Page 33 of Spirit Storm

We drop our bags by the door and sit. He stays standing, hands folded behind his back, and surveys us the way a teacher surveys a class that has already disappointed him.

"I'll be direct with you five." He moves to the head of the table without sitting. "The Ireland Chapter of the Order of the Arcane is well able to investigate this site ourselves. We’ve researchers, magical specialists, and generations of history with this land that your group simply doesn’t have.”

Asher opens his mouth, but a cold glare shot in his direction ends the impulse to speak.

“Our findings would’ve been documented and circulated to every chapter inside a fortnight. Every coven, every guild, every registered practitioner informed properly, without unnecessary excitement. My point," he says, with the precision of someone closing a door, "is that there was no call for your presence.”

I straighten. “Garrison seems to disagree.”

He arches an imperious brow at me. “Aye, well. Given that you lot are directly responsible for letting the plundering demon onto the physical plane in the first place, you'll understand if I’m less than delighted to have you here."

Excuse me?

Asher shifts forward. "That's not fair. We did everything we could to⁠—"

“I’m sure you did. And fair play to you for standing against a major demon and living to tell the tale. But your little band of Scooby-Doo adventurers⁠—”

“Hey, now,” Asher stands.

"No, it’s fine." I hold out a hand and keep my eyes on the man across the table. "He’s not entirely wrong.”

He blinks, apparently unprepared for my response.

“But you’re not entirely right either. Yes, Tharuzel escaped on our watch, but we inherited a problem that had been all but ignored for over five years. And, I might add, we’re the only ones who got off our asses to even try to stop him.”

He recalibrates. "Maybe so. Nonetheless, the end result is the same. You’re in deeper water than you know.”

“No. Tharuzel is still free, true, but we know him and what he’s capable of better than you, and are the most motivated to send him back to where he came from.”

The guy looks thoroughly unimpressed. “We’ll leave that as a difference of opinion. Whatever the case, the High Chancellor has instructed that your party be given access to the site and any information we’ve gathered. That’s what you’ll have.”

“Thank you.”

He dips his chin. “We’ll see to your lodging while you’re here, if you need it. But you’ll not set foot inside that cave without one of our people alongside you. Am I understood?”

"Perfectly," I say.

He gives a single nod. "Grand. Then what we know of the cave and its markings comes chiefly from our staff historian, Ms. Freya Murphy. She will take charge of you and bring you through what we’ve learned.”

Mr. Personality waves toward the doorway, and a middle-aged woman appears.

“Thank you, Cormac. I’ll take it from here. I’m sure you have a million things waiting for your attention.”

Cormac straightens his cardigan and passes one last dismissive look over us. “Remember what I said. You’re not to go anywhere near those caves without a representative from our team.”

I nod. “Got it. Thanks.”

When he leaves, Freya pulls the door shut and joins us at the table. She sets her backpack on the floor and then takes in our group. She looks to be in her mid-forties, fit, and dressed for adventure more than the administrative style of Mr. Personality.

She’s also got the same vivid blue eyes as me and the guy awkwardly looming at the end of the table.

Her gaze meets mine, then travels to Sleepy Guy, then softens. “Ah, two more Descendants of the Nine. It’s grand to meet you both. And thank you for coming.”

I straighten and meet the confused gazes of my friends. “Descendants of the Nine?”

She gestures toward the guy at the end of the table. “We’ll get to that. How about we start with a round of introductions and what we offer to the situation? As Cormac mentioned, I’m Freya Murphy, Ireland chapter, and I’m a historian.”

“Henrik Sørensen.” The shaggy-haired blond at the end of the table smiles faintly, giving our group a lazy two-fingered wave. “Denmark chapter, archeologist and runes specialist."