91: Chapter 91 Madison, the Movie King

However, since Madison was throwing a bit of a tantrum, Sean still had to deal with it.

Sean walked over and sat on the bed: "Madison."

"Don't touch me."

Madison dodged his hand, turned around, and faced away from him.

Sean looked at her back; her shoulders were narrow and trembling slightly.

What an actress!

With an inward sigh, Sean continued: "I'll be back in a few days."

Madison didn't speak, remaining silent for a long time.

Then she turned over and looked at Sean, tears glistening in her blue eyes but not falling: "When you go, don't get too close to her."

Sean was stunned for a moment: "What?"

"She's pretty, I know," Madison's voice was very soft. "Just don't get too close to her."

Sean said seriously: "She and I are just partners."

After speaking, he added inwardly...

"At least for now."

Madison stared at him for three seconds, then averted her gaze: "Whatever."

She lay down, pulled the quilt over her head, and curled up inside, like a cat.

Sean knew that Madison was deliberately doing this to put pressure on him.

Perhaps Madison knew he was popular with women, which is why she started this act to leave him with such an impression.

Sean sighed helplessly, walked out of the room, and saw Cordelia standing in front.

"Is Madison angry?"

Sean nodded.

Cordelia sighed: "She's not angry at you, she's... afraid you'll leave and not come back."

Sean didn't speak.

Cordelia looked at him, a trace of heartache in her gentle eyes: "Sean, you're going to Los Angeles not just to investigate that case, are you?"

Sean thought for a moment: "Ballard asked me to go; it's probably related to me, so I have to check it out."

Cordelia nodded and said: "You have the Supreme Witch's power on you. Although it hasn't spread, someday Marie Laveau will know, Elizabeth will know, and that low-level demon will also know."

"If you stay in New Orleans, they will come for you. If you go to Los Angeles, they will also come for you."

She turned around and looked at Sean.

"But if you go to Los Angeles, at least the witches here can catch a breath. Fiona is in a coma, Cordelia has failed, and the witches are leaderless. If you leave, those who are watching you will follow you."

Sean looked at her: "Are you telling me to leave?"

Cordelia shook her head: "I'm not telling you to leave, I'm saying that your leaving is also good for us."

She walked back, sat on the sofa, and picked up her teacup: "I'll talk to Madison."

Sean nodded: "Thank you."

Cordelia shook her head: "Don't mention it, you're being targeted because of us. This much, I should do."

Sean then packed his travel bag and walked out.

As he reached the door, Cordelia's voice came from behind him.

"Sean."

He stopped.

"Be careful, Los Angeles is not like New Orleans. The things there are older, fiercer."

Sean took Cordelia's words to heart, but didn't look back, pushed the door open, and walked out.

The sun shone on him, warm and pleasant.

He put his travel bag in the back seat, got in the car, started the engine, and planned to drive directly to Los Angeles.

...

Sean drove for nine hours straight, from New Orleans to Los Angeles.

Westward, through the swamps of Louisiana, the badlands of Texas, the deserts of New Mexico, and the canyons of Arizona.

The sun streamed through the windshield, making the steering wheel hot.

He rolled down the window a crack; dry, hot air rushed in, carrying the scent of the desert, completely different from humid New Orleans.

It was almost dark when he entered California.

He drove west along Interstate 10, the distant mountains becoming black silhouettes in the twilight, and the city lights lit up on the horizon, patch after patch, like scattered stars.

Los Angeles had arrived.

The address Ballard gave was in downtown Los Angeles, near the old district.

He parked the car in the parking lot beneath a gray-white building, turned off the engine, and sat in the driver's seat, staring at the iron gate outside the windshield.

Next to the gate was an intercom, with a faded piece of paper taped to the button, reading "Ballard."

He got out of the car, walked over, and pressed it.

"It's me, Sean."

The iron gate hummed and opened.

He walked in. The corridor was long, dimly lit, and the floor was made of old tiles, making a slight sound as he walked on them.

Ballard's room was on the third floor. The door was open, and she stood in the doorway, wearing a gray T-shirt and black pants, holding a cup of coffee. Seeing him, she nodded.

"Come in."

Sean walked in.

The room was small: a bed, a desk, a chair, a wardrobe.

The desk was piled with documents and photos, and a map of Los Angeles was tacked to the wall, with several circles drawn in red pen.

The lights from outside the window shone in, illuminating those circles.

"How long did you drive?" Ballard asked.

"Nine hours."

Ballard glanced at him: "You should have flown."

Sean shrugged: "Driving is more convenient."

Ballard said nothing more, walked to the desk, picked up a folder, and handed it to him: "Read this first."

Sean took the folder and opened it.

The first page was a black-and-white photo, showing the interior of a church.

In the photo, a wall had been torn open, revealing a hidden compartment inside.

The compartment was stuffed with things, black and lumpy, unclear what they were, but Sean knew.

Ballard had said, thirteen bodies, buried for over forty years.

But Ballard must have been following this case for a long time, so why suddenly call him now?

Just as he was thinking, Ballard suddenly said: "Sean, go rest for a bit. There's no rush to work on this case."

Sean was taken aback.

Driving nine hours from New Orleans was indeed tiring.

But he glanced at the room... well, he was pretty sure there was only one bed.

So Sean asked: "Where do I sleep?"

Ballard turned her head, looked at him, then at the bed: "You sleep on the bed, I'll sleep on the sofa."

Sean looked at the narrow sofa: "You can fit?"

"I've slept in worse places."

Ballard turned back and continued flipping through documents.

Alright.

Since Ballard had said so, Sean wasn't in a hurry and decided to rest for a while.

However, as he lay on the bed, his mind was still a mess.

So he asked: "Ballard, why did you suddenly pick up this case again?"

Ballard's hand paused, and after a moment, she said: "Because this case involves supernatural power. I didn't believe in these things before."

"The bodies in the church, cause of death unknown, no external injuries, no poisoning. I thought it was just the forensic doctor failing to find it, or insufficient technology."

"But ever since I met you, I realized that some things can't be found by technology."

"You have that power; you can see what I can't, you can deal with what I can't. So... I came to find you!"