“Just. . . one. . . sec,” Selena said. “Critical hit!” the receiver blared from the volume of Selena’s cry.

“Selena!” Amanda yelled back.

“Alright, alright. I’m off.”

Amanda glanced at the Discord channel to confirm that Selena was no longer playing any games.

“I want you at the mansion. Now!” Amanda repeated. “If Kyrine kills the keeper, we’re all going to be in trouble.”

“Oh, I doubt Kyrine will do that. I did my research. I really think Kyrine will like Jeremy.”

“That’s because you like him.” A thought struck Amanda. “You didn’t compromise the mission, did you?”

“We might have kissed. But it was just the once, when we were drunk. Housemates fun, you know. Not that I didn’t want to fuck him. I’ve seen him naked, once when he didn’t think I was home and he came out of the shower… Kyrine might not have screwed the other Keepers, but she’s really going to miss out if she doesn’t screw this one.”

“You’re going to make sure she doesn’t miss out. Even if that means you stripping Jeremy naked and forcing him to have sex with Kyrine!”

A moan came through the receiver.

“What was that?” Amanda asked.

“Sorry, but this kind of talk is getting me all hot and bothered, Agent Fallon.” Selena snickered.

“Get to the mansion. Now.”

“You got it.”

The call ended, and Amanda had to force herself to exhale slowly. Mana was quickly pooling in her body’s cultivation channels, and she’d inadvertently caused the ground beneath her shoes to crater a little. She’d spent too long out of the field, too long not exercising control of her magic. She grabbed a pen and a notepad before scribbling a reminder to have maintenance repair the linoleum she’d just ruined.

With a sigh, Amanda reached into the top drawer of her desk. Her fingers passed over her service weapon, a Smith & Wesson revolver that she had been crafting for the last three years. Most agents carried the standard issue soulbound automatic 9mm Glock sidearm issued by the agency, which fired a mixture of standard and spell charged ammunition.

Amanda’s weapon was different. Each chamber in the six-shooter’s cylinder could be loaded with a spell from the vast array of spells that she had mastered. It was loaded by a focused act of will, dispensing with the laborious reloading process which usually went with a revolver. She had a standard issue Glock as well, of course, but the S&W was a labor of love, and she felt safe with its reassuring weight bouncing against her hip when she was on the street.