Death Magic - By Eileen Wilks Page 0,128

number for Fagin’s safety-deposit box. His thumb drive’s there, with a copy of his translation. He’s supposed to contact his attorney about getting the thumb drive. Here’s the safe deposit number and his lawyer’s contact info.” She handed him a sheet of paper with the information. “Talk to her.”

He grinned. “Guess it was worth listening to you, after all.” He pushed his chair back.

“Sit. I’m not finished with you.” She looked at the others. “One of the problems with the Bixton case has been the level of magical expertise required to make the dagger. If it’s elven work, that solves the problem. Rethna could’ve made it for Friar long before we came on the scene and spoiled his plans. He could have made other things for Friar, too. Things we haven’t run up against yet.”

Karonski’s eyebrows shot up. “Rethna’s the elf lord you two killed last month.”

It had been Arjenie’s sister who actually killed him, but Lily nodded.

“And you like the idea that he might have made all kinds of heavy-duty magical shit for Friar?”

“I like the idea of knowing what we’re up against. I like the idea that the guy who enspelled that dagger isn’t around to make more. If I’m right, whatever Friar’s planning, his best magical tools and assets are limited to stuff he’s already got. And I was thinking . . . maybe Rethna made a disguise charm for whoever impersonated Ruben. Elves and illusion go together, right?”

But Cullen was shaking his head. “I can’t rule that out a hundred percent, but I really doubt Rethna was good enough at illusion to transfer a solid one to a charm.”

“Why not?” she demanded.

“Partly because of how his magic looked—which is a damned unsatisfactory answer, I know.” He looked frustrated, as if he didn’t like it much, either. “But in addition to that, Rethna’s specialty was body magic. Ah . . . something you need to know about elves. The nobility, anyway. They all have a bit of glamour, which is a type of illusion magic. Some of them go on to develop that enough to cast full illusions. And they’ve all got a bit of body magic, enough to heal themselves and change their own bodies to some extent. All those pretty hair colors? They aren’t born with baby blue hair.”

“Like that spell that elf lady gave Cynna to turn her permanently blond. That’s body magic?”

“That’s right. Some elves go on to develop their body magic enough to affect the bodies of others. But body magic and illusion are two very different types of magic. The more you develop one, the harder it is to work the other. It may be different with the High Sidhe,” Cullen admitted. “Probably is, but we aren’t talking about High Sidhe. We’re talking about Rethna. He was aces at body magic, so it’s unlikely he could do much with illusion. It would be like a Water Gifted trying to work Fire spells. With a lot of work he might learn a few of the simple ones, but he’d never be that good at them. He’d sure as hell never call Fire.” Cullen waved his hand. For a few seconds tiny flames danced there, then puffed out.

Lily nodded. “Then if Rethna was really good at body magic, could he have changed someone to look like Ruben?”

“Probably. I very much doubt he could’ve made someone smell like Ruben, though.”

“The maid didn’t say anything about Bixton’s visitor smelling like Ruben,” she said dryly.

Rule answered instead of Cullen. “Matt did.”

She swung to face him, frowning. “I don’t know Matt. Who—no, wait, I remember. You were going to send someone to check out the trail I followed into that park across from Bixton’s house. That was Matt?”

“He’s Cynyr, one of those who’ve been guarding Ruben. He knows Ruben’s scent and he has an unusually good nose, even when two-footed. I heard from him this morning. He found Ruben’s scent on that bench in the park.”

“But that’s crazy.”

“Actually,” Cullen said, “it’s not. Though I just finished putting together ... can’t call it proof, but supportive evidence for my theory. Which I’m warning you is pretty wild, but the trigger on that dagger wasn’t just meant to be used by a null. It was made to be used by a magical construct.”

She blinked. “And that helps you how?”

“I think Friar used a doppelgänger of Ruben.”

A dopplegänger? “Uh . . . isn’t that some kind of ghostly double, a harbinger of death? You see your doppelgänger and you die.

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