M-13

An Unlikely Team

"It would be kept in the warehouse," I tell him, because anything involving someone with Mistacesemia that isn't an entire building and is result of an attack or use of power is stored there. "I can drive you there."

Even though I don't like this man at all for how he treated his son, if he's going to help get Silas out of the cell and prove his innocence, I'll do whatever it takes to help him.

Besides, Lincoln and I can't make Silas our boyfriend if he's behind bars!

James looks between myself and Lincoln. "I don't suppose you know a doctor who's a specialist in Mistacesemia as well?"

Lincoln saunters forward and flashes out his identification badge from work. "Yes, I do," he says and he's being very cocky, which I think is pretty funny, especially considering the look on James' face.

"Of course you are," James says, sounding exhausted. "Well, show me to this warehouse and then I need you to run some blood tests."

Lincoln skips over to my car, hopping in the front seat. "You can sit in the back," he tells James. "Because I still despise you for being a dick to Silas when he was young, and I like the front seat."

"So much for being a professional," James mumbles, and I know he's referring to Lincoln.

I start the car. "Please stop fighting or I'll make you stay here, Lincoln. We are trying to help our boyfriend out here," I warn him, and Lincoln shuts up with a huff.

"Does anyone have the blood tests for people with Mistacesemia? Because Silas says someone with the malfunction attacked him and I guarantee that they're the same person who blew up the apartment to hide the evidence," James says from the back seat, scanning through the notes he must have taken when talking with Silas.

"Yes, I know one of the people who mans a file unit," I tell him. "Lincoln, call Jared and ask him to get the files with blood results for the 2003 grouping of people with Mistacesemia."

Lincoln grabs my phone. "Atticus, it's three-"

"Call him."

"Fine," Lincoln says, dialing the number and seeming surprised when Jared answers. He relays my message before hanging up. "He said he'd meet us at my office."

We arrive at the warehouse and I go in alone, since I'm an officer and I doubt they'd let three people in. I show my identification and the buzz me in.

"What can we do for you?" the man at the front desk asks me, having me sign in on a sheet once he's scanned my ID.

"I'm looking for physical remains of an attack dating May 9th, 2025," I tell him, and he opens a book to skim through the pages.

He points to a line. "Ah, here we go!" he says, leading me back behind the counter and down the long shelves of the warehouse. "Row 98, shelf 14..."

I wait while he climbs a ladder and returns with a box about twelve inches wide and tall. When he hands it to me, I hear glass crunch in the box, and there's an "Organic Material" sign on the side of the box.

"There's blood in here?" I ask, because I know for a fact that blood is the thing we want, even though skin would be even better, but I don't know if we will get anything like that.