“Should I go for help?” Roy asked, fidgeting with the edge of his flannel shirt and pacing through the floorboard of the limo.
Go where? To whom? I gave Roy a minute shake of my head and then considered the seat my “host” had offered.
It wasn’t like I had much of a choice with Thug One and Thug Two outside the door. I slid stiffly into the plush leather seat and crossed my legs. I stil had the charm to detect glamour in my pocket. Getting to it might be an issue, but the man looked only mildly interested when I dipped into my pocket and slid the smal disk out. I clipped it to my bracelet, but no sudden attack of hiccups hit, so what I saw was apparently what I got.
“And what would that charm be, my dear?” the man asked, his voice dispassionate but his eyes glinting with curiosity.
I ignored the question. “I don’t think we’ve been introduced.”
Again he flashed that dazzling smile. “Of course. Forgive me. I must admit, I am not accustomed to not being recognized on sight. I am Maximil ian Bel the Third.”
“Of Spel s for the Rest of Us?” That meant not only was he human, but he was a norm. Spel s for the Rest of Us existed to teach norms who had extreme determination—
and loads of money—how to touch the edge of the Aetheric plane and draw magic. The slang word for such a norm was
“skimmer . ” It was rude, but an accurate description, as they could only skim the smal est amount of raw energy. The problem with skimming was that norms weren’t meant to touch the Aetheric or to channel energy—it tended to burn them up from the inside out, typical y starting with their minds and driving them insane. There was legislation currently in the works to make skimming il egal, but the bil s kept getting delayed. People like Maximil ian Bel I I were likely the cause of the delays.
I opened my senses, letting my natural sensitivity to I opened my senses, letting my natural sensitivity to magic loose in the confined car. Bel wore more than a dozen charms on his person, everything from a dewrinkler charm to a charm meant to engender feelings of friendliness—which was borderline gray magic. None of the charms were particularly powerful, but al were at a decent level, some stronger than I could have cast, and nothing I expected to be in the possession of a skimmer. Of course, he could buy his charms. Or he could be a witch making easy money on norms. Despite his charisma charm, nothing about this situation added up to my feeling any overt goodwil toward him.
“What can I do for you, Mr. Bel ?”
“Please, cal me Max. I would like to hire your services.
Cigarette?” He held out a flat gold cigarette case and I shook my head. He took one of the thin cigarettes from the case and fished a matching gold lighter from an inner jacket pocket. “You don’t mind if I—?”
“Actual y, I do mind. There are channels to go through if you would like to hire me. You could cal my business line, use my Web site, or e-mail me.” I uncrossed my arms and leaned forward. “Having your goons pluck me off the street is not an appropriate channel, nor is it appreciated. Now, it’s time for me to get going. Good day.”
“Please, Miss Craft, I did not mean to offend. Your line appears to be turned off, your voice mail is ful , and e-mail is so impersonal for what I wish to discuss. I am wil ing to spend a tidy sum of money to retain your services.”
Money is always hard to turn down, especial y when working freelance. But hard to turn down doesn’t mean impossible. I showed some teeth. “Good day, sir.” I slid across the seat toward the door.
“You haven’t even listened to my request yet,” he said, and pressed a button beside him.
A click sounded as the doors locked. Creep. I reached for the handle anyway, hoping it would auto-unlock from the inside, but it didn’t and there were no controls for the lock inside, but it didn’t and there were no controls for the lock on my side of the limo. I turned toward Roy. I didn’t want to alert Bel to Roy’s presence, so I fixed Roy in my gaze and then cut my eyes toward the button near Bel ’s hand.
The ghost nodded and walked over to the button. I just hoped he had enough focus to push it—the TV bested him if he got even slightly distracted.
“I’m not inclined to work with anyone who holds me against my wil , so you better hope the deceased has some other relation who can go through the proper channels,” I said, leaning back in the seat but not moving away from the door.
“Deceased?” Bel scrunched thick, dark eyebrows, which I guessed were the same color as his hair would have been if he’d had any on his head. “I don’t want to hire you to raise the dead, Miss Craft. I want you to open the Aetheric for me and a select number of my fol owers.”
The world slowed for a moment at his words, and I felt the blood drain from my face as if al my strength slipped out of me and into the leather seat. “I think you were misinformed about what I do.”