"I am not working with him! Not happening!" Jude's voice echoed through the precinct hallway.
"What's your damage, Jude? Simon is a top-tier asset," George Brawn, the Head of Ops, countered. He was coddling his subordinate like a petulant toddler. "Cool it, kid. I've signed the order, and that's the end of it."
"Why does it have to be me?" Jude let out a heavy, defeated sigh, sinking into his chair.
"What have you got against the guy, anyway?" Brawn asked, narrowing his eyes.
"The whole department says he's a straight-up warlock, George!"
George let out a genuine belly laugh, so hard his eyes started to water. He slammed his palm against the desk, gasping for air. "What, you afraid he's gonna put a hex on you, heartthrob?"
"Have some respect, Uncle. You're a grown man."
George gave his nephew a light clip behind the ear. "On the clock, I'm not your 'Uncle,' Officer. And as for the warlock—hell, as for Simon—you're the one stuck with him. Deal with it."
Jude opened his mouth to protest, but George had already snapped the folder shut.
***
Jude stood in front of an old brownstone at the dead end of a street where Brooklyn bled into the industrial docks. Instead of a lawn, the stoop was lined with concrete planters overflowing with exotic herbs. The fence was a jarring neon violet, and from the fire escape, a ginger cat with toxic, ivy-colored eyes judged him silently.
Jude didn't want to be here, but the new case couldn't wait. And Simon, as if to spite him, was ghosting his calls.
Jude pounded on the heavy oak door.
"Simon! You alive in there?" He cleared his throat to try again, but before he could speak, the door swung open. A young man stood there with a wild mane of chestnut curls and the exhausted gaze of someone who hadn't slept since the city was founded.
"Can I help you?" Simon's brown eyes carried that classic New York edge: 'Who the hell are you, and why are you wasting my time?'
"I'm Hudson. Jude Hudson."
"Ah," Simon exhaled. "The partner. What brings you to my neck of the woods?"
Simon wasn't exactly big on hospitality. Jude remained on the sidewalk under a miserable drizzle, shifting from foot to foot.
"There's... a missing person report. My uncle—I mean, Brawn—told me to come get you. Now."
Usually, Jude never lacked for words. He could hold his own against any subway preacher or street hustler, but near Simon, his brain seemed to glitch. The words tangled in his throat.
"You gonna wait?" Simon asked.
"For what?"
"The Second Coming," Simon smirked. "For me, obviously. Let me grab my coat; it's a mess out there."
"I'll wait."
'Probably forever,' Jude thought, immediately recoiling at his own reflection. 'Definitely a witch. One hundred percent.'
***
Jude tried his best not to look Simon in the eye—he'd read on some sketchy occult blog that urban mages could hack into your psyche that way. Simon ignored the antics. He was used to the side-eye and the whispers behind his back.
They drove for thirty minutes, finally stopping at a desolate highway interchange.
"The last time the cameras pinged the Uber carrying Hanna Shubin was right on this stretch. Total dead zone," Jude explained.
"What's the driver's story?"
"Claims he never saw her. Says he was home all day playing video games."
"Alibi?"
"Ring camera in his lobby confirms it. Guy named Palmer. He really didn't leave his apartment, except once to grab a pizza. He was gone for ten minutes tops."
"Curious," Simon drawled.
"So, what's the play?"
"Let's take a ride into Gravelton," Simon said. "It's a neighborhood just past the bridge. The Reddit threads about that place are pure nightmare fuel."
Gravelton wasn't on any map Jude had ever seen. It was just a rotting patch of industrial concrete where the Brooklyn docks supposedly ended and something else began.
Jude gave a hesitant nod. He was already struggling with Simon's vibe; a missing person case involving urban legends was the last thing he needed.
***
At the entrance to the district, they were met by a massive black dog—a beast that looked like a cross between a wolf and a tank. Simon smiled, scratched the creature behind its ears, and it began to wag its tail like a golden retriever. Jude was sold: Simon was a warlock. Because when Jude tried to step past, the dog let out a growl that made his blood run cold.
"He doesn't like me," Jude concluded.
"Who?"
"The hound from hell."
Simon buried his nose in his violet scarf. "Actually, it's the opposite. He's a bit too interested in you."
Jude shrugged. There was no figuring out these entities. He decided to pivot to something more grounded.
"You cold?"
"A bit. I'm a fan of summer and California vibes."
"Picked the wrong city to live in, then."
"I didn't exactly pick it," Simon said, a hint of amusement in his voice.
"It picked you?" Jude joked.
"You're laughing, Jude, but that's exactly how it went down."
"Are you really...?" Jude trailed off.
"Am I really what?"
"A warlock," Jude whispered, the word feeling heavy in the air.
Simon turned sharply, locking his gaze onto Jude's. The stare was so dense it felt physical. "It's not exactly a secret," he answered calmly. "But I stick to the small stuff. Herbs, urban acoustics, forest business in Central Park."
To his surprise, Jude's fear vanished. Being near Simon felt... grounding.
"Then why the badge?"
"There's too much paranormal trash in this city, and not enough of us to handle it. Someone's got to bag the ghouls before they eat all the hipsters."
"Right," Jude muttered.
***
Gravelton was unnaturally silent. In New York, silence was always a bad sign. Broken asphalt crunched under their boots as Simon led the way, his brow furrowed.
"Something's hinky here," Jude said. "I don't like the vibe."
"You feel it too?"
"You don't need magic to see this neighborhood is a sinkhole."
Jude glanced at the skeleton of an unfinished building. It looked ready to collapse, burying a thousand dark secrets beneath the concrete.
"You got a photo of the girl? You want to knock on every door?"
"Isn't that how cops work in the movies? Or are you trying to tell me we showed up without a photo?" Simon snarked.
"Funny guy," Jude snapped.
Simon blew on his chilled fingers. "God, it's freezing."
"Go back to the car; I'll crank the heater."
"I have a better idea," Simon said with a shark-like grin, pointing to a flickering neon sign: 'Val's Diner.'
Jude hesitated. He hated these greasy spoons on the edge of nowhere. You were just as likely to get a cup of dishwater as you were to run into a hitman.
"Relax. You're with a pro. We'll ask the locals. In places like this, people love to talk if you buy them a drink."
***
Inside, it was warm. A few somber types sat at the bar. When the bell above the door chimed, every head turned to stare at the newcomers.
Simon strode confidently to the counter. "What's the special today?"
The waitress, a young girl, turned beet red. "Beef stew," she mumbled, casting her eyes down.
"And coffee? Lots of it."
Jude sat down, keeping a sharp eye on a suspicious duo in the corner. Simon returned with two steaming bowls.
"I wouldn't eat that if I were you," Jude whispered. "Rule number one: Never take anything from the hands of the Unseen."
Simon laughed. "What 'Unseen'? These are just a couple of alcoholic brownies at best."
Jude just grunted.
"Fine," Simon yielded, "I'll ward your portion." He began to murmur a soft, rhythmic incantation. Jude was hypnotized by the sound, leaning in so close their knees bumped. An electric jolt shot through him. He'd already noticed Simon was attractive in a 'brooding-occultist' way, but that touch changed everything.
"Enjoy. You're perfectly safe," Simon smiled.
***
The stew was incredible. Simon, finally warm, was a different person—telling stories about chasing forest spirits through Upstate New York. Jude couldn't stop laughing. He'd almost forgotten they were on a case. His thoughts were a blur, and the only thing in focus was Simon's eyes. They were deep. Beautiful.
"We should get to work," Jude said, trying to regain his professional composure.
"Work? Ah," Simon slapped his knee. "Right. I forgot this wasn't a date."
Jude's heart skipped a beat, but he brushed it off. 'Date' sounded far too good. He imagined running his fingers through those curls...
"Jude? Hello? You still with me?"
Jude flinched. The warlock got to me! "I'm... yeah. Fine."
He walked over to the counter to play detective. The guys in the corner were eavesdropping. A shouting match broke out—Jude didn't even know how it started, but things escalated in seconds. Just as one of the locals moved to swing, Simon grabbed Jude's arm and hauled him out of the diner.
"That was assault on a federal officer!" Jude fumed once they were outside. "Why'd you pull me out?"
"Just imps, Jude. Little mischief-makers. They love knocking heads together. Do you even remember what you were arguing about?"
"No," Jude admitted, feeling like a fool. "But why?"
"Just for kicks."
"Why didn't you stop them then?"
Simon couldn't admit that Jude looked so ruggedly impressive while he was angry that he'd just wanted to watch. Simon's face flushed.
"My bad. Let's find Hanna. It'll be dark soon; we might have to bunk here tonight."
Jude wanted to scream that he wasn't staying in this neighborhood overnight, but he bit his tongue. He wasn't a coward. He was only afraid of Simon—and for a completely different reason.
***
Night hit hard. Neon signs grew brighter, shadows grew longer.
"I booked us a room at a motel nearby. Driving back through traffic in this soup is a dead end," Simon said.
"Fine, whatever," Jude waved it off. He had a theory, and he wanted to test it.
***
The motel was called 'Sweet Brooklyn.' It was a dump, but there was no other choice.
"Keep your guard up," Simon whispered at the door. "It smells like vampires in here."
Jude froze. "What?! Do I need garlic? A stake?"
"Nah," Simon smirked.
"Then I'm sleeping in your room. We're doing shifts. I'm not leaving you alone."
Jude looked ready to tear the throat out of any bloodsucker that dared show its face. Simon stepped closer and took his hand.
"Relax, Jude. I was messing with you. No vampires. Sleep well."
"Screw you, man!" Jude snapped, retreating to his room.
***
After a shower, Jude felt slightly more human. He sat by the window, staring at the empty street and thinking about Hanna. The pieces didn't fit. It was as if they were being led in circles. And Simon... Simon and his magnetism were making it impossible to focus.
He didn't notice himself drifting off. In a half-dream, he heard a sound—scratching. Like a dog at the door. Or someone crying?
He bolted upright. The sound was real. But the scratching wasn't at the door—it was coming from the ceiling. Jude grabbed his jacket and sprinted to Simon's room.
"Do you hear that?! There's something in my room! In the ceiling!"
"Poltergeists," Simon sighed. "Fine. We're bunking together."
Jude didn't argue. Simon brewed some tea.
"I used to get chased by these things when I was a kid," he smiled.
"In the city, we just have rats and lunatics," Jude countered. "So, why do you live in a place like this?"
"It's an ancestral estate," they both laughed. "You should visit. You'd like it."
"I'd love to," Jude said, taking a sip of the tea.
Suddenly, a pale face with jagged fangs slammed against the window. Jude jumped, reflexively shoving Simon behind him.
"Holy hell! You said you were joking about the vampires!"
"I was! I guess I jinxed us!"
The vampire scraped its claws against the glass.
"Do you have anything to stop it?!" Jude yelled.
"I've got this." Simon pulled a tiny wooden splinter from his pocket.
"Are you serious? A toothpick?"
"It's not the size, Jude, it's the technique! Open the window!" Simon commanded.
A freezing wind burst in, and the lights began to flicker.
"I smell power! Give it to me!" the vampire howled.
"Not today, pal!" Jude landed a massive hook to the creature's jaw. The crunch was satisfying. Boxing classes finally paid off. But then a second vampire lunged from behind Simon.
"I've got your back!" Jude yelled.
Simon drove the splinter into the creature's heart and grabbed Jude's hand.
"Move! Now's not the time for heroics!"
They sprinted to the car. Jude didn't let go of Simon's hand.
"So we don't get separated in the dark," he lied quickly.
"Right," Simon breathed, leading the way.
They jumped into the car and burnt rubber until Gravelton was a bad memory in the rearview mirror. They drove back to the city in silence. When they finally hit the violet fence, Jude burst into laughter. The adrenaline was still surging.
"Want to come in? I'll make you something for your nerves."
"I'm in," Jude said. "We still have the case to discuss."
"Jude..." Simon looked away guiltily.
"What? You hurt?" Jude grabbed his shoulders.
"No. I have to confess. There was no Hanna."
Jude went still.
"What do you mean?"
"I cast a glamour. An illusion. That's why the driver didn't remember her."
"Why the hell would you do that, Simon?!"
"Do you remember that office mixer a few months ago?" Simon slumped. "I was in the corner. You walked past me three times. I wanted to talk, but you wouldn't even look at me."
Jude blinked, stunned.
"So this was... revenge?"
"No, you idiot! I wanted to ask you out, but I didn't know how! You're the hero, the brave guy everyone loves. And I'm just the freak. I thought you'd laugh at me."
"And the vampires?!"
"That was a surprise for me too. I guess the neighborhood really is cursed."
A long silence followed. Jude looked at Simon. The day had been insane, but... it had been the best day he'd had in years.
"You're a total lunatic, Simon," Jude said. He reached out, grabbed Simon's curls, and pulled him in for the kiss he'd been dreaming of all day. Simon's lips were perfect. "Next time, I'm picking the location for the date."
"So... we're okay?"
"We're okay. But don't ever do it again."
"I won't. I really like you, Jude."
"I like you too, Simon."
Simon blushed and hid behind his scarf.
"Let's go inside," Jude said. "I want that tea. And then, we're going on a real date. No fangs, no imps, and absolutely no more of your witchy business."