigan.” Adrian put his hands on his hips. “Another one of your visions would be nice right about now.”

Ollie’s shoulders tensed, his eyes clouding with uncertainty. “I was a lot more comfortable about those when I thought Isabell was the one giving them to me. What if it’s Preston giving me the visions?”

The weight of that possibility hung between them, chilling Adrian to the core. If Preston Hartley was indeed manipulating Ollie’s visions, then they were probably doing exactly what he wanted. “Then that means they’re probably a trap.” Adrian voiced his concern, his jaw tightening.

Ollie’s brow furrowed. He reached for the journal and turned it around to read. But before Adrian could press further, Ollie’s body went rigid, his eyes rolling back as he slumped against the sofa.

Adrian’s instincts kicked in, and he was at Ollie’s side in an instant, steadying the mage’s convulsing form. He had seen this before—Ollie was having another vision.

“Well, that was just a little too convenient,” Adrian muttered, his grip firm as he prevented Ollie from injuring himself.

Moments later, the tremors subsided, and Ollie’s eyes fluttered open, his expression one of grim determination.

“I know where the fourth victim’s soul is going to be harvested,” Ollie rasped. “And it hasn’t happened yet.”

Trap or no, they really had no other leads—and no other choices.