The news was calling it an accident. Some sort of gas leak that had built up over time and erupted. The building was closed until the proper authorities could ensure it was safe. I kept waiting for the real story to leak out, but so far there’d been no mention of the hidden tower running through the building.

  Likewise, there had been no mention of the wretch corpses, recovered or otherwise. Wilhelm Weaver and five of the eight students in his PhD program were discovered in a van at the bottom of the Fresh Hill Reservoir the following afternoon. According to authorities, the working theory was that they had been returning from a literary conference near Providence when they’d gotten turned around, run off the road, and ended up in the water. The three missing students were believed to be with them, although their bodies had yet to be recovered.

  Watching on local news stations, it was obvious there was some sort of giant cover up in effect, but whether Harvard was responsible or someone else, I couldn’t say.

  I got out of the hospital later that day and made my way home, where I spent the next few days recovering. I didn’t have any more sick days on the books, but Lieutenant Kermit signed me up for a training course in hostage negotiation strategy. It was online, so I watched the videos while wrapped up in a blanket on my couch drinking hot coffee and eating chicken noodle soup.

  A lot of things happened over the next few weeks.

  Milo regained consciousness shortly after I got home from the hospital. He was still recovering, but every day his strength grew, and shortly thereafter he and Tobin moved into a new apartment.

  Dr. Hami left shortly after they did, although not before brewing me a pitcher of green tea. He walked out with a smile and a wave and a reminder that he had never been there.

  The bodies of Cyprus and June Greenhill have never been recovered. Milo and Tobin held a memorial for them a few weeks later, purchasing a stone plaque in a cemetery nearby their home.

  Likewise, Easton’s body never turned up, and despite my best efforts, I have yet to find a record of him or learn his real name. Every lead I followed just led to a dead end, which, if I’m being honest, is probably how he would have wanted it.

  Alberad returned to his jewelry store, and a few weeks later we all received gold pins in the shape of tree leaves in the mail. It served as a nice memento for all of us.

  Penhaligon, Amos, and Orla dropped by to express their gratitude a couple of days after I got home, although they were plenty put out when I told them we hadn’t been able to recover the ring.

  They’d already gotten the tree samples from Auggy, but were no help at all in discovering Easton’s identity. At my request, they made sure the Arnold Arboretum staff received an anonymous tip that led them to a backpack sitting beside a park bench. Inside was the sample of the White Oak, along with an explanation for the missing charred bits. Officially, the case is still open, but how much attention it’s getting is anyone’s guess.

  Auggy sprung Master Paco from animal control and then moved in with Alberad for a while. Last I heard, he was still writing poetry and crusading on behalf of the parks. He doesn’t get arrested near as often anymore. I suspect having Master Paco to care for had given him some perspective, and that’s never a bad thing.

  Tobin took a few days to get him and Milo set up in their new apartment and then went back to work. The cuts along his face had been stitched, but he would bear the scars for the rest of his life. I knew what that was like.

  Warman claimed he fell down the stairs at his house, hitting his back and causing a hairline fracture to two of his ribs. He took a few days off, then returned to light duty. He dropped by at the end of the week and the two of us finished the last of my training videos together while sharing a pizza and the last of the green tea.

  We left the ring in Warman’s possession. I mean, come on, you didn’t really think we left it behind, did you?

  We figured my apartment was getting a little crowded, what with Excalibur in my fish tank and all. Better it stayed with him, hidden in a secret compartment built into his forge. The two of us were the only ones who knew how to retrieve it, and that seemed okay for now.

  As for the entity supposedly dwelling beneath our feet, I hadn’t a clue what that was really about. The explosion inside the tower could have been explained by some sort of natural anomaly, or a man-made one. Some sort of detonator, meant to go off unless the ring was returned. I don’t know at this point. Likely there were answers, if I was willing to dig hard enough, but something inside told me that I didn’t know enough to know what questions I should even be asking.

  Mysteries upon mysteries.

  Layers upon layers. Just like the tower.

  “You know what bothers me?” I asked, once the credits had begun to roll on my training videos.

  “What’s that?”

  “We know what we saw inside the tower. Someone had to build that thing.”

  “Yep.”

  “It probably took a lot of time and resources.”

  “Undoubtably.”

  “So, presumably, someone should be pretty angry right about now.”

  “According to Penhaligon it was built by a dragon.”

  “Right,” I said. “Except we’re operating under the belief that dragons don’t really exist.”

  “If you say so.”

  “I do,” I said. “But if not a dragon, someone should have spoken up by now. I mean, it’s been quiet. Really quiet.”

  “You think someone’s biding their time?”

  “Seems like the only likely explanation. But the more I think about that tower, the more I think we might have stirred up more than we realized.”

  Warman was quiet for a moment. “You think we’ve got some payback coming?”

  “Could be.”

  “You worried?”

  “Always,” I said. “But on the bright side, we’re still here.”

  “And that’s enough?”

  “It is for today,” I said.

  The End

  Scan the QR code below to order Book 9, Mass Riot, today.

  Author’s Note

  Dear Readers,

  Another novel completed. This one was a heck of a lot of fun. There aren’t too many people in this world who get to spend their days writing these kinds of stories, and I am beyond grateful for all of your support.

  Many of the historical elements surrounding the history of Harvard used in this book are true. It’s a fascinating subject to learn about, although I did take the liberty of adding in a few fictional elements when needed. As always, I hope you’ve enjoyed the ride so far, and rest assured there is still plenty more in store for Chloe and company.

  What’s next? Book #9 will be titled Mass Riot. Throughout the city, priests are showing up dead, and every whisper suggests that witches are to blame. The traces of a war that has been brewing for better than three centuries at last comes to a head, with either side willing to watch the city burn if it means achieving victory.

  My sincerest thanks as always,

  Justin Herzog

  What's Next in the Series?

  Mass Riot

  As Summer Draws to an End, a Season of Blood Begins.

  Throughout the city, priests are being murdered, and every whisper suggests that witches are to blame.

  In response, The Catholic Church declares open warfare on the occult, stirrings the fires of hate and unleashing a level of brutality not seen since 1692. A war that has been brewing for the better part of three centuries at last comes to a head as past sins ignite present battles, and both sides stand willing to watch the city burn if it means achieving victory.

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  Justin Herzog, Dangerous Business: Blue Moon Investigations: Boston Book 8

 

 

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