Gwen's heart began to race faster than she had ever known. So fast, her fingertips began to feel lighter than air. She gasped for breath, her eyes slowly turning pink.
"Oh my, oh my, I can feel the magic rolling off you…" The dwarf tapped his fingers on the table with excitement.
{What is he doing to me?} Gwen tried to speak, to question him, but she couldn't get enough air. Slowly, like a storm cloud closing in, darkness crept in from the edges of her vision. The last thing she saw was the little dwarf moving closer before her body went weightless, and everything faded away.
---
9:30 PM – Saturday Night, Gwen's Apartment Building
Marci hopped out of the Uber in front of their apartment building. The old brick structure had once been a high school, and though its best days were behind it, it still carried a quiet dignity. She couldn't wait to tell Gwen about her date. It wasn't even 10 p.m. yet—Gwen would still be awake.
The night had gone surprisingly well. Josh wasn't the type of guy she usually dated, but he was funny, polite, and easy to talk to. That was rare.
She took the stairs instead of the elevator, too excited to stand still. Before she knew it, she was already on the third floor—Gwen's floor.
BING
Her phone chimed.
One new text:
Had a great time tonight. Hope you made it home safely. Maybe we can do dinner again tomorrow – Josh
Smiling down at her phone, Marci didn't notice that Gwen's apartment door was cracked open. She only realized something was wrong when a figure suddenly burst through it.
The hit came fast—hard enough to knock her completely off balance. She crashed into a decorative planter and hit the floor, jaw first. Pain shot up her face; she tasted blood. By the time she staggered back up, she heard the stairwell door slam shut.
Somewhere between falling and standing, her instincts kicked in. The XDE pistol from her appendix holster was already in her hands. Gwen had insisted they take firearm training when they opened their P.I. business, and tonight it might have saved her life.
Marci crept toward the open door. The apartment was unnaturally still, darker than the hallway. She stood just outside, waiting for her eyes to adjust. Seconds stretched like minutes.
Then she saw her—Gwen—on the floor.
Her hands were bound, a plastic bag over her head.
Marci's heart stopped.
She rushed inside, tearing the bag away and rolling Gwen onto her back. Blood was everywhere—down her face, across the floor, pooling among the shattered vase pieces.
Marci's hands shook as she searched her pockets.
She used her pocketknife to cut the bindings from Gwen's wrists and gently turned her sister onto her side to keep her airway clear. In the hallway, she found her phone face-down and shattered.
She punched at it until the screen flickered, barely readable, and dialed 911. Her other hand stayed pressed against Gwen's chest, feeling for the faint, struggling rhythm of a heartbeat.
---
The dwarf was standing over Gwen again, his expression grim. She tried to speak but drifted back into darkness.
"She has a weak pulse," a strange voice said as Gwen began to regain consciousness. The hardwood floor of her apartment melted away into the earthy scent of the burrow.
"Intriguing," the dwarf murmured, cradling her head in his rough hands.
"On three—one, two, three." Gwen felt herself lift, weightless, before the rigid stretcher, cervical collar, and immobilizers caught up to her awareness.
"I do not know if you can hear me, child, but pick one. Choose an anchor." His words sounded like guidance, like instructions.
"Let's get her to the elevator. Dispatch, we have a female, twenty-five years old, head trauma."
Gwen couldn't see through the wash of bright lights and blood.
"Will she be okay?" That voice—Marci's—filled with fear.
Gwen smelled mossy earth, then city smog. She heard the pop of the dwarf's fire and the blare of an ambulance siren—two worlds colliding and fading in and out. Then silence. Calm.
She found comfort in that calm… and then she faded into black.
---
Marci wiped her tears as the ambulance raced down 5th Street toward Saint James Hospital. Gwen had suffered a violent seizure, likely from the head trauma. Marci's emotions spun—fear, rage, helplessness. Gwen wasn't just her sister; she was her anchor. Without her, Marci never would've survived the system.
---
Meanwhile, at the Garden Center Mall
Mr. Jing rushed down the hall toward The Gazette. Mr. Cornwall met him halfway, both men short of breath but speaking volumes in silence. They didn't need to exchange words—they already knew. Side by side, they walked toward the exit, the air around them heavy with purpose.
---
9:45 PM – 10th Street Precinct
The phone on Detective Stone's desk rang sharply.
"Detective Stone… I see. I'll be there shortly. And Ms. Brollachan—keep an eye on her until I arrive. Intervene if needed."
He hung up and leaned back, eyes narrowing.
[Maybe she isn't so innocent after all.]
He called the 5th Street Precinct next, requesting the case be transferred under his jurisdiction. Given Ms. Greene's connection to his investigation, it wouldn't raise suspicion.
---
Rain hammered against the hospital windows, thunder shaking the glass. Detective Stone stood under the ER overhang, soaked despite his coat, phone pressed to his ear.
"Yes, sir. I've arrived. I've already taken over the case. Yes, she's connected. Thank you, sir." He slipped his phone into his pocket and exhaled slowly.
[All right, Ms. Greene… let's see what trouble you've found this time.]
---
Marci had fallen asleep in a chair beside Gwen's hospital bed. Mr. Jing and Mr. Cornwall stood in the doorway, silent sentinels.
"She's nearby," Bai whispered.
William didn't need to ask who. He could feel Ms. Brollachan's presence hiding within the shadows.
The elevator chimed. Detective Stone stepped into the hallway, his presence instantly shifting the air. Both men tensed.
William sighed. "How do you think this is going to go?"
Bai chuckled softly. "Well, let's see how this plays out."
"Gentlemen," Stone greeted, approaching with calm authority. "It's good to see she has some support."
They both stared—his tone was almost… human. Concerned, even.
"Aye, she's like a daughter to us," William said, glancing toward Gwen. For a moment, his eyes softened.
"Do you have any idea what happened?" Bai asked, though he already knew Stone's answer.
"CSI is combing her place now. If we find a connection between her attack and the Mepple murders, we'll assign protection."
William squared his shoulders. "You'd better find who did this—and why."
"What I know," Stone replied evenly, "is that you're tired, angry, and scared. But I also know this wasn't random. It was personal." His voice hardened, the words hanging like a threat.
"Listen here, De-tec-tive," Bai growled, "if more harm comes to her, we'll have questions—and you'll give answers."
"I think you've forgotten how things work these days." Stone's tone turned cold. "But I'll make you both a deal—stay here and watch over her. I'll check in with CSI and send a proper detail."
"Stone, make sure it's a top-notch officer," Bai warned.
"Of course," Stone replied flatly. "Until then, Ms. Brollachan's nearby if something happens you two can't handle."
William's patience snapped. "The only thing in this city we can't handle is YOU."
Stone paused at the elevator, turning just enough for them to see his eyes. They both flinched, as if his gaze burned through them.
"I'm aware," he said quietly. "But just because you can doesn't mean you should. We all have laws to follow."
He straightened his coat and stepped into the elevator.
---
End Chapter 7