Magic Outside the Box

by Honor Raconteur

  We’d eat, pray for a breakthrough, and go hunt down a potential witness. We had that list of associates from the hotel manager to get through. That would definitely eat up an afternoon, even if nothing panned out. Hopefully, either he/she or Weber would be able to give us an answer about something. Right now we had far too many questions and not nearly enough answers.

  As much as I’d like to sleep, I found it impossible to do so. The ladies had already stated their intentions to retire for the evening, but I stayed in the conference room with Seaton to pour over Belladonna’s messy, difficult, hen-scratched notes. Why? Even I wasn’t sure. The allure of the unknown?

  Seaton had Burtchell’s notes in front of him, I had Belladonna’s in front of me, and we sat side by side, close enough our shoulders were in danger of overlapping. It was the only sensible way to handle matters. I had no desire to re-do Burtchell’s work, and his insights into Belladonna’s portal crafting were absolutely riveting. I’d not seen magical theory like this since university. The last thing to break my brain in this manner was Jamie’s attempt to explain hashtags to me.

  “Am I reading this right?” I demanded of the man at my side. “Did Burtchell actually figure out how she powered the spell?”

  “He did.” Seaton let loose an incredulous oath that would have gotten him arrested in certain parts of the world. “Clever, clever man. How he dug that out of her notes is beyond me, but he’s got two different reference points for it. Just that information alone is powerful.”

  I nodded in instant agreement. It was that. “No sign she put down source points or anything like that?”

  “No, none. Have you seen any hint in her notes?”

  “I’ve seen a few scribbles that could be it, but it’s just as possible it isn’t.”

  Seaton grimaced understanding. “Yes, one can break his own sanity trying to put reason behind everything she wrote down. Mark it, just in case. It might make sense later.”

  That was a sensible suggestion and I did so. We still hoped to find Jamie’s path of origin. It was something of a moot point if Belladonna had written it down or not—at least in Jamie’s case. Even if we could figure out how to send her back, we wouldn’t. Her core was so unstable the trip alone would likely kill her. Even if she survived it, she’d be dead in a month. Magic—our type of magic—didn’t exist on Earth. Without constant stabilization spells, she’d be dead shortly. Still, I wanted to find a way Jamie could at least send word back to her family that she was well. I knew it ate at her, that she’d left loved ones behind who assumed her dead.

  Up until this point, I hadn’t thought we could manage it. But knowing how the spells were powered, that was a game changer. It was an interesting quandary for me. As a magician, I wanted to know how Belladonna pulled it off. As Jamie’s friend, I didn’t. I didn’t want to know and then have to face her and tell her she couldn’t use it.

  Seaton sighed in mixed regret and frustration. We resumed reading.

  The door latch clicked and my head came up to see who had entered. Jamie strode through. Her hair was loose, and she wore the baggy shirt and pants she often wore to bed. Not that I knew what she normally wore to bed—well, I did, but that’s because I’d been with her while she was convalescing. It’s not like I had any other reason to…

  I’m going to stop now.

  “Henri, Sherard, why are you two still up?” She stepped lightly toward us, her feet bare and soundless on the carpet. Clearly she’d either been in bed or ready for it.

  “We wanted to go over Burtchell’s research,” Seaton explained with no more than a glance at her.

  “Seaton’s called for a courier to come and fetch it tomorrow,” I pitched in. “Tonight is our only chance to look at it.”

  “Ah. I did come down here to ask that very question, actually. The hotel manager said we could put it in the safe tonight.”

  Seaton gave a noncommittal hum. “We might do that.”

  Jamie came around behind me, her hands landing on my shoulders. I wasn’t at all sure what she was going to do until her thumbs dug lightly into the upper trapezius muscles, right at the base of the neck, and I let out a low gasp of pain.

  “Dude, you are tight.” She continued to rub pressure around the shoulders. Her hands were knowing, sure, as if she’d done this countless times before.

  I let my head drop, hovering between that border of pleasure and pain. It did feel good to have that tension released, although I was sure I’d feel sore tomorrow from it. I carried all the tension in my neck and shoulders.

  “How much had he figured out?” she asked casually.

  Seaton had to answer. I was too busy focusing on not drooling. “He figured out how Belladonna powered the spells. There’re still no source points, or notes how she aimed the portal spells. I’m afraid that’s going to remain a mystery. But for all her madness, this bit of craft is quite brilliant. It took someone of Burtchell’s genius to unravel it. I haven’t been this giddy about magical theory since university.”

  “Same,” I croaked out and groaned as she hit a particularly difficult knot. “Oww.”

  “Are massage parlors a thing on this world? Because if they are, you need to go see one.”

  “They are, and we do.” Seaton sighed and let the book fall onto the table with a soft thump. “After this case especially.”

  “Totally. So he figured out how she powered the portal spells? Isn’t that the main thing that had you guys scratching your heads?”

  “One of them, yes. It’s actually quite ingenious on her part.” Seaton, bless him, continued the explanation. “You’re aware you can use an element as a source of power? Sunlight, water, wind, and so forth?”

  “Sure, yeah, that’s basic magical theory 101. Henri’s told me that much.”

  “In this case, Belladonna used cosmic energy as an elemental source. Which is madness; that sort of energy can overpower and destroy a user if not harnessed correctly. Only the insane would attempt it. But of course, she was insane, and she managed. This much, at least, she was good about documenting. Likely because she had enough survival instincts to not rely on her memory. Her notes are jumbled, but Burtchell worked them out and put them in the correct order.”

  Jamie’s hands stilled on my shoulders for a moment. “So…it’s possible to recreate the portals? You always told me returning home wasn’t doable.”

  “Still isn’t,” Seaton responded gently, apologetically. “We still have no source points, no idea which direction you came from. But we have pages of her notes we also haven’t deciphered yet, so the answer might be in there somewhere. If we can make heads or tails of it.”

  “Sounds like you’re not at square one, but you don’t have that final solution, either.” Jamie’s tone was resigned but also a tad hopeful, her words taking an upward lilt.

  “That’s more or less the size of it. At least we’ve made progress. I didn’t think Burtchell had managed any sort of breakthrough.”

  “There’s that.” She worked on my neck a minute longer before releasing me with a gentle pat on the shoulders. “Alright, I only came down to get that answer and pass along the manager’s offer of the safe. Go to bed, guys, it’s late. Night.”

  “Good night,” we chorused as she left.

  I did feel looser in the shoulders and neck, the strained twinges of a headache dissipating. Perhaps because of that, a thought I’d half-entertained earlier came back to me. “Seaton…are you done in?”

  “Not really, my mind’s still churning madly. Why?”

  “How about we do a bit of our own magical ingenuity?”

  He gave me a glance askance, one brow cocked in question. “I’m always game for that, as you well know. What?”

  “Jamie asked me a question—well, it was more a complaint. But it sparked a thought. I’m not sure how viable it is. She reported to me that the postman heard a man visiting before the time of death, and that he was smoking with Burtchell.”

  “The postman’s sure of that
?”

  “Werewolf,” I explained succinctly.

  Seaton’s expression cleared instantly. “Ah. Yes, he’d know. Where are you going with this?”

  “Wait, I’m getting there. Mrs. Landry claimed Burtchell only smoked cigars, that he never touched cigarettes, correct? We collected both from the study. Here’s my thought. What if we take the cigarette and do a tracking spell from it, find the man smoking it?”

  Seaton’s head started to shake in denial, only for him to pause midway through. “But we can’t track an owner of something, even something used?”

  I lifted an illustrative finger. “But we can track blood from a person. We can identify parts of someone’s body—like blood—as belonging to them. Why can’t we combine both spells and use it to track the traces of saliva on the cigarette? There must be some.”

  He stared at me with wide eyes for a full ten seconds. “That is quite possibly the most ingenious or the stupidest idea I’ve ever heard from you. But you know, I think it could work, provided we combine the spells in the right manner. You’re sure it will work on dried saliva?”

  “It works quite well on dried blood,” I pointed out, glad to see he was on board with this idea. It was much more fun to work these sorts of magical challenges with a partner. And Seaton and I had proven to be a good team.

  His imagination and intellect sparked. I could see it in his eyes as he swung about, heading for the chalkboard. “Let’s try it. Wait, I don’t want to do it with our evidence, what if we misstep on the first try?”

  “That’s quite a good thought,” I allowed, thinking quickly. “And this might take us more than one try before getting it right. Let’s see if the manager has a pack of cigarettes. We can try it with our saliva and get it nailed down properly before using it on our evidence.”

  “Go ask,” he encouraged. He flipped the chalkboard about, scribbling out the nuances of the blood tracking spell. “I’ll lay out the spells.”

  I dutifully went and fetched coffee while I was at it. This bore all the earmarks of turning into an all-nighter.

  Morning light filtered in through the haze of cigarette smoke—not that I really noticed. My eyes were red and scratchy, either from the smoke or spending all night awake. Seaton was manic at this point, hair standing on end, in shirtsleeves and resembling a student right on the verge of a final test. Or perhaps a mad scientist. I’d cast aspersions at him if I wasn’t positive I looked his twin.

  But all of that was inconsequential because our hard work had paid off. And that made the sleepless night and our countless failures well worth it.

  The door clicked open and Jamie strode through. Well, she started to. Her nose wrinkled up at the smell and she coughed. Waving a hand in front of her face, she demanded, “What are you two doing?”

  Both Sherard and I were bent over the large table in the center of the room, at least a dozen butts in the ashtray, cigarette cartons strewn over the surface like a mother storm had hit. I beamed at her, possibly in a demented fashion. She looked both ready to bolt for safety and stalwart in her stance, clearly bracing herself for shenanigans.

  Sherard bounded over to her like a puppy. He thrust an unsmoked cigarette at Jamie’s face, nearly into her mouth. “Lick it!”

  “You know, the last time I was naïve enough to fall for that line, I was six. I’d like to think I’ve learned better by now.”

  He waved it impatiently at her. “We’re proving an experiment. Lick it.”

  Against her better judgement, Jamie gave it a good swipe of her tongue, eyeing him suspiciously as she did so.

  Sherard carted the cigarette back to me proudly, like Clint would a mouse he’d just caught. I promptly waved a wand and cast a spell, the words lyrical. I reveled in a helping heap of smugness as the spell launched forward and a pale blue line shot from cigarette to Jamie in an unerring trajectory.

  Of course she’d seen something like this before. I’d used a similar spell to track down a thief by using his blood. It didn’t take a magician to be able to see the line, although not everyone could. It depended on how sensitive they were to magic. Jamie was just sensitive enough.

  She stared at us incredulously, the facts tumbling through her head. The cigarette butt in Burtchell’s study, the one Jamie had wanted DNA tested, but couldn’t. I could see her slot the pieces together visibly. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but there isn’t a spell for what you just did.”

  “Not until, oh,” Sherard made a show of checking his pocket watch, “an hour and ten minutes ago.”

  Jamie promptly went to him, seized his face with both hands, and kissed him right on the forehead. He spluttered a laugh, then laughed harder as she turned on her heels, snagged me, and did the exact same to me. I blushed and cleared my throat, finding it difficult to meet her eyes.

  “You’re both freaking brilliant and I love you for it. Have you tried it on the butt from the study?”

  “Not yet,” I denied, fussing with the hem of my waistcoat and still blushing hotly. “We wanted to make sure we had it down before we attempted it. Just in case the spell went horribly wrong.”

  “Thank you for being sensible. Well, it’s breakfast time now. Don’t take this wrong, but you two need a bath and a change of clothes, at least. Let’s stop, eat, compare notes, and then do your spell afterwards.”

  I immediately agreed with relief, “Yes, let’s.”

  As proud as I was of my success, I did reek of smoke. And with the elation wearing off, I desperately wished for rest. Perhaps I could fit in a nap later on in the afternoon?

  I felt somewhat more refreshed after a quick bath and a change of clothes. We rendezvoused after breakfast and sorted our agenda for the day. As it wasn’t necessary for all of us to follow the potential lead of the cigarette, we divided duties once more. McSparrin went to check up on Weber, as he was far later in finishing the autopsy than expected. Seaton fell to examining the lock design of the house to see if he could find a way to lockpick it. Jamie and I used the lead from the cigarette.

  For some reason, Jamie insisted this tracking required the use of the motorcar. Of course, with me casting the spell and maintaining it, I could hardly drive at the same time. Which defaulted to Jamie driving, and truly, I didn’t think that wise. I eyed her with open dismay. “Surely we can walk?”

  “In this heat? You want to walk somewhere?” Jamie riposted neatly, an impish grin on her face. She patted my arm consolingly. “I promise I won’t go over fifteen, alright?”

  “I’m holding you to that.” With severe misgivings, I climbed into the passenger side of the vehicle.

  She started the motor as I cast the spell. I had the cigarette butt in the palm of my hand, with a glove on to keep from contaminating it, my wand in the other. Our variation on the Blood Hunting spell meant we had cannibalized the basics of the spell and then incorporated it to detect water—saliva, in this case—instead of blood. A weird gestalt, to be sure. I still wasn’t quite sure why it worked. That particular bit of genius was Seaton’s brainchild more than mine, and I’d been so dizzy from lack of sleep I’d let him try just about everything. Including things neither of us should have tried.

  I spoke the incantation carefully, it being very new to my tongue. “Water of the body, hear me. Hear the call of your source. Return to your origins. Show the path to the one who holds you.” It worked just as expected, the line leading out further down the street, stretching out of sight. The traces of saliva lit up in wisps of blue and white, wrapping about the butt before flowing ahead, illustrating the path to follow. The line appeared as a steady blue stream, unlike its sister spell, which showed red.

  Jamie put the car into drive and we were off, both of us keeping a keen eye on the thin blue line.

  “It really is quite cool,” Jamie complimented me. “You and Seaton should publish this. Do magicians publish papers?”

  “Quite so. A limited circulation press issues a magazine on a quarterly basis. I’ve never contributed to it, although S
eaton has on a few occasions.” I was flushed with pride that she thought this spell so revolutionary it was worth sharing with my peers. “You think it that remarkable?”

  “Not only that, but helpful. Think of how many cases you could have used this spell to find a suspect. And if it works with saliva, would it work with something else? Tears, or skin cells? Hair?”

  My interest perked sharply at the implications. “I hadn’t thought of it in that respect. We’d only just gotten it to work, after all. You think it would work on a, well, not-liquid part of a body?”

  “It all belongs to a person’s body, doesn’t it? I think it would still gel.” Her confidence was spoiled as she added, “I think. I don’t know, I’m not a mage. You tell me.”

  “In theory, I allow it’s quite feasible. We’ll have to experiment after this case and see how it all is.” I’d also like to test why the tracking spell worked on her. I would have thought with all her immunity spells, that one would have failed. I’d nearly stopped Seaton before he demanded she licked the cigarette, but I’d wanted to see the results. We still struggled to grasp exactly what spells were deemed as ‘harmful’ by Belladonna’s spellwork. This one apparently did not fall under that domain.

  Jamie’s mind continued on in a different vein. “I hope you have time to experiment properly after this. I just know this case is going to open a can of worms.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “Ah, right, that idiom doesn’t translate well here. I mean it’s going to open us up to potential trouble. You know how the Kingsmen want me to join their ranks?”

  I nodded. I’d heard that before. Several times, in fact. After seeing the way the Kingsmen reacted to her, I was rather surprised she hadn’t already done so.

  “Well, I can just see this case opening up the debate all over again. If the queen has enough confidence in me to come to me directly, then why aren’t I in the Kingsmen?”