Mind Games (15 page)

I headed for my purse, freeing the cell phone from the side pocket. A few seconds later, I had my mom on the line. “Mom, what do you know about Larry Jackson?”

She sighed, audibly. “I assume he’s one of Alexander’s men. They’ve been all over town, although they haven’t been out here yet.”

“He wants an invitation,” I said, getting straight to the point.

“Did he swear on his honor?”

“Um, yes, but I don’t know what it means.”

“It’s one of Alexander’s new magical initiatives… kind of hard to explain, but if he swore on his honor, then he won’t hurt you. Now, whether or not you want to buy into this plan of theirs… your father is trying to organize a counter-movement.”

“What do you think of magical unification?” I asked.

Mom fell silent for a minute. “I don’t know. I think it’s easy not to want change when things are basically working for you, you know? But I’ve seen the worst the magical world has to offer and frankly, I got lucky.”

I knew that all too well, since I’d spent some time in her head a few weeks earlier, learning about how a magical slave trader had stolen her magic and sold her as breeding stock. “I’ll let you know how it goes. Bye, Mom.”

After hanging up, I slid the phone into my pocket and opened the door. Larry stood there patiently, looking for all the world as if no time had passed.

“Thank you.” Larry smiled and stepped across the threshold.

“I, um, guess we ought to give you some privacy,” Kaitlin said, though she clearly didn’t want to leave.

Madison nodded and stood, but Larry wrinkled his brow in confusion and took a small notebook out of his pocket. “I have two names on my list.”

“Two?” Kaitlin shifted a quizzical gaze to her still fairly flat abdomen, before lifting it to Madison. I knew what she was thinking: Which would warrant an invitation, a magical pregnancy or a strong singing gift?

“Yes.” Larry flipped through a few pages. “Hang on. Which of you is Madison Carter?”

Madison lifted her hand slightly in acknowledgment.

“And Kaitlin Meyer?” Larry continued.

Kaitlin blinked a few times, nodding her head in acknowledgment. “What about Cassie?”

Larry glanced at me, but I already knew the answer to Kaitlin’s question. I’d always hovered in the gray area between worlds, not quite belonging to either one. I had no magic, no gift, and no claim to speak at a conclave either for or against magical unification. If they unified, it would be without me.

“Cassandra Scot,” Kaitlin said, as if the clarification would help.

Larry continued flipping pages. “I have a few Scots on the list – Edward, Sheila, Nicholas, John, Leslie, Kyle…”

“Stop!” I didn’t need him to get into third and fourth cousins to get the point.

“But–” Kaitlin stopped. “This doesn’t make any sense. Cassie’s the one who protected the house. Neither Madison nor I knew how to do that.”

Another day, I might have reminded her that details like that should remain a secret, but on that day, I had a secret of my own. I might have planted the magical plants and herbs, arranged the crystals, and carved the runes, but Nicolas had siphoned the magical energy into the runes and crystals that provided at least 75% of our protection. His weekly visits weren’t just social, either. They kept the protections running hot.

Larry cleared his throat. “You can petition Mr. DuPris, Mr. Lake or their local representative, Evan Blackwood, for an invitation if you feel you have some stake in the meeting. But generally, invitations have been limited to those with at least nominal magical talent, a moderate to strong gift, or to those with an unborn or minor child with such a talent or gift.”

I managed to keep a straight face, despite the double punch to the gut of learning that Evan Blackwood had been the one to fail to issue me an invitation.

“Cassie, this isn’t right.” Kaitlin, who had far less experience hiding her feelings, looked like I felt.

I shrugged. “It’s no big deal. It really doesn’t have anything to do with me anyway, does it? I’ll just go hide in my bedroom until you’re all done here.”

Kaitlin grabbed me by the arm as I tried to pass. “We won’t understand half of what he’s talking about.”

“It’s quite simple,” I assured her, though it wasn’t. “This Alexander DuPris is interested in creating a governing body for sorcerers which would create and enforce laws. I’m sure he’ll tell you all about it in his sales pitch.”

“But your family is against it, aren’t they?” Kaitlin asked. “Why?”

Larry cleared his throat. “It’s more than that. We also need to establish rules about revealing ourselves to outsiders and attempt to maintain secrecy, both for our protection and for others’.” He looked at me, meaningfully.

“Put those daggers back in your eyes, I’m going.” I started to move, but once again Kaitlin grabbed my arm.

“But why don’t your parents want a magical government? Isn’t the alternative anarchy?”

“Not exactly. There have usually been local magical governments controlled by the most powerful sorcerers, especially in big cities. Eagle Rock is a bit unique. It initially attracted sorcerers who wanted nothing so much as to be left alone and for the most part, they’ve stuck to that. A few families outshine the rest and have extended local protection to weaker members of the community. That’s why we don’t have a flourishing slave trade here, despite the number of people living here with talent strong enough to make them attractive targets but nominal enough to prevent them from caring for themselves.”

Kaitlin seemed to be suffering from information overload, but Madison’s eyes shone with interest. “What about the McClellans? No one has shut them down.”

“That’s because they don’t prey on locals, they just have their shop here. There are limits to how involved in others’ personal lives the locals will go, since independence is largely why they came here in the first place. Besides, the McClellans are also a powerful family, which makes interference costly.”

Madison frowned and a second later, so did I. “Of course, David is dead now…” Had he crossed that line, as Pat Malloren had suggested?

Larry cleared his throat. “Am I even here?”

“Sh,” I said, waving a hand at him. “I’m trying to think.” But the moment was over. Whatever glimmer of an idea I’d had was gone now. “Oh, forget it.”

“If you’re done explaining my purpose in coming here, perhaps I can have a go at it?” Larry asked. “And by all means, stay and listen, since you seem to know more about it than I do.”

“What happened to keeping secrets?” I gave him a malicious smile.

“Clearly, the only way to keep secrets from you is to do a full mind wipe.” Larry narrowed his eyes. “I’ll have to tell Alexander about you, of course.”

If he intended to scare me with that threat, it missed its mark by a mile. “Of course. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I really am going to go to bed.”

I
T ISN’T AS IF I HAVEN’T
been left out of magical doings before. For the most part as I grew up, my parents let me sit in on whichever magical classes I liked, but from time to time they closed the door and forbad me to participate. No, I don’t know why, although I think one such time had to do with this swirling vortex they keep in the lab.

So I didn’t really care that no one saw fit to invite me to some gathering of magical townsfolk. It wasn’t as if I could have participated in a meaningful way, not truly being a part of their world. It’s like I had been trying to tell everyone for three years, ever since the day I overheard my parents openly questioning my place in the family. I’m not a witch. I’m just Cassie Scot, normal detective.

Except a few weeks ago, Evan had made me believe, for however brief a period, that I might be a little bit more.

But so what if I’d killed vampires and helped take down a pair of magical slave traders? It didn’t make me a part of that world. It didn’t even make me want to be a part of that world.

Oh all right, so maybe they managed to step on my feelings a little bit.

I tossed and turned for several hours until I remembered the potion for dreamless sleep that I’d brewed the night before. Mom had stopped by that morning to add the final magical flourish, so all I had to do was drink it and hope.

Within seconds, I fell asleep.

* * *

The mob crackled with nearly visible anger as I walked through the picket line to the station on Friday morning. Pastor Roberts had returned, along with the mayor, and all three were talking in raised voices that tested the soundproof quality of the sheriff’s office.

“What’s going on?” I asked Jane, the first person I ran across.

“Fire Chief’s report came in,” she said in a hushed voice. “No sign of accelerants, indeterminate cause… Basically, he has no idea how it started or why it spread so quickly. And from the sounds of it, the pastor has a few ideas of his own.”

“Great.” I remembered the accusations they’d hurled at my brother, whose only crime had been trying to save Sarah Roberts’s life.

Wesley waited at my desk with a cup of herbal tea, which I took gratefully. “It’s your case,” I told him. “Good luck.”

He glanced at the sheriff’s door. “I think he’s trying to talk the pastor into having you work on it, too.”

I nearly choked on a mouthful of searing hot liquid. “Why?”

Wesley raised an inquisitive eyebrow at me. “Don’t you want in? Yesterday you were kind of ticked off that they wanted you out.”

True, but that was before the fire chief’s report pointed a flashing red arrow at magic users, especially Nicolas. I had a feeling that politics would play more of a role in this investigation than sense or skill would, and besides, I didn’t want to face any sorcerers after last night’s blatant exclusion. It had reminded me of a truth I’d known all along but had nearly forgotten – the magic users own this town. Everyone else is simply tolerated, and that includes me.

The pastor stalked out of the sheriff’s office and shot an evil look my way before heading briskly out the door. James Blair left a minute later, looking remarkably relaxed.

“Cassie! Wesley!” The sheriff bellowed from his office.

We didn’t waste any time responding to his summons. A minute later we were seated in his hard-backed wooden chairs with the office door firmly closed.

The sheriff took off his hat and ran his hand through his thick brown hair. A few months ago he had been all but bald, but thanks to something Evan had done to shock him out of a love spell, it now grew in thick waves. He did have to dye it regularly to keep the bright pink roots from showing, but at least he had hair. Unfortunately, it didn’t look as if he had kept up with his coloring schedule, because a hint of pink showed at the roots. “I assume you’ve heard the station gossip by now?”

We both nodded.

He slid over a yellow folder. “Here’s the details, for what it’s worth. Although I think the summary pretty much has it right. The bottom line is that the good pastor thinks someone did this in retaliation for his…” the sheriff’s lips twitched “…sermons of love and redemption.”

“Is that what he called them?” I asked dryly.

“What do you think?” Wesley asked.

Sheriff Adams rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Honestly? I think he’s probably right, but my opinion doesn’t leave this room. Thinking magic was involved doesn’t narrow it down much because there are hundreds of suspects that we know about.” He looked at me, levelly. “You probably know even more.”

“A few are closeted,” I admitted, “but don’t expect me to betray any confidences until and unless I become convinced of someone’s guilt.”

“Of course, but I should warn you – the fire chief thinks he knows who did it.”

I looked into his eyes for a moment. “Nicolas?”

He nodded, once.

“It wasn’t Nicolas! The Chief’s had it out for him for years now. It got worse when Nicolas wormed his way into the training program. Kicking him out apparently wasn’t good enough.”

“Your loyalty to your brother is admirable,” Sheriff Adams said. “And my gut tells me you’re right, but right now your family’s lack of subtlety is working against them. At least ten percent of this town has seen your brother juggle fireballs, including me.”

I shook my head, but not in negation. The sheriff was only telling the truth, but it didn’t mean I wanted to hear it. A slight pressure on my arm startled me back to the moment and when I looked down, Wesley had his hand on my forearm in an overly familiar manner. Quickly, I snatched it away.

“Assuming that I buy into any of this,” Wesley said. “Who else could have done it and how?”

I hesitated, trying to figure out how much to tell them, although the truth would shed a wide enough net to take the immediate focus off of my family. “It would take a fair amount of raw magical talent, but the average in this area is well above average, meaning that a good quarter of the practitioners could have done it, assuming they know how to manipulate thermal energy. For that matter, a group of lesser practitioners could have gotten together and done it, with the right time, focus, and knowledge.”

My brother and my father both had a gift for creating fire, which made fire starting come to them as easily and effortlessly as breathing. Both had to actively control their gifts to keep them in check, because it was a part of them. The best way to describe the difference between a gift and raw magical talent is to say that a gift is part of the soul, whereas magic is a part of the blood. As such, raw magical talent could be siphoned off, leaving a person alive but drained, but gifts stayed with a person forever. Rumor had it that some practitioners knew how to trap souls, thereby focusing their gifts into a magical object, but it wasn’t something I liked to think about.