My doorway darkened, filled with a tall man dressed in a Hawaiian shirt and khaki pants. Chris Rollins, my friend and now my lawyer. His medium-length brown hair was combed straight back. In law school we studied and lamented our rocky romances together.
Chris was the first wizard I'd spent enough time with to be comfortable when he casually did spells for chores like wiping up spills. I envied him because he had grown up in a family of wizards and witches and had come into his power at the usual age of twelve. My adopted parents were very caring but not magical, so I'd missed out on growing up in a home like his.
The alarm pinged as he entered. His eyebrows, darker than his hair, jutted up.
"What's going on out there?" I hurried over to him.
"You look worse than I thought." Standing just inside the doorway, he extended a hand at the camera and said, "Obscure," causing a black cloud to form around it. "Client confidentiality. Jake agreed I could block the camera. Those aren't just street cops out there. The Proz have taken over the case."
His news hit me hard, and I sat down with a thump on the ledge bed. The Protective Wizards, a branch of the regular police force, handled special cases involving magical people. I did not want to be the focus of a special unit. The Proz had authority to use their extraordinary magical powers and tools to investigate crime, although wily lawyers like me constantly challenged them. I never expected to be the subject of their scrutiny. "Who's in charge?"
"Detective Sigrid Jonson."
The defense bar had nicknamed Detective Jonson The Ice Maiden. "I'm not looking forward to being interviewed by her."
He sat next to me. "You've already invoked your right to remain silent. Through me."
I gripped my knees. "I have to remember you're the lawyer and I'm the client. I'll do what you say."
"You must be in shock." One end of his mouth curved up, but then he probably realized I wasn't joining in his humor—I slumped and hung my head. He patted me on the back and hurried on. "I'm having a nurse come by to assess you tonight. She'll make a record of your injuries."
I lifted my head and wiped tears away. I hadn't been able to help Cullen. I somehow had become a suspect in a murder case. I had a lot to cry about, but I had to be practical. "I have no idea how I'm going to pay you. My income has diminished since all I'm working on is appeals. It's a way for me to earn money while I'm stuck here."
"Don't worry. We'll figure out the details after we get you through the night."
I shifted on the cement slab. "What's going to happen next?"
"With the understanding that I am acting as your attorney, I want to know the whole story."
I took a deep breath to compose myself. "Cullen wanted to talk to me about reading a contract for him. I refused, he was insistent, and I got a bit testy." Was that an accurate summary? I could've been nicer to Cullen.
Chris lifted one eyebrow, which meant he had questions. "I get it that you've had a rough time, but I need details. When you say 'testy,' do you mean you yelled?"
"Of course not. He had a way of pushing my buttons. I may have gotten a bit snappish with him. You know how dramatic Cullen could be. He may have done some arm waving."
Chris visited the ranch twice a week as part of his training to be a Master Wizard, so he knew most of the residents. From his frown I guessed he found my answer too succinct.
"Did it get physical?" he asked.
"Well, he grabbed my arm a couple of times. It's not like we had a fist fight." I rubbed my temples. Crying gave me a headache. I hated having to explain the scene with Cullen since I didn't want to relive it. "You should know that during part of the time, Cullen and I were somewhat observed. The residents and staff gathered on the porch during the REM break. Cullen and I were about fifty feet away when they first came out."
Chris looked at my hands, which were clenched into fists. "This isn't easy, but I need to know the worst. Go through the whole scene word for word."
After I told him everything, Loki popped out of his book and cawed, "The rest is silence."
Retelling the attack on Cullen brought back the terror. It made me so restless, I jumped up and strode about the room. "How would you explain what happened?" I continued before Chris even opened his mouth. "Someone could have propelled the bird out to Cullen. The bird contained a spell that activated and attacked him. I can't be the only suspect in the case."
Chris wrote in a black notebook the size of his palm. "I agree. Once things shake down, there'll be plenty of suspects. Right now I don't have a clear explanation."
"One thing I don't get," I said. "If someone on the porch used the propel spell to send the bird to Cullen, how come nobody noticed?"
Chris dropped his notebook on the floor. "You didn't get your magic training when you were twelve or thirteen like most wizards and witches. Kids learn sleight of hand so they can do magic without anyone noticing."
I picked up the notebook. "Right, a magician's hand deceives the eye."
Chris smiled. "You might want to take that butterfly out of your hair."
I plucked off an orange butterfly made of paper. He'd been clever—I hadn't heard or seen him do the spell. "I get your point. Do you think the cops might arrest me tonight?"
Chris's shook his head. "Jake went to bat for you. He was talking to Jonson when I got here. Jake said you've had no serious problems with the other residents, no history of violence. And he emphasized there's no way you have the ability or control of your magic to create what killed Cullen."
My ineptitude was my salvation. It relieved me to hear that Jake was on my side. "They can't prove I did it, unless I make some kind of stupid incriminating statement. And if I did it unintentionally, I don't know I did, so there's nothing to confess."
"Interesting legal question," Chris said, "whether you can be held criminally responsible if you unconsciously created a spell that went on to harm someone."
"Even if they can't prove a criminal case against me, they can go after me for a civil commitment for being dangerous." As a lawyer I excelled at imagining worst-case scenarios.
Chris stood. "The best plan is for you to act normally. Don't get into any controversies. I've got one rule for you. I know how things are here. People gossip all the time. It would be easy to say something about Cullen casually. You can't make one mistake. No comments about Cullen at all. If somebody brings him up, you keep quiet."
"I'm a lawyer, not an idiot."
"Being the accused is a new role." He held his hand palm up. "Swear to the Mother of Mercy you will not speak Cullen's name. You will not respond to any comments about him."
"I may not believe in the Mother of Mercy."
He smiled, for his faith in the Mother of Mercy was a rock that kept him steady. "She believes in you."
Loki perched on Chris's shoulder. "Swear."
Chris was giving me good advice, so I should cooperate with him. I slapped my hand on top of his. I wanted to believe in the Mother of Mercy, and this could be a first step. "All right. I'll keep my mouth shut."
CHAPTER SIX
Tuesday
I kept jerking awake with the same dream—I'd been running away from a monster and plummeted over a cliff. The last time I fell asleep, I awoke with cramped muscles.
Chris had left around 3 a.m. when the cops finally decided not to arrest anybody. He thought they couldn't get around the fact that they had no proof of who created the thing that killed Cullen. While we waited for them, the nurse had checked me out and photographed my injuries.
Flat on my back on my ledge bed, I gave up on sleep when the nightmare awoke me for the fifth time. We magical people enhanced the cinder brick walls of our cells with favorite scenes, from pink and red sunsets to cars roaring around a racetrack. Recently I'd developed enough expertise to color my walls. Because it was one of my favorite colors, I'd tinted the cinder blocks royal blue. I was about to add a silver glitter when a ping from my entryway made me jump up.
Vidoc grinned at me. The younge
st staff member, he and I had a rocky start but now worked together well.
"Time for breakfast, Petra," he said. "You're not confined to your room anymore. Jake convinced the police that we have enough supervision here. Just don't push the system and try to trick the cameras."
So he knew about our camera avoidance games. As I followed him, I reviewed my action plan to make my life run smoothly. Point one: be polite and civil to everyone. Point two: be an average magical learner who could never create the thing that killed Cullen. Point three: don't do anything capable of misinterpretation.
We entered the dining room, where an oval table filled the center space. Rosy paint covered three walls. On the fourth, French doors opened onto the patio, which brimmed over with plants and herbs.
Breads, cereals, and fruits were set out on the oak sideboard. Selecting some strawberries and yogurt, I sat next to Vidoc. His translucent skin made him seem fragile. His spiky dark hair created a contrasting rakish air.
Two other residents ate breakfast. I knew them well since we frequently worked together on our spells. Opposite me, Linc Albany chomped down on a whole wheat bagel. Tall and gangly, Linc still needed to grow into his hands and feet. He peered at me with the puzzled look of a man who understands machines better than people.
On his left, Adrian, my caretaker from last night, glowered. "I bet she doesn't have the nerve to talk about what happened to Cullen."
That was her idea of a conversation starter at breakfast. Her glare bore a hole in me. I didn't want to respond to her hostility, so I kept quiet.
The atmosphere turned brittle and cold. Adrian stirred her oatmeal, clanking the spoon against the bowl. The others kept their eyes on their plates. In this prickly ambience, Dawn Farilou joined us and selected the chair on the other side of Linc. Short and chunky, she had pulled back her curly dark hair. Over the day the stubborn curls would loosen and frame her face. She smiled at me. We worked together in the kitchen, our haven from stress. I was the confidante in her romance with Linc.
Kai, Jake's other staff member, slid into the place next to me, so I was sandwiched in between authority figures. Her waist-length black hair flowed with her movements. She tapped on her juice glass. "Vidoc has an announcement."
His eyes traveled around the table. "Jake wants to provide grief counseling and support so you can continue with training on magical issues. Please see me if you need individual sessions. We're planning a group event to process your loss. To help us out with our added needs, one of the REM counselors will be here full time. He'll be working with you right after breakfast."
Linc adjusted his thick-lensed glasses. "What's his name?"
"Wyatt Leico."
Linc and Dawn looked into each other's eyes and smiled. Even though I hadn't attended the REM meetings, I'd heard that Wyatt was the REM counselor who often led the groups here. Last night, he'd directed residents back into the house when they clustered around Cullen.
Even Adrian's scowl softened. "That's not a bad choice." She raised one eyebrow at me. "He can help you with your anger issues."
Vidoc glanced around the table, gathering our attention to him. "We're lucky REM can spare him to do some programs here. Petra, I know you haven't attended REM meetings, but Wyatt said he'd encountered you in court."
Wyatt Leico had left the police department when an undercover drug bust had gone bad. Guilt over the death of the snitch had overwhelmed Wyatt. He claimed REM had saved him from his subsequent depression and drug abuse. He'd reinvented himself as a counselor and turned into one of REM's top people. The last time I'd met Wyatt in the courtroom as a prosecution witness, he'd nimbly sidestepped every trap I'd set for him on cross-examination. I tried to think of something to say about him that was politically correct and true.
"He's a worthy opponent," I announced.
Vidoc directed Linc, Dawn, Adrian, and me upstairs to the break-it room to meet with Wyatt.
On the way I paused to check a text from Ira, diff trk tday pnt circ fab. That could mean he was on a difficult/diffident truck painting circles on fabric, but I translated it to read he was on a different training track from me today, and he was painting designs on fabrics for the circus. He and several residents practiced their magic by creating intricate patterns on materials. I'd miss him.
We dysfunctional wizards released our anger and frustration in the break-it room. The walls, floor, and ceiling gleamed white. Along one wall, plates were stacked up for students to break in order to release their emotions. For further healing we had to put the pieces back together. When I used the room, I screamed each time I broke a plate. I'd had eight tantrums here. Although perhaps not documented as a well-recognized form of therapy, it felt good.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Wyatt Leico waited for us in the middle of the room. He hugged Adrian, Linc, and Dawn, who all regularly attended REM meetings. He gave my hand a firm squeeze. "Miss Rakowitz, I'm looking forward to working with you as a counselor."
About an inch taller than my five feet eight, he looked shorter because of his broad shoulders and thick arms. He wore a dazzling white shirt and red tie, rather dressy for a casual place like the ranch. Gray lines streaked through his dark hair. He had snapping black eyes, always alight and focused intently.
He smiled at Adrian. "I have a special exercise for you this morning. Let's step out into the hall, and I'll get you started."
Linc shuffled over to Dawn. He had an awkward gait for a youngish guy. Blond hair straggled over his right eye and shirt collar. He'd worked as a robotics engineer before the ranch. Things, not people, were real to him. He understood the inside of mechanical objects with one touch.
He peered at me. "Do you think I need a lawyer?"
I regarded him with surprise. When people need a lawyer, that generally means their life has gone bad. "Why do you think you need a lawyer?"
"I'm an expert in animating objects. If they start investigating our backgrounds, they're going to find out right away that I'm here because I unintentionally activated objective reality. So maybe I have the talent to create a weapon, either on purpose or not."
Dawn stroked his arm. "Linc got mad at a guy and made his phone fly around. It exploded. Linc only meant for the phone to keep ringing and drive the guy crazy."
"Wait a minute," I said. "I need to think." I'd been too upset last night to absorb what Jake and Adrian told me they saw of the scene between Cullen and me. They'd observed we were together and a shining thing had stabbed him. When I talked to residents and staff, I had to remember they hadn't seen the white bird and the black shape.
Overnight I'd realized my promise to Chris not to mention Cullen's name had been a mistake. I needed to know what people were saying about me as a suspect. I also intended to discover if anyone had a motive to harm Cullen. It would be good if the cops had suspects other than me.
Linc and Dawn stared intently, waiting for me to finish thinking.
I nodded at them. "Linc, if you could use magic to create the spear that killed Cullen, obviously you could be a suspect, but your magical talents aren't that relevant if you had no strong motive to harm Cullen. Do you really think the cops are targeting you?" I knew Cullen and Dawn had been involved, but that was months ago, before I came to the ranch. Had Cullen recently flirted with Dawn and aroused Linc's jealousy?
Linc adjusted his glasses. "They didn't talk to us much last night, just took brief statements about where we were when it happened. I guess I'm concerned about the cops finding out I ever had any issues with Cullen."
Dawn's face scrunched up. "They said other cops, detectives or something, are going to come snooping around this afternoon."
"If you're worried you might be a suspect," I said, "it wouldn't hurt to have a lawyer." I narrowed my gaze on Linc. "Can we clarify whether anything has happened lately to cause problems between you and Cullen?"
Before Linc could answer, Wyatt strode back in carrying three black feathers.
Curious about whether Linc's i
ssues with Cullen amounted to a motive for murder, I planned to follow up when the lesson finished.
Wyatt gestured for us to sit on chairs placed in the middle of each of the three walls. "Dawn, Linc, you know me through the REM meetings and our search for the spiritual joy of magic." His deep voice had a rough edge to it, a growl that grabbed attention. "Miss Rakowitz, may I call you Petra?" At my nod he continued. "You only know me from court. As a wizard my specialty is manipulating objects. I shapeshift things." He said, "Change," and flicked a finger at the feathers, which he'd deposited on the floor. They transformed into a flower, an onion, and a silver bullet. "Jake has told me generally where you are in your treatment plans, and I'm going to have you each do a spell here so I can observe your magic in practice."
I wiped my hands on my jeans. My stomach cramped with nerves, as if I were about to go into court on an important case. Dawn and Linc looked calm. They'd been doing spells ever since they were eleven or twelve, when wizards usually first manifested their powers, whereas I'd only been aware of my magic ability for two months. I was still going through the basic training they'd received as kids.
Wyatt's eyes rested on me. "Petra, this is not an exam you pass or fail. Relax. If you do something wrong, that tells me where you need work."
I wanted to think of him as a well-meaning counselor, but the intentness of his stare and the strong line of his jaw said I'm a cop. As a citizen I'm fine with cops. As a defense attorney I regard cops as the enemy. To look at ease I let my hands flop onto my lap.
Wyatt nodded at the three objects on the floor. They reformed into black feathers and moved five feet in front of each of us. Since he didn't say any spell words, I assumed he used mental communication to create magic, the talent of a highly skilled wizard.
"I'm going to turn off the lights," Wyatt explained. "Before I do, take a good look at where everything is located in this room. Once the lights are out, I'll give you a few moments for your eyes to adjust to the dark."
Murder Lifts the Spirits Page 3
