His eyes fluttered and he shook his head. “This must be another circumstance that only makes sense…”
“Exactly.” I stood and held it up for his inspection, ready for grabby hands.
His gaze roamed the rubber orb before flicking back to me. His eyes, fairly close, were the color of honey, with green specks swimming through. If he didn’t scowl at me so much, I’d remark on how pretty his peepers were. “Not one I recognize.”
“What does that mean in the scheme of things?”
“I oversee the purchase of spells for our entire faction. I often work directly with the most powerful mages, and know the style of the casings my subordinates handle. As you must know, most mages mark their spells in case they fall into another’s hands—”
“You mean, in case someone steals them.”
“I find it strange that that casing is not marked. It has a certain style, yes, but nothing more.”
“What kind of an idiot would mark a casing they planned to use against a vampire? Do you hear yourself?”
Anger flashed in his eyes. “Most mages buy casings in bulk. They order them with their markings. If they didn’t think the evidence would be found, since not many people dangle their heads above large serpents, they would have no need to prepare specialized spells and casings.”
I sighed, because even though I should’ve expected an argument like this, it was still tiresome. “I’ll just leave you with this: there are a great many mages in the world, and most of them don’t have the money to buy individualized anything. They certainly don’t have the money to buy in bulk.”
“It seems we travel in different magical circles—”
“What gave you that idea, Mr. Golden Chair?”
“—but we can agree that finding the user or maker of that casing is a start.”
All that build-up to a simple, logical conclusion. It would be a long case.
I cleared my mind and felt along the smooth rubber. “Do your people ever buy or steal spells without your knowledge?” I dug another empty casing out of my pouch and compared the two. The one I’d just found was larger and sturdier, with thicker rubber and a glossier exterior. That indicated a more volatile spell, which I relayed to him.
“I agree. And yes, occasionally they procure spells from an unauthorized dealer, when the need arises. Often the casings are kept, however, all marked, so we can keep track of who is using what. I make it my priority to make note of them all.”
I just could not believe he had never seen a casing without a marking. That said volumes about the people he dealt with—and how little he’d seen of the magical world’s underbelly.
Volumes.
“Regarding making a note of the casings,” I said, “we can assume your memory is…”
“Photographic.”
“Of course. Why wouldn’t it be, what with all the other things you have going for you?”
“I am ready to dangle you over the water again.” He stared down at me, utterly serious.
Laughter bubbled up from my middle. “I get that a lot.”
He looked at his feet. “Smoothing dirt doesn’t seem like it would require a volatile spell.”
I stared at the two casings. If I put the new one in the pouch, I’d have to show Darius all my spent spells. That would just amount to a lot more questions, like why do you have a bunch of empty casings in your spell pouch?
I slipped the old one into its home, to be used as a fake spell down the road, and put the new one into my pocket. “It doesn’t make sense, does it? Could be an old specimen, I guess, that just didn’t make it to you.”
“Pity we didn’t look harder at the other site.” He glanced back that way, then at me. “Keep walking forward. Don’t fall in the water or look over the edge. I will be right back.”
“Wait—”
He sped off like a motor was strapped to his back.
After taking a glance at the still waters, I did exactly what he’d said. Onward I walked, lost in thought about the many enemies I’d managed to accrue in such little time, all without the benefit of a bounty. At least the vampire who’d bonded that crazy mage would have to wait until Darius and I figured out whatever this riddle was. The mage’s friends, however…
“Another.”
I jumped and struck. My fist glanced off Darius’s muscled side before he danced backward, his brow furrowed.
I palmed my chest, trying to still my heart. “You scared the bejeebus out of me.”
“You need to pay better attention to your surroundings.”
If it wouldn’t stroke his ego, I’d mention something about his utterly silent advance, amazing speed, and daunting quickness. I was doing him a favor by withholding that information, surely—otherwise the guy’s ego would swell so large that he’d never have friends.
He held out his hand. When I reached for the proffered token, he pulled it away and tsked. “Finders keepers.”
“Mature.” When his hand advanced again, I inspected the orb, the same as the one I’d found. “Still, there’s the question of the sentinels. Did they use the spells? Or did the magic user kill them or trick them into leaving their posts?”
Without warning, I snatched at the casing. Darius yanked it away just in time, leaving my fingers to glance off his closed fist.
“Only turtles would be jealous of your speed.” Darius tucked his prize away.
“I was close. Admit it,” I said, continuing on.
“This was the same magic user. The pellet was discarded in roughly the same way. Tossed after use. Mages do it a lot. Witches and warlocks do not.”
“Witches don’t throw down their used casings?” That was something I’d never noticed.
The terrain slowly began to change. More land patched the waters with taller, thicker reeds. In the distance, the mountain loomed larger, spilling its trees onto the flatter, hopefully dryer, land.