by Rachel Aaron
Thankfully, he seemed to calm down once we got to the midrange auctions. Given how nice the list had been so far, my hopes were sky high, but though there were a lot of units to choose from, I couldn't find one I wanted. Everything in my price range was too old, too risky, too boring, too damaged, too something, and when I did spot something promising, it quickly got bid out of my reach. Then, when we were getting close to the end and the auditorium was starting to empty out as winners left to claim their units, a picture flashed up on the screen that made me sit bolt upright.
It was a townhouse in Magic Heights, one of the quiet little neighborhoods that moved around between the city's three major magical universities. I'd lived there myself during my first year at IMA, before I'd moved in with Heidi, and it was one of my favorite places to Clean. It wasn't as rich as the big developments by the river where all the corporate mages lived, but what it lacked in money, Magic Heights made up in good taste and eccentricity. I'd scored some of my best finds there, so I would have been interested no matter what, but what really caught my attention now was the complicated spellwork painted on the front door frame.
Spellwork I immediately recognized.
It took every bit of self-control I had not to leap out of my seat. The burned-out ward in the picture in front of me had the same spellwork as the notes in my bag. The DFZ was a huge city full of mages, but the chances of there being two who used the same eccentric mishmash of modern Thaumaturgy and ancient Alchemy seemed impossible. It had to be the same guy.
"Opal," Sibyl whispered warningly. "Don't."
I ignored her, lifting my finger to tap my wallet icon. My AR wasn't nearly as robust when I wore my goggles pushed up in my hair rather than properly seated on my face, but so long as the mana contacts inside the band were touching my body, I could still access the basics. Including my bank account, which was what I checked now, wincing when the number flashed up.
$2016.32
That was not a lot of money, especially not for a unit in Magic Heights. But through the haze of my excitement, I could vaguely hear Broker explaining that this was a smashed unit, which meant it had been robbed. That caught me by surprise. I'd been so focused on the spellwork, I hadn't even noticed that the front door wasn't just open, it was missing entirely, the wood kicked in until it had splintered into kindling. The rest of the place was similarly trashed. How trashed was impossible to say without seeing more, but every piece of furniture in the picture was broken.
That made my heart beat faster than ever. We didn't get units until they'd been in Collections for at least thirty days. Robbers were far less patient, so we saw smashed places a lot. They always went for peanuts since presumably the thieves had already taken everything of value. But robbers didn't pay attention to spellwork unless it was in their way, like a ward. Other circles, especially ones full of custom, esoteric spellwork they couldn't read, might go unnoticed, which meant the circle from the notes in my bag--or, even better, the stuff used to power it--might still be there.
"Opal," my AI growled. "Don't you dare."
But my hand was already in the air. "Two hundred."
Broker looked at me like I was nuts. The rest of the room did too, and I started to sweat. Two hundred was my usual opening bid, so I'd said it out of habit, which was a very stupid thing to do in hindsight. Bids on smashed units usually started in the tens. By bidding in the hundreds, I'd just tipped my entire hand, and from the way he was smirking at me over his shoulder like a hyena, DeSantos knew it.
"Three hundred," he called.
I clenched my fists. "Three fifty."
"What are you doing?" Sibyl yelled in my ear. "The place is smashed! If anything was there, it's long gone. You don't have money to waste on this!"
"We have three fifty," Broker said. "Do I hear three seventy-five?"
Still grinning at me, DeSantos raised his hand.
I glared back. "Four hundred."
"Five hundred," DeSantos said before I'd even finished.
"Six."
"Seven."
"One thousand!" I snarled, hoping that would cut him off. DeSantos might love trolling, but there was no way messing with me was fun enough to risk wasting a thousand dollars on a robbed unit. Sure enough, the older man blew me a kiss and turned back around in his seat. It was just starting to hit me that I'd won when a new voice spoke from my left.
"Eleven hundred," said Nik.
I whirled in my chair. "What?"
Nik's sharp gray eyes met mine. "Eleven hundred," he repeated calmly.
"Eleven hundred from Mr. Kos," Broker said, getting excited at the prospect of a real bidding war. "Do I hear twelve?"
"Let him have it," Sibyl whispered fiercely. "I swear, Opal, I will cut you off from your bank account if you say one more--"
I reached up and stabbed my finger through her mute button. "Twelve hundred."
"Thirteen," Nik said, leaning back in his chair.
"Fourteen."
"Fifteen."
"Two thousand!" I yelled, breath coming fast.
Even as I said it, I knew I was making a huge mistake. The chances of there being anything worth two grand in that apartment were slim to none. Even if they couldn't read the spellwork, there was no way any self-respecting robber would miss two hundred thousand in casting reagents, or a cockatrice egg. This was stupid. I should have shut up and let Nik have the damn thing. At least that way I could've claimed I was just bleeding my competition. But I couldn't. From the moment I'd seen the spellwork, I'd known--known--there was something good inside. It was the same instinct that had led me to all the treasures I'd ever found. It had also lost me tens of thousands of dollars over the last few months. As always, though, I couldn't let it go. I was already bracing myself to go even higher when Nik shrugged in surrender.
"Two thousand going once," Broker said. "Going twice." There was a long pause, and then he clapped his hands together. "Sold to Miss Yong-ae for two thousand dollars!"
The words echoed in my ears as I watched the money vanish from my account. Broker had already moved on to the next auction, but I didn't stick around to hear it. Whatever it was, I couldn't afford it. But done was done, so I hauled myself out of my seat and slipped past Nik toward the door to go see what I'd just spent all my money on.
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About the Authors
Rachel Aaron and Travis Bach are two giant nerds who love gaming, reading, writing, and hiking through the great outdoors while talking about gaming, reading, and writing! When they're not terrifying the wildlife, Rachel and Travis enjoy anime, manga, MMOs, table top gaming, cooking, pampering their old lady dog, and helping their son build secret bases in Minecraft.
Rachel and Travis live in Athens, GA, but dream of moving out west where the humidity isn't 90% all year long. If you love gaming and manga as much as we do, hit us up on twitter at @Rachel_Aaron / @TravBach or send us a note at www.rachelaaron.net!
Minimum Wage Magic, Nice Dragons Finish Last, One Good Dragon Deserves Another, No Good Dragon Goes Unpunished, A Dragon of a Different Color, and Last Dragon Standing Copyright 2018 by Rachel Aaron. All rights reserved.
All The Legend of Eli Monpress, and Paradox novels Copyright 2010 - 2018 by Rachel Aaron and Orbit Books. All rights reserved.
Cover Illustration by Daniel Schmelling, Cover Design by Rachel Aaron, Editing provided by Red Adept Editing.
As always, this book would not have been nearly as good without my amazing beta readers! Thank you so, so much to Michele Fry and Kevin Swearingen. Y'all are the BEST!
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