Trace of Magic (13 page)

It was signed with just a J. I turned the page over. Nothing on the back. I read it again. My stomach sank down in my shoes. Josh knew what I could do. Taylor wouldn’t have told him, but he’d figured it out. We’d probably left clues we didn’t even know about, and he wasn’t stupid. Not even a little bit. Luckily someone reading the note could just assume he thought I was better than I was. At least I hoped so. I had no hope of hiding the letter from Price.

I pulled the box onto my lap. As soon as I touched it, the light went out.

“Curiouser and curiouser,” I muttered. I wondered where Josh had hidden the key. Or maybe he hadn’t had the chance.

I untied the little burlap sack and pulled out a tin cylinder. I set it on the desk. It was followed by a wooden box about six inches long and three inches square on the ends. Next I pulled out an opaque purple glass bulb.

I set it down, feeling myself starting to shake. I recognized it. It belonged to my mother. She’d hung it from a ribbon in our kitchen window. I remember watching the light hit it and wondering what it hid inside. I once got it down, rattling it near my ear to figure out what the shadowy shape was under the glass. My mother had caught me and taken it away. I remember she’d had a look like I’d been playing with a rattlesnake. I never saw it again after that. Not until now.

I turned it in my fingers, then set it down, taking a deep breath, collecting myself. There was more to see. But deep in my heart, a spark of excitement flickered into a tiny flame. Was I finally on to something that could tell me who killed my mother?

Next were a half-dozen ziplock bags. Four contained napkins or Kleenexes. One held a button, and inside the last was a piece of gum. On the outside of the bags were written different names in black Sharpie. I felt the air vanish from my lungs as I read them: Ostrander, Drummond, Briandi, Morrell, Pajarien, and Touray. All of them were known to be major players in the Tyet.

Without thinking, I grabbed them in a handful and stuffed them into my pocket. Price didn’t need to know who was involved, especially since Touray was his boss.

“What did the letter say?” Price walked back in without any warning.

My head jerked up. Had he seen? He didn’t say anything about the baggies, so maybe not. Or maybe he was waiting to see what I would do. Once again my hands started to shake. See what I mean? Not cut out to be a burglar or a criminal at all. Too fucking jumpy. I took another breath to steady myself, then shoved the note toward him. “See for yourself.”

While he read, I looked into the bag again. At the bottom was a blue velvet pouch and another paper folded in half. I pulled the latter out. It was another list of names and numbers with arrows and circles connecting them. On one side and underlined twice was Corbin Nader. An arrow pointed from him to Barney Stills to Caroline Moretenson to Barry Klein to Shana Darlington to a circle with three question marks in it. I passed the page to Price.

“Recognize anybody?”

He scanned it and frowned. “Shana Darlington is my missing woman.”

“Looks like her fiancé is right. She didn’t vanish on her own.”

“Ex-fiancé,” he corrected absently. “Or she did. Maybe she was part of the fraud and was spooked by Josh’s investigation. What did he mean that he knows about you?”

The last question thrust quiet and swift, like a knife blade between the ribs. I’d been expecting it. “Maybe Taylor made me sound a lot better than I am. Who knows?”

Price didn’t look like he bought it, but he didn’t push. Now. He wasn’t the type to give up before he got his answers.

“Clearly we need to find Nader, and hope he leads us to Shana Darlington. She may just know where Josh is. Anything else in the box?”

“Just this.” I pulled out the pouch and set it on the desk with the other items, then put the box and the burlap bag on the floor.

He picked up the four objects one by one and turned them over in his fingers. “What do you think they are?”

“Only one way to find out.”

“He booby-trapped that box. Probably did the same to these. For a guy who wants your help, he seemed to be making a point of killing you.”

“My fault. I should have activated a null just in case.”

He snorted, his eyes narrowing at me. I could see his mind clicking behind the sapphire. “You aren’t strong enough to have nullified that spell.”

“I’d have softened the blow. No pain, no gain, right?”

He rubbed his chin and came around the front of the desk. He pulled open the bottom left drawer, his hip brushing against my arm. I scooted away. I could not trust Price, and I was in serious danger of letting myself forget that.

Inside the drawer were several boxes, all upended in neat rows and labeled. He drew one out and flipped it open. It contained a variety of what looked like blown glass paperweights. He pulled one out and slid the box back into its drawer slot. He held it in his fist, and after a moment I felt the null activate.

“Handy. Working for the Tyet must be nice.”

A muscle in the side of his jaw jumped as he thunked the null down on top of the desk. It made a dent in the wood. “Don’t get high and mighty all of a sudden. It comes with certain perks. One of which healed that bullet wound of yours.”

“Tell them thanks for me,” I said acidly. “You know, since they are also responsible for shooting me in the first place. Speaking of the Tyet, are you going to tell me what that phone call was about?”

“Nothing to do with you.”

“Of course not,” I said. “Why ever would you lie about that?” I couldn’t turn off the sarcasm or the hurt I felt. He was right. I knew exactly who and what he was, and I’d jumped into bed with him anyway. I only had myself to blame if I couldn’t keep a handle on my feelings. I just needed to stop thinking about it. “All right then, let’s unwrap the presents, shall we?”

I reached for the blue pouch first. I untied it and felt a swell of magic that dissolved as fast as it formed. The green swirl center of the paperweight glowed as it absorbed the power. Flashy. Then again I suppose it was useful for someone who couldn’t feel magic to know a spell had been absorbed.

“I don’t know that Josh liked you much,” Price said, watching me with folded arms. He looked like he wanted to punch someone. Probably me. “He sure seems to be intent on frying your ass.”

I didn’t bother answering. After loosening the tie on the pouch, I upended the contents into my hand. A vial of red liquid fell into my hand. Blood. It had to be. But whose? And what was I supposed to do with it?”

“What the hell?” Price said, leaning over to get a better look.

I held up the little bottle, turning it in my fingers. There was no label. It was made of an old-fashioned bubbled glass wrapped in copper filigree and was stoppered with a cork and a red coating of sealing wax. The copper was tarnished green with age.

“Who’s blood is this and how did Josh get it?” I wondered. “It looks really ancient.”

“A lot of powerful magic can be worked with blood.”

“True, but the person who made this has to be dead. I mean, the bottle’s got to be a hundred years old or more.” I squinted at the wax. “There’s an impression on the top. Like a letter, but unintelligible.” I passed it to Price to see if he could make it out.

He put it under the lamp, then shook his head. “I can’t tell what it is.” He set it aside. “Let’s look at the other stuff. See if they tell us anything.”

“Be my guest,” I said, waving at the three containers.

He picked up the tin cylinder and unscrewed the end. Once again, the null flared. A silent whine ran through my bones. The null was rapidly reaching capacity. Price tipped the cylinder over and slid the contents out onto the desk.

It looked like an ugly piece of abstract art. It was about five inches long and carved from a big hunk of turquoise. It was dully rounded on one end with what appeared to be a flat flower on the other end, if the flower’s petals were nails. Connecting the two ends were three interwoven strips carved in varying shapes. One looked like a teetering stack of cubes, the second looked like knotted string, and the third was knobby.

“Don’t have a clue,” Price said, bending down to examine it more closely, but careful not to touch. He shook his head. “Let’s see what else there is.”

The top of the wooden box slid back as Price opened it. Magic surged, and the null flared and cracked in half. He dropped the box and shook his hand. “Shit. That hurt.”

“You’re going to need another null.”

“Thank you, Miss Obvious.”

“Always glad to be helpful. Lucky you have plenty.” My voice was carefully neutral.

He gave me a sharp look and then finished removing the lid. Nestled inside was a long, thin piece of metal covered in silver whiskers. They shifted and moved like they were underwater.

Though I knew better, I couldn’t resist brushing the fringe softly with my finger. The fine strands combed through my skin and blood welled and dripped. The metal piece convulsed and strands of silver shot out to capture my hand. I jerked back, barely in time. The box shook violently. Price grabbed the lid and pressed it down, holding it in place until the shaking stopped. Quickly he slid it back into the grooves and clicked it closed.

Blood was running pretty freely down my finger. I grabbed the washcloth he’d used to clean me up earlier and pressed it hard against my finger.

“That was unexpected,” I said. “Wonder what would have happened if it grabbed me?”

“I expect it would have torn you up like a wood chipper,” Price said. “I was wondering why you kept a blood null with you. Now I’m wondering why you don’t have more of them.” His eyes were hooded and grooves dug deep into the side of his nose and lips.

I ignored the jibe. “What do you think it’s for?” I asked, jerking my chin at the box.

“I wish I knew.”

Him and me both. I had to wonder if he knew more than he was saying, but it wasn’t like he had his finger on the pulse of the Tyet big shots. He was an enforcer, making him the middle-class of the Tyet. The truth was that it would be more surprising if he
did
know something. “What about that last one?”

He spun the purple bulb around on the desktop. “There’s no lid. We’ll have to break the glass. That could trigger something unpleasant.”

“You’ve got more nulls.” My throat closed on the words as I watched the bulb. It was the only thing I’d ever had of my mom. The idea of breaking it hurt more than I can say. At the same time, it was a clue for finding Josh, and maybe for finding who’d killed my mother. I steeled myself.

Price pulled another paperweight null out of his collection. This one was orange with little blue bubbles throughout. I reached for the purple bulb.

“Oh, no you don’t. You’ve bled enough today.” He snatched the purple bulb out of reach when I tried to take it, then picked up the pliers and gently tapped the glass. Nothing happened. He hit harder, and there was a cracking sound. Magic flared and dissolved. The blue bubbles in the null glowed neon. Pretty. Someone was artistic. I couldn’t have done that. I could make a hell of a null, but I didn’t know how to light it up. Maybe the tracer who’d made it had some help. A binder maybe.

Price continued breaking away the glass until a tarnished brass object was revealed. It looked a lot like an oversized wing nut, except instead of mouse ears, it had butterfly wings and in the middle it wasn’t a nut, but a hollow cylinder. I thought it was hollow, but when Price picked it up with the pliers and twisted and turned it in the air, I realized the tube was filled with shimmering crystals.

“Let me see.” I held out my hand for the pliers, but Price waved me away, moving closer so I could better examine it.

I turned on the desk lamp and looked closer. “What’s in the tube?” I asked finally. It was almost like they were only half there, ghosting in and out of being.

“I don’t know. They look like diamonds. Maybe opals.”

“What do you make of the way they keep fading and rippling in and out?”

His brows winged down. “What do you mean?”

“You can’t see it, can you?”

He eyed me speculatively. “No. Is it some sort of trace?”

I shook my head. He couldn’t pin this on me being a brilliant tracer. “I’m not looking for trace.” I shook my head in real bewilderment. I don’t usually see magic. I can feel it, but not see it unless I open myself to the trace. I rubbed my forehead. I was finding more questions and no answers in Josh’s box.

“Does your head hurt? I could get you something for it. You whacked it pretty hard on the window.”

In fact it did hurt like hell. “That would be great. Maybe a Band-Aid, too,” I said with weak smile, holding up my washcloth-wrapped finger.

He left and soon returned with a bottle of water, two ibuprofen, and a Band-Aid. I swallowed the pills and let him apply the Band-Aid. Neither one of us spoke. My mind was spinning. The next obvious step was to go look for Nader. But I still had the six baggies in my pocket. What should I do with them? Did I track them down? When? I was stuck with Price. And if I did want to, their trace wouldn’t be simple to pick up. They all probably used personal nulls with regularity. I needed to go a traditional route, which meant relying on Price, the professional detective.

I stared down at my lap, thinking hard. Did I dare trust him? God, I was so far up the creek, I’d left the planet. Everything in me said don’t risk it.

But if I didn’t find Josh, Taylor would be heartbroken. I’d never forgive myself. My only choices were to escape from Price, somehow track down Josh, and try to free him, which, after the Nancy Jane incident, didn’t seem too easy. Or I could lean on Price and hope to hell he would do what he said and help me rescue Josh and not just turn me over to his boss.

I reached out and touched the letter Josh had written to me. I opened to the trace. A ribbon of silvery red light fell in coils and spun away through the wall. It pulsed with a vibrancy that said he was alive.