Burned by Magic (22 page)

I
told Comenius
to keep an eye out for Inspector Lakin and give him the case file, and then hustled back to Solantha Palace as fast as I could. The plan was to browbeat the Chief Mage with my findings and demand he grant Noria’s friend amnesty, so that we could get our hands on that evidence. Unfortunately, traffic turned out to be horrendous, so I gave up trying to maneuver my steambike through all the cars and parked in Nob Hill, a hoity-toity area of Rowanville where people strolled the sidewalks wearing fancy togs while oohing and aahing over the objects displayed in boutique windows. I looked out of place in my black pants and leather jacket, stepping around two female humans in brightly colored dresses and wide brimmed hats dripping in jewelry, but since I wasn’t here to see and be seen I ducked into a café and ordered some food.

The place was a lot more cutesy than I liked, done in pastel blue and white with owl decorations scattered everywhere, but the bacon cheeseburger with onion rings sounded good enough, so I ordered, forking over some of the few measly coppers I’d found amongst my delivered belongings. As I sat down at the bar to wait for my grub, I noticed someone had left a copy of the Herald on the counter. It looked like the owner had ditched it, so I slid the paper over to my side of the bar and started flipping through the pages.

SHOULD SHIFTERS BE BANNED FROM MAINTOWN? COUNCIL DEBATES.

I froze as the headline on page three caught my eye. Next to it was a black-and-white photograph of a snarling wolf shifter in human form, his fangs and claws extended. Anger bubbled up inside me as I stared at the photograph – likely it was just some shifter teen who’d been asked to pose for a couple of bucks. Fucking sell-outs. My burger arrived on the counter, and I snatched it up and munched on it, bacon grease coating my fingers as I read.

With the recent slew of shifter-human fighting, the Maintown Council is seriously debating whether or not shifters should continue to be allowed to work and interact with our community. Only yesterday, a raven shifter attacked his boss, hardware shop owner Antano Lopkin, simply for asking him to put a broom away. The crazed shifter, who was later discovered to be under the influence of narcotics, reportedly took the broom and proceeded to shove…

I skimmed over the next couple of paragraphs detailing all the recent drug-fueled crimes committed by shifters, knowing that I was liable to start shredding the paper with my claws if I started reading them.

Some have suggested that new shifter drugs hitting the black market are responsible for these outbreaks, rather than the shifters themselves. However, experts suggest that these drugs are merely exposing the inherent weakness of the shifter psyche. It has long been known that shifters are emotionally unstable, hardly surprising when one considers that they originated as a hybrid species several thousand years ago. If this weren’t the case, human crime would be skyrocketing in relation to the amount of drug trafficking as well.

I raked my claws through the paper, furious beyond belief at the writer’s audacity. Human drug addicts committed plenty of crimes while under the influence! I’d dealt with dozens of strung-out addicts during my time as an Enforcer, and knew from experience that these bastards would do anything, and I mean
anything
, for a hit when they were hard up for drugs. This wasn’t reporting at all, but a hit piece. Whoever had written this article was intentionally trying to paint shifters in a negative light.

I scanned the shredded article for the byline, which had miraculously survived my claws. A tick started in my jaw as I recognized the name – Hanley Fintz. The same reporter who had tried to interview me in my cell the night before my hearing. The man who’d told me he was sympathetic to shifters and would try to paint me in a positive light.

Apparently he’d lied.

Two human guards jerked to attention as I strode through the revolving door of the Herald’s offices – a large circular white building in the heart of Maintown. Ignoring them, I made a beeline for the white reception desk that stood in the middle of the gleaming white lobby, and slapped my hand down on the counter to get the attention of the curly-haired brunette manning the desk.

Not that I really needed to get her attention – her wide-eyed gaze had been on me the moment I walked through the door.

“C-can I help you?” she stuttered, her oval face pale. Clearly she wasn’t used to seeing shifters in the office much – that, or she was worried that we were all going to come and riot right here in the Herald because of all the shitty propaganda they’d been writing against us.

“You sure can.” I gave her a gamine grin, resisting the urge to show some fang – the guards’ hands were already too close to their swords, and I didn’t need some reporter snapping a picture of me brawling right here in the Herald’s office. “I’m here to see Hanley Fintz.”

“I see.” The receptionist’s plump lips thinned, as if I’d confirmed her suspicions. “I’m afraid he’s not taking any visitors right now –”

“He’ll see me.” I held up my wrist so the woman could see my Enforcer bracelet. “This is regarding an investigation.”

The woman’s face whitened even more as she leaned closer to inspect the bronze shield on my wrist. As she did, my nerves began to itch – I didn’t know how smart it was for me to barge in here by myself, with no backup. As soon as I’d realized that Fintz must be connected to all this bullshit, I’d rushed over right away, wanting to catch the bastard before he left his office.

“Very well,” the receptionist finally said in a clipped voice. She settled back into her chair and pointed to a hallway on my right. “His office is upstairs, five doors down from the elevator. Gerod will escort you.” She nodded to one of the guards, who stepped forward, pinning me with an intimidating glare.

I shrugged, refusing to let a mere human guard bother me. “Fine. Lead the way.”

The elevators, like everything else in this building, were white, with white flooring and walls, and the black call buttons stood out. I rode up to the second floor, then strode down a white-carpeted hallway to the sixth office door, my new pet guard in tow.

I didn’t knock or ask for entry. I just kicked the door open and strode in, ignoring the protesting voice of the guard behind me.

Hanley Fintz was hunched over the typewriter on his desk, no doubt clacking out another slanderous article. He jumped as the door banged against a metal filing cabinet. “What is the meaning of this!” he shouted, his eyes rounding behind his spectacles. Without his large slicker draped over his spindly frame, he looked distinctly unimpressive in his shirtsleeves and slacks.

“I’m here to interrogate you, you slime.” I bared my fangs, fury taking hold as I grabbed him by his flimsy collar.

“Guards!” Fintz squeaked, and the guard who’d accompanied me grabbed my arm.

“Ma’am,” he said sternly, hauling me back. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to leave –”

I whirled around, using the momentum from his own grip, and slammed my knee into his midsection, hard. The guard crumpled against me with a painful gasp and I let him fall to the floor, then shoved him aside so that anybody passing by wouldn’t be able to see him.

Sure, that might’ve been a little harsher than warranted, but I wasn’t feeling too chummy toward Privacy Guard employees these days.

“There.” I turned back to the reporter, who was quivering in the corner, his back pressed up between two metal bookshelves. “Now, Fintz, you’re going to be a good boy and tell me the truth. Who’s been bribing you?”

“W-what?” His cheeks colored, his eyes narrowing despite his quivering fear. “Nobody! I’m employed by the Herald, just doing my job. Did you really barge into my office and injure a guard just to ask me that?”

“You’re going to have to do a lot better than that.” I snagged him by the collar again and drew him close until we were nose to nose, and bit back a grimace at the acrid stench of fear. “I want to know who’s paying you to write these nasty propaganda articles about shifters.”

“It isn’t propaganda!” Fintz protested, sweat rolling down the sides of his narrow face. His clammy hands pawed ineffectually at my grasp. “What I reported in that article is completely true! You shifters are an emotional and unstable lot! Just look at you! Manhandling me like some kind of wild animal –”

I slammed him into the bookshelf, knocking down several volumes. One of them bounced off the top of his head, and he yelped. “Cut the crap, Fintz.” I kept my voice even. “I’ve been looking at the papers, and the Herald has been using its influence to pit humans and shifters against each other. Tell me, right now, who’s been paying you off for that, and you might not have to spend the rest of the night lounging in the same jail cell that I did.”

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Fintz’s lower lip wobbled. “Mr. Yantz tells me what to write! He’s my boss!”

“I’m afraid he’s correct, Miss Baine.” The door opened, and Petros Yantz, the Editor-in-Chief of the Herald, strolled in. A tall man with glossy chestnut hair dressed in a sleek, three-piece suit, he was slicker than a puddle of grease, and flashed me a charming smile, ignoring the guard on the floor. “I am the one who ordered those articles. We have to make a living here, and this kind of stuff is pretty sensational.”

“Sensational!” I let go of Fintz and spun toward Yantz. My nose told me that both men were telling the truth… but my gut told me there was still something terribly wrong about all of this. “Your articles are doing more than creating a sensation, Mr. Yantz.”

He arched his brows. “Perhaps instead of terrorizing my poor reporter, you can come with me to my office,” he suggested. “You’re more than welcome to interrogate me all you like.”

I crossed my arms. “Just like that?”

Yantz shrugged. “I’m not aware that printing news is considered a crime.”

Oh, I’ll bet I can dig up something connected to you that
is
a crime,
I thought, but I just gave him a gimlet stare.

“Well? Are you coming?”

I hesitated, feeling this was all way too easy. But I had questions, and he was my best shot at answers. “Fine,” I said, stepping forward. “But no bullshit. I’ll know if you’re lying.”

“Of course not,” he said smoothly. “I assure you I know better than to lie to you.”

“Wait, Miss Baine.”

I turned at the sound of Fintz’s voice. “What is it?” I asked, and that’s when Yantz grabbed my wrist.

I gasped as a needle plunged into my wrist and pain spiked through my arm. I whirled back to face Yantz, yanking my arm away as fast as I could, but not before he’d hit the plunger and sent whatever murky liquid was in there shooting into my veins. A strange, giddy sensation washed over me, and I sank to my knees as the room began to rock. I barely felt the pair of strong, meaty hands that hooked beneath my upper arms, and simply stared at the colors of the room swirling together, until all I could see was blackness.

W
hen I came to,
the first thing I was aware of was a terrible burning pain, as if someone had pulled irons directly from a forge and clamped them on my wrists. My head throbbed, and my mouth tasted like someone had tried to pour a concoction of vomit and bile down my throat.

What made me open my eyes, however, was the scent of two humans, one of whom I fully expected to be there; the other one, not so much.

I expected to find myself in some dingy basement with a light bulb hovering over my head. Instead, I was sitting in a circle of sofas and chairs in a well-appointed parlor room. Seated across from me, in two separate chairs, were Yantz and Deputy Talcon. The former sat upright, looking grave as if I were a naughty student, and the latter sprawled in his chair, the smug grin on his face resembling a class bully.

“
Miss Baine,” Yantz said, leaning forward. He’d draped his suit jacket across the back of his chair, and his cufflinks glinted beneath the chandelier’s light as he rested his hands on his knees. “How nice of you to rejoin us. For a moment I thought I’d given you too much of the drug.”

I gritted my teeth. “What the fuck did you pump into my veins?”

Yantz sat back and waved his hand airily. “Oh, just a hefty dose of liquamine,” he said, referring to an anesthetic that human veterinarians used on their pets. “Nothing your system can’t handle.”

“Yeah, except that you laced it with kalois and silver, didn’t you?” I snarled, leaning forward so I could shove my face into his. But the manacles clamped around my wrists bit into my skin, nearly blinding me with burning pain. I drew back hastily, trying to relieve the agony.

“Ah, yes, those silver manacles do hurt, don’t they?” Yantz arched a dark brow, completely unsympathetic to my plight. “You know, if you didn’t know so much this wouldn’t be necessary. But that you’ve already figured out the compound we’re lacing the drugs with proves you’re far too dangerous to be allowed to run free. Tell me, how
did
you figure it out?”

“Fuck you.” With no other form of retaliation, I spat in his face.

Yantz recoiled, as I expected, but I didn’t have time to gloat because Talcon rose from his chair and punched me straight in the mouth. Pain exploded through my face as I rocked back, and I cried out as the silver manacles bit into my skin again. The smell of burning flesh laced the air, along with the coppery scent of the blood gushing out of my split lip and down my chin.

“Oh, I knew I was going to have fun when Yantz invited me to
this
party.” Talcon grinned down at me, and for the first time ever, the sight of his hulking form sent a tremor of fear through me. “I’d suggest you answer his questions, Baine. Or else things are gonna get real painful for you, real fast.”

“Oh yeah, like things are going swell right now.” I glared up at him. “I always knew you were scum, Talcon, but I never expected you to sink this low. You’re an Enforcer, for Magorah’s sake.”

Talcon shrugged. “Yeah, well our boss’s pockets are a lot deeper than the Guild’s,” he said. “The Benefactor pays us well to turn a blind eye.”

“The Benefactor?” I echoed, disbelief flooding through me. “Who the fuck is that?”

“Ah, so you haven’t gotten that far,” Yantz said. His dark eyes glittered coldly as he regarded me.

I bared my fangs at him, trying my best to ignore the pain and sickness ravaging my senses. “I would have, in time.”

Yantz nodded. “I’m well aware of that. Which is why you’re in chains. The Benefactor has big plans for the future of this country, and we can’t allow you to get in the way.”

This country?
That
sounded a lot bigger than just Solantha. “What kind of plan involves drugging and killing shifters?”

Yantz nodded to Talcon, who delivered another blow to my face. This one I expected, so only my head snapped back. Pain radiated from my cheekbone, and I hoped to Magorah the crack I’d heard was just my neck popping and not a broken bone.

“I ask the questions around here, not you,” Yantz said, his voice soft. “Now tell me, how did you find out about the compound?”

“I paid some Academy student to analyze it,” I half-lied, and spat out a mouthful of blood. Flecks of dark red spattered across Yantz’s shiny black shoes and the thick carpet. “Hope that doesn’t stain.”

Talcon reared back to hit me again, but Yantz held up a hand. “You’ll kill her if you keep hitting her in the head, Garius.”

Talcon’s eyes glittered maliciously down at me, his fist still poised to strike. “I’ve known this bitch for a long time, Petros. She’s pretty hard headed.”

“Nevertheless, stand down for now.” Yantz waited until Talcon reluctantly lowered his arm before turning his gaze back to me. “An Academy student, you say? Which one?”

I lifted my bloody chin. “I’ll answer your questions if you answer mine.”

Yantz’s eyes narrowed. “And why would I want to do that?”

I shrugged, and immediately regretted it as more pain lanced through my wrists. “I’m pretty good at putting up with pain, and since you guys are going to kill me anyway, torture isn’t much of an incentive to get me to talk. If you want answers, you’re going to have to give me some first.”

“Let’s just kill her,” Talcon growled, but Yantz leaned back in his chair, stroking his clean-shaven chin with his manicured fingers.

“I can’t imagine any information I’d give you will be much use to you beyond the grave.”

Maybe not, but this conversation was buying me time – time that I was using to heat the shackles around my wrists with tiny flames. I couldn’t use larger flames or they would notice, but if I did this a little bit at a time the silver would eventually melt and fall off.

“Let’s just say it’ll give me closure.” My gaze flickered back and forth between the two of them. “Why don’t you start by telling me why you killed Roanas Tillmore.” I couldn’t die without at least learning
that
.

Yantz laughed. “Of all the questions you might pick, you ask the most obvious one?” He regarded me with a mixture of amusement and disdain. “I had Tillmore killed for the same reason I’m having you killed now. He was asking too many questions, following the trail of the shifter deaths.”

Rage boiled in my gut at the way he dismissed my mentor’s life so casually. I channeled the fury into my magic, knowing it would do no good to direct it toward Yantz just now.

“Why were you going after those shifters?” I challenged.

“Ah, ah, ah.” Yantz wagged a finger. “It’s my turn to ask the next question. Who is the Academy student who helped you figure out the compound?”

I opened my mouth to answer, but just then the silver around my wrists softened, coming into contact with my skin. I clamped my jaw shut on a shriek as the white-hot metal seared my skin, and blinked my watering eyes.

Yantz’s eyes narrowed. “Why do I smell burning flesh?”

“It’s the silver –” Talcon began, but the cuffs had softened enough to break free, and I wasn’t going to waste time. A surge of adrenaline whipped through me, and I kicked my legs wide. The chair legs snapped from the seat, not quite clearing it, but enough for me to launch myself at Yantz, my claws extended.

“Stop her!” Yantz shrieked, throwing himself back in his chair. He skidded across the room as I landed on my stomach, but before I could scramble to my feet Talcon tackled me. I grunted as the weight of his heavy body crushed me into the carpet.

“I’ve got you now, bitch.” He panted heavily in my ear as I squirmed beneath him. Something hard pressed against my ass, and I gasped. “You’re mine.”

“You sick fuck!” I bucked beneath him, disgust rippling through me. The motion created just enough space for me to bring my knee up and wedge it beneath my torso. He grunted as he tried to squash me back into the ground, but the new position had thrown him off balance, and I was able to twist around beneath him so that my back was on the ground.

“Oh, so you like missionary?” He drew back his arm to punch me again, but I whipped my head to the side and his fist sank into the carpet instead. “Hold still, you bitch, so I can give it to you the way you like it!”

“I’m a feline, not a bitch,” I hissed, and then I reared up and sank my fangs into his neck. A roar echoed from Talcon’s throat, and his fist slammed into my head, over and over, trying to get me to let go. But I held on, my jaws clamped around his neck as firmly as a bulldog’s. He would weaken eventually; he had to, or I was done.

“Sunaya!” A door crashed open, and the sound of running footsteps followed. The Enforcer’s Guild must’ve hired someone new, because whoever it was sounded a hell of a lot like Iannis. Whoever it was though, I would never know, because Talcon’s fist smashed into my head again. The blow was weaker than the last, but it was one hit too many, and I fell into the darkness.