Burned by Magic (18 page)

I scowled. “Noria, I support the Resistance too but I’ve already had a taste of what it’s like to be a captive criminal, and I don’t like it. I’m much happier on the other side of the table where I get to catch the bad guys, and I can’t do that if I’m a wanted fugitive.”

Brackets formed around the edges of Noria’s mouth. “But what if those bad guys aren’t really bad guys, but just people exercising rights that have been unjustly taken away from them? Like you with your magic?” She jabbed her finger into my chest. “I’ve been thinking about this for a while, and I’m not sure that being an Enforcer is actually a good idea. All I’d be doing is supporting our corrupt regime. When I’m done with college I’m joining the Resistance.”

I bit back a groan at Noria’s defiant look. This is what I got for trying to convince her not to be an Enforcer – an even
worse
career decision.

“Have you spoken to Annia about this? Or your mother?”

“ Annia’s still out of town on a mission.” Noria wrinkled her nose. “But I don’t have to talk to her. I’m old enough to decide for myself.”

“Yes, but I’m sure she’d still want to hear about it.” I laid a hand on her shoulder, gentling my voice. “She’s your sister and she loves you, just like we all do.”

Noria looked away. I sighed, then continued. “Besides, my reluctance to become a criminal isn’t the only reason I’m sticking around. I’ve got to solve these murders. Not to mention that having inside access to the palace will allow me to pass on useful information to Rylan.”

“Oh.” Noria perked right up. “Well, I guess that’s okay then.”

“Still, though,” I amended, my frown returning at the thought of Rylan. “I can’t say that I’m too happy about the Resistance’s methods of, well, resisting.”

Comenius raised his brows. “What do you mean?”

I relayed the conversation I’d heard from the two mages back at the banquet about the terrorist attacks, and by the time I was finished both Comenius
and
Noria were scowling.

“There’s no way that’s true,” Noria insisted, her dark eyes burning.

“At the very least we don’t know the full story,” Comenius declared, ever the conservative. “The mages could have been embellishing their story, or even leaving key things out.”

“Exactly!” Noria planted her hands on her hips. “You can’t trust anything they say.”

“Well, that’s definitely possible.” I paused to consider that, thankful that my thick hair hid the tips of my reddening ears. Was it possible that I was succumbing to the brainwashing effects of the mages’ propaganda? “Still, I can’t completely discount what I heard until I know more.”

“Hmph.” Noria wrinkled her nose. “I think you’ve been doing a little too much listening, and not enough looking.” She returned to her post behind the counter. “I’m going to go do something productive. You should too.”

“Yeah,” I said slowly as Comenius shot me an apologetic look. “I guess you’re right.” It was time to do more looking, that was for sure, and not just on my part. I was going to get the Chief Mage involved with this even if it killed me. It was about time someone other than me did something about this whole mess.

On my way back to Solantha Palace, I stopped by the Shiftertown Cemetery to visit Roanas’s grave. It was located outside the Twenty-First Street Temple, a tall, grey stone building where shifters went to pay their respects to Magorah. I bypassed the temple itself, avoiding the reproachful gazes of the carved animals perched on the corners of the building, and headed to the cemetery in the back.

The cemetery was a wide plot of land that stretched for several acres from the back of the temple. Rows of headstones marked the places where the deceased lay, and I trod lightly over the grass, careful not to step on any flowers or other offerings left for the dead. It didn’t take me long to find Roanas’s grave – it was heaped with offerings from his many Shiftertown admirers, and beneath them lay freshly-turned dirt upon which grass had not yet grown.

I clenched my fist around my own meager offering, a bouquet of dandelions, which I thought a fitting tribute since Roanas had been a lion shifter. I should have been there at the funeral, to say a proper goodbye, to ensure the clerics laid him to rest respectfully and placed a gold coin atop each of his eyelids to pay the Ferryman who would lead him to the afterlife. I should have been there to grieve with his sister, who must have taken a dirigible all the way out from the southwest to see her brother buried. I should have been there to glare holes into my aunt Mafiela and demand that she and the rest of the Council fill Roanas’s shoes with a competent Inspector immediately, one who would pick up where Roanas left off and catch the bastard who was doing all this.

But I hadn’t, because I’d been imprisoned in Solantha Palace due to my own stupidity.

I squeezed my eyelids shut as I dropped to my knees, pressing my forehead to the gravestone. Cool granite rasped against my skin, a stark contrast to the hot tears running down my cheeks. For a long moment I could do nothing except kneel there, my tears dripping on the freshly-tilled earth, a salty offering lost on the body buried six feet beneath. After all, Roanas was no longer in that body to receive them – the tears were more for me, an opportunity to unleash the grief I’d shoved deep into the recesses of my mind since this whole ordeal had started. Tears that I’d not dared show while in the palace, not only because no one would care, but because in enemy territory grief was a luxury I couldn’t afford.

Roanas,
I thought silently, praying my thoughts would reach him in the afterlife.
I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for you. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help you while you were investigating in the first place. Maybe if I had been, I could have helped you solve these murders before the killer caught on to you. Maybe if I hadn’t been so wrapped up in my own problems, you wouldn’t be dead now.

A soft breeze stirred the hair on the nape of my neck and whispered gently in my ear.
There is little point in wishing upon what could have been. Your time is far better spent focusing on what could be, or better yet, what will be.

I chuckled through my tears at the oft-quoted line. I couldn’t say whether or not Roanas had actually spoken to me from beyond the grave, but the words soothed me nonetheless.

“Come to pay your respects?”

My head snapped up at the sound of an unfamiliar male voice. To my right stood a tall man dressed in a long brown leather coat, tight-fitting pants and a pair of boots that looked as though they’d seen a few hundred miles. The breeze tousled his short blond hair, drawing my attention to his raw-boned face. His hawk nose and slightly too-wide mouth pushed him out of the classically handsome category, but he was pleasant enough to look at. There was a certain charm to the way the left corner of his mouth turned up, and his sharp, reddish-yellow shifter eyes commanded attention.

I slowly got to my feet, nose twitching. My hackles rose as I caught his scent – he was a jaguar shifter. Around these parts that could only mean one thing.

“You must be my aunt Mafiela’s latest messenger boy.” I tossed my head, and a sudden gust of wind caught at my hair, streaming the thick black curls out from behind me like a banner. “Did she send you here to taunt me in her stead? Is she so busy she can’t make the time herself?”

The shifter arched a brow. “I am a recent addition to the Baine clan… but no, I’m not the Chieftain’s ‘messenger boy’. I’m Shiftertown Inspector Boon Lakin.”

I froze. The new Shiftertown Inspector? I eyed him up and down again, noting the knives cleverly concealed in his boots. That long coat of his could have many pockets in which to store more weapons and other useful tools…

“Let’s see some I.D. then, Inspector.” I closed the distance between us and held out a hand.

He reached beneath the collar of his coat and pulled out a golden medallion. My heart constricted as I caught sight of the fang symbol stamped into the center, as well as the runes that danced around the edges of the circle – it was the same one Roanas had worn.

“Convinced?”

I stared deep into his eyes. Unlike the other members of my former clan, Inspector Lakin’s eyes held no contempt when he looked at me, and they should have. I was an outsider, an abomination by my aunt Mafiela’s standards, and whatever she said, the rest of the clan followed.

“You’re not from around here, are you?”

Inspector Lakin shook his head. “I’m a transplant from the Jaguar clan in Pardas,” he admitted, referring to a capital city in one of the northwestern states. “I used to be the Inspector up there, but I felt like a change of scenery, and I had a deputy who was more than willing to fill my shoes.”

“Must be nice,” I muttered, shoving my hands into my jacket pockets. If I hadn’t been a hybrid, I would have been the one to fill Roanas’s shoes – I was more than capable between the training that I’d received from him and my experience as an Enforcer. “Fresh start, new life.”

I’d thought about that myself once or twice – just packing up and moving somewhere else where nobody knew who I was. Sure, any shifter with a good nose could still tell I was a hybrid, but not that I was a mage if I didn’t use my magic, and there were states, or at least cities, in the Northia Federation where half-human shifters were welcome. But any chance of that happening was gone now that my magic was public knowledge – my case was unique enough that news of my apprentice status would eventually spread across the country, at least amongst mage circles.

“Yeah.” Inspector Lakin stared at me for a long moment. “I’m sorry for your loss. From what I hear, you two were close.”

I snorted. “You’re not sorry for my loss. You’re just exchanging pleasantries while beating around the bush. Why don’t you tell me the real reason you came here to intrude on me while I’m paying my respects?”

Inspector Lakin’s eyes gleamed. “I see the rumors about you having a smart mouth are true.”

I jutted my chin out. “Yeah? You got a problem with that?”

Lakin only shrugged. “The reason I approached you is because I was going through Roanas’s case files and I noticed that he didn’t seem to have a file regarding these silver poisonings.” His eyes narrowed. “From everything I’ve heard of him, he was good at what he did. I don’t see how he would have forgotten to put a file together.”

“Not really sure what this has to do with me.”

“You were the last one to see Roanas alive.”

“I don’t have his case file.” Not a lie. I sent a mental thank-you to Comenius; I’d left the file at his shop before responding to the emergency call that had gotten me into so much trouble.

“But you know where it is.”

I said nothing.

“You know that I could have you brought before the Council for willfully hiding evidence.” His voice lowered into a dangerous growl. “This isn’t just about Roanas, Miss Baine. This is about getting justice for all the shifters who have died at the hands of this monster, and stopping him from hurting anyone else.”

I laughed bitterly. “I belong to no clan, and I’m a quasi-member of the Mage’s Guild now. I don’t think you actually
can
drag me before the Council.”

Lakin opened his mouth to answer, but the medallion around his neck lit up, bathing his throat in a golden glow.
Emergency reported at 1922 Third Street,
a metallic voice said.
Doctor on scene. Please respond.

Lakin’s face whitened at the same time the blood drained from mine. That was my aunt Mafiela’s house.

He sprinted for the street, where a sleek silver steambike was parked in front of mine. I hesitated for only a second before racing after him. He peeled out into the road with a shrill whistle from the engine, and I followed right after. If this was connected in any way to the silver poisonings, I had to know.