Nora's POV
The news reports all echo the same disturbing story. I lower the volume on my laptop and move back to the supply cabinet, gathering the potions my friends and I brewed recently. We need to get to Chicago fast, and James insists I pack enough magical arsenal to fight a small war. A man emerged from Lake Michigan, completely ignored the crowd of witnesses, announced he was searching for the halfbreed, then vanished without a trace.
James holds up his phone, displaying a missing person report. "Could this be our guy?"
I compare the photograph to the rough police sketch circulating online. The resemblance seems close enough. "Possibly."
"His name is Dawson Palmer. He disappeared over a week ago. The guy had connections to organized crime and multiple outstanding warrants when he went missing."
"So someone gave him the concrete shoes treatment."
