Agent Smith POV
The coffee shop window burst outward like a bomb had gone off.
I dove behind my car as glass bits rained down on the street. Through my earpiece, I heard my partner Agent Rodriguez yelling into her radio.
"Base, this is Unit Seven! We have a Code Red magical event! Repeat, Code Red!"
I peeked over the hood of my car. Inside the destroyed coffee shop, a little girl with dark hair was flying three feet off the ground. Her eyes were sparkling silver, and everything around her was moving without being touched. Tables flipped over. Chairs spun in circles. The cash register flew across the room.
"That's her," I whispered into my radio. "That's Emma Stone."
For six months, our government task team had been tracking reports of supernatural activity in small towns across America. Most turned out to be fake. But Pine Ridge was different. The energy readings here were off the charts.
