Untouched magic, p.8
Untouched Magic, page 8
“He thinks that she’s somehow been given magic.”
“But she’s not magical,” I pointed out.
He shrugged. “That’s all I know. Look, once we pay the HVAC guy a visit, I promise we’ll catch up with Molly and see what’s going on. We’re going to get to the bottom of everything.”
The city passed by in a blur as I tried not to let my fears overtake me. I wanted to be optimistic like Duncan. But I’d seen what losing magic could do to people. It had completely reshaped their lives. A tiny voice in the back of my head taunted that I didn’t even know how to be an FBI agent without magic.
“Kayla, we’re here.”
I took a few steadying breaths before climbing out of the car and following him up to a second-floor office in a nondescript area of the financial district. All of the other offices on the floor were dark. Sanders HVAC at the far end of the hall was the only one with its lights on.
Duncan knocked once on the door and it swung inward.
“Mr. Sanders?” he called.
A rotund man with a bald spot on the top of his head appeared. He lumbered toward us and pulled the door open more. “You want to tell me why I’m missing my granddaughter’s gymnastics meet for this?”
“Because we’re investigating a series of arsons and it appears your company did work at each of the locations not long before the incidents,” I answered sharply.
“Oh ... Well, I’m sure that’s just a coincidence.”
“Did you pull the work orders for the two addresses I provided?” Duncan asked more neutrally.
“I’ve got them in the back.”
We followed Sanders into a cramped office with just enough room for a desk, computer, and filing cabinet. He tugged the top drawer of the cabinet open and rifled through manila folders labeled by month and year.
“Ever think of digitizing this?” I muttered.
“No. I know exactly where everything is,” he retorted and produced two order forms.
I noticed the same name on both forms: Michael Valencia. “What can you tell us about the guy who did the work?”
He took the form back and glanced at the name. “Mike? He’s a good employee when he shows up. I’ve probably been too lenient with him on his attendance. But like I said when he’s here, he’s one of my best guys.”
“You know why he’s got problems showing up?” I pressed.
“His mom was pretty sick recently. He’s been taking care of her and just had trouble getting in on time.”
“We’ll need his contact information,” I said.
Sanders pulled open the lower cabinet drawer and rifled through the folder marked V. It was thin compared to some of the others. Not too many employees with last names at the end of the alphabet. He handed over a slim file labeled Valencia, Michael. It had a picture of his driver’s license, home address, and phone number. It also listed his mother, Camile Valencia, as his emergency contact.
“Thank you for this,” Duncan said.
“What can you tell us about the jobs he did at these two places?” I moved to block the man’s egress from the office.
“Honestly, you’d have to talk to Mike about those details. I just coordinate the jobs. The guys on the ground handle the nitty gritty stuff.”
“If we have any more questions, we’ll be in touch.” Duncan handed over his card. “And if you can think of anything, let us know.”
“Sure.”
I still didn’t move. The fire last night had felt targeted. I hadn’t asked Jonathan—and I hadn’t confirmed with Duncan whether anyone else had asked—but it seemed likely there would be a work order in Sanders’ file cabinet for Notre Dame.
“Before we go, I need you to check your system for one more address.”
To his credit, Sanders, straightened and moved to the computer. I waited as the machine booted up and he logged into his system. I gave him the address. In my peripheral vision I caught Duncan’s face as it dawned on him what I was looking for.
“Looks like we did some work there about two weeks ago.” Sanders pushed himself out of the chair behind the desk and ambled back to the file cabinet.
He rifled through the files until he found the one he was looking for and handed it over. Sure enough, Michael Valencia was listed as the employee who did the work there.
“Mind if we make copies of these?” I held up the work orders.
“Knock yourself out.”
I stepped out of the office into the larger reception area and made copies of the documents to take with us. I returned the originals to Sanders before leading the way out of the office.
“Good call on Notre Dame,” Duncan said as we headed to the car.
“It felt like it had to be connected.”
“Sounds like we need to pay Mr. Valencia a visit,” Duncan said as both of our phones buzzed with the same incoming message from Jacquie to get back to headquarters.
Hunting down our HVAC technician would have to wait.
Ten
Seeing Jonathan sitting in one of the conference room chairs threw me as we walked in. Even in all the time he and Molly had been dating, I’d never seen them interact anywhere outside of Notre Dame. No late-night dinner pick ups at the office or early morning drop offs for that matter. He looked about as comfortable being there as I was having him present. J.T. sat opposite the bartender.
“How are you?” J.T. addressed me just as Duncan opened his mouth, probably to warn him off from asking the question.
“Confused. Pissed off.”
“I would be, too,” J.T. agreed.
“What’s going on?” I turned to Molly. She sat in the chair beside Jonathan, her hands not visible beneath the table.
“J.T. has a theory about what might have happened to your magic,” Jacquie explained.
“But before I say anything, I need to confirm some details with you first, just to be sure,” he added.
I slid into one of the empty chairs around the conference table and turned my attention to the paramedic. “I’m all ears.”
“Okay, so you said you first noticed your magic was a little off kilter after the explosion downtown, right?”
“Yeah.”
“And you noticed it was gone at the hospital last night?”
I glanced around the room at my colleagues. “I’m pretty sure any of them could have told you that.”
“Jonathan mentioned he felt some sort of wave of power ripple from the bar right as you guys were getting out. Do you remember that?”
I closed my eyes, trying to picture the scene. I’d been focused on keeping my clean air spell going around all three of us. I hadn’t noticed anything else hit me. Except the explosion that had thrown me to the ground. “I don’t know. Maybe. I definitely remember an explosion of some kind.”
“What were you doing right before it happened?”
“Trying to haul ass out of a burning building.”
“You were holding my hand,” Molly said quietly.
“His, too.” I gestured to Jonathan.
The bartender shook his head. “You dropped mine before the magic hit. I wasn’t near the entrance when it happened, but I think it knocked you square in the back.”
“And what, you think that’s what took my magic?”
“You said it yourself; you thought the bombs could be interfering with magic,” Jacquie noted.
“That still doesn’t explain what happened to my power and why it’s gone.”
‘That’s the thing, I don’t believe it’s gone,” J.T. said. “I’ve interacted with your magic enough to be able to recognize it. I ran a few tests with Molly this morning and it’s the same magical signature. Somehow, your magic has been transferred into her.”
“But she’s mundane.” I looked at the other woman. “No offense.”
“None taken.” She tucked a few strands of blonde hair behind one ear. “But it makes sense. The things I’ve done so far are all things I’ve seen you do.”
“As for why she ended up with it, I’ve had this speculation that mundanes who spend enough time around magic can pick up on its use. And if they’re open enough to it, might even be able to tap into the innate magic in the world,” J.T. explained.
“Say that’s all true and Molly now has my magic. How do I get it back?”
“I’m working on that. For now, I would say you should give her a crash course before she does something we can’t explain away.”
That suggested she’d done involuntary magic in front of people who weren’t meant to know it existed. Well, shit. Heat crept up the nape of my neck and panic gripped my stomach, twisting it into nauseous knots. What did I know about teaching someone to use magic? Sure, I’d learned how to do it, but it had mostly been trial and error.
“I wouldn’t know where to begin. Aren’t you better equipped for this? I mean, you help train the Healer kids,” I reminded him. “Not to mention, my magic got so twisted up it literally turned me invisible.”
“I could explain the mechanics of how it feels to use my power, but Kayla, she’s got your magic. You’re the only one who knows what it feels like, how it reacts to emotional stress,” J.T. replied. “I know this is bizarre and uncomfortable, but you’re the only one who can do this.”
“I’m a good student, I promise,” Molly offered with a weak smile.
This wasn’t the ideal place to train. There were too many distractions and I suspected neither of us needed our colleagues to pry, however well-meaning they might be. I looked over at J.T. and asked, “Do you think we could use some space at headquarters?”
“I don’t see why not. I don’t think the Council has anything going on today.”
I turned to Molly. “We better get going then. Something tells me the time we thought we had between attacks has gone out the window.”
“We’ll dig into Michael Valencia,” Duncan said, settling into one of the seats around the conference table.
“And we’re waiting for Fire Investigations to confirm whether they found a similar device at Notre Dame,” Jacquie added.
“When can I get back in there to assess the damage?” Jonathan sounded worn out.
“Once Fire Investigations clears it. But that could be a few hours yet, or maybe a day or two. You’d be better off going home and getting some rest,” Jacquie answered, holding up a hand to keep him quiet. “Believe me, I understand that doing nothing isn’t your default mode. But you need to let us do our jobs and handle the scene.”
“She’s right. We’ll get to the bottom of this,” Molly said and gave his hand a firm squeeze before standing up. She paused on the side of the table closest to the door and to J.T. she said, “You might want to come along. Uh, for research.”
More like in case one of us got injured. I wouldn’t say no to a little healer magic back-up. Time to see if I could actually teach my boss anything about magic.
We stood in the Council chamber with about three feet between us. Molly dropped into a fighter’s crouch. I just stood there trying to figure out what I was supposed to do and where I should start. Magic in combat was something that I’d always done out of pure instinct. It was all reactionary, but you didn’t start there.
“I think you need to relax,” I finally said.
She straightened. “You’re the one who said we’re on a time crunch. I figured it was best to jump to the defensive stuff.”
“You won’t be any good in a fight unless you can actually control the magic,” I replied. “Tell me again what you’ve managed to do.”
“Well, there was the incident where I turned invisible at the hospital. And I kind of levitated once.”
“And what were you doing when those things happened?”
She rubbed at her forehead, brushing wisps of blonde hair out of her face. “I don’t really remember. Nothing special. The first time, I was with Jonathan after he’d refused to get checked out by the nurses. And then, I was with J.T. and he was asking me questions about what happened.”
“How were you feeling when those things happened?’
“Stressed. Confused.”
“More emotional than usual?” I suggested.
“Yeah, I’d say so.”
“Magic is tied to emotion. It feeds on that visceral need, whether it’s to help or hurt or hide. Until you can tap into that with purpose, you’re not going to be able to do shit with magic.”
“Okay, so I have to get in touch with my emotions. I can do that,” Molly said, shaking out her arms and bouncing on the balls of her feet. She closed her eyes, and I could see them moving behind their lids as she tried to concentrate. After about thirty seconds, she opened them again.
“I don’t feel anything.”
“Did you try?” I retorted in annoyance.
“Of course, I did,” she answered.
“Okay, let’s not jump down each other’s throats,” J.T. interjected. “Why don’t you try taking a few deep breaths? I know for me, at least, that helps center me. It kind of opens up my connection to my magic.”
Molly glanced my way. “What does it feel like when you do it?”
I’d spent so long trying to repress the power within me that even now, I could feel phantom ripples of magic cascading over my skin without warning. I shivered with a strange mixture of disgust and relief.
“It’s kind of always there for me, right below the surface. I just have to look inward and it’s there, waiting to do whatever I want.”
“Deep breathing. Worth a try.”
She took several breaths, her chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. I strained, praying I’d somehow be able to sense the magic rising within her. All I got was my own anxiety ratcheting up my heartbeat.
“I can feel something is there, but it’s like it doesn’t want to respond.”
“Both times you managed to do magic; it was a defense mechanism.” I was grasping at straws here, but it seemed like a reasonable assessment. “Maybe we need to get you back in that headspace for you to connect with it.”
“Well, I mean I’m feeling stressed about this whole situation. I don’t like leaving Jacquie and Duncan without back-up, especially as we’re dealing with magical bad guys. But I’m guessing that isn’t what you want.”
“No.”
I surveyed the room around us and spotted several folding chairs that were typically assembled in a semi-circle when the Council met. An idea took shape in my mind. It was crude and J.T. would likely balk at it, but it was what I had. I marched over to the far side of the room and picked up one of the chairs. Without warning I spun like I was throwing a shot put and lobbed the chair in Molly’s direction as hard as I could.
She gave a yelp and the chair sailed right through her, colliding with the doorframe on the other side of the room. I could barely make out the outline of her body as she remained translucent.
“What the hell was that?” Molly demanded.
“Not that I approve of violence, but it did work,” J.T. commented. “Molly, look down.”
She turned her attention to her barely visible state. “Oh ... I didn’t even realize I’d done it.”
“You had to have on some level intended that result,” J.T. said in a clinically calm tone.
“He’s right. Magic relies on intent, even when it’s acting of its own accord. It has to draw a desire from somewhere. You knew you couldn’t deflect the chair, so the next best option was to let it pass straight through you,” I explained. “Good call by the way. It’s what I would have done.”
“I guess I did kind of have that split second thought. But is that really enough for magic to respond?”
“I’d say it is,” J.T. noted. “But we should try a few more things just to be sure.”
“Sure. But, uh … how do I stop being all see through?”
“Just will it,” I said. To be honest, I didn’t know how else to explain it.
We waited there for a good three minutes until finally she was back to being solid and corporeal again. “Uh, I think I’m going to need that chair.”
J.T. scooped it up and unfolded it just in time for Molly to sink into it, head resting between her hands. “You could have warned me about the headaches.” She took a breath. “You all make it look so easy.”
“Magic always comes with a price, even if the toll gets smaller the more you build up your magical muscles,” J.T. said. “Don’t push yourself.”
She gave a bitter laugh. “I don’t have the luxury of waiting until I feel better. I need to get some semblance of control over these powers. Otherwise, what’s the point?”
What was the point?
If the bomb at Notre Dame had been the cause of the magical transfer like we assumed, why even bother? Why give a mundane magical power? Most people didn’t even know magic existed. And even if some random person found themselves with magical abilities, they wouldn’t know how to use them.
That could cause a certain amount of chaos if the wrong person got dosed with magic. But that didn’t seem to fit with attacking businesses. There were still too many unanswered questions in this case. We needed to track down Michael Valencia and see what he knew about the work done on all three buildings.
“We’ll try something less intense for a while,” I finally said when I realized both J.T. and Molly were watching me with expectant expressions.
“Like what?”
“Shielding conversations is useful. You just kind of project a bubble around the people you want protected and it muffles things for anyone outside the bubble,” I explained.
“How’s that going to help?” she muttered darkly.
“Coupled with keeping us invisible, it’d be really handy if we wanted to eavesdrop on potential suspects without them knowing we were there.”
“Oh, yeah. That does make sense.” She massaged the spot between her eyebrows. “I don’t mean to come off as uninformed. I think it’s just this headache is getting to me. It’s like someone’s got my head in a vice.”
“You’re here to help with injuries,” I reminded J.T.
He stepped up and placed his hand on the nape of Molly’s neck. The tension in her body melted away. “I’m not sure a two-pronged spell is necessarily less intense,” J.T. commented when he pulled his hand away.
