The Fantastic Fluke - Sam Burns Page 0,101

to my own ears, but puzzle pieces were coming together with speed that left me breathless.

Oh gods, it all fit together so perfectly, didn’t it?

I’d thought David was looking into the murders of mages, and maybe he was, but he was also an Aurora Aureum Quaesitor. He had access to records and information that other people didn’t.

He’d been the only person who questioned my ability to draw a familiar, and he’d done so over and over. On some level, he must have known all along that Fluke’s appearance meant something had changed in me. Everyone else had taken it in stride when a thirty-year-old man had found a familiar, most of them realizing what Fluke was before I did and not having a problem with it. He’d been the only one concerned, a concern that Fluke had disliked.

Fuck, why hadn’t I listened to my familiar?

I will never dismiss your opinion again, buddy, I mentally promised him.

He sighed and shook his head as he slipped his hand into his pocket. “I wasn’t just feeling you out to see if you were suspicious of me when I asked you out, you know? I’ve been trying to flirt with you for years, but you never seemed to notice.”

“I figured you just acted that way with everyone,” I told him honestly. “I had no idea. David, what the hell are you—”

“Isn’t that the way of it?” he asked, a bitter smile on his face. “You try to be a nice guy, and all the gorgeous people ignore you. Would you have said yes if I’d driven a motorcycle and been covered in tattoos?”

Was he fucking kidding? What in the fresh fedora hell was this?

Part of my brain pointed out that tattoos and a motorcycle weren’t really my thing. More like a long leather duster and spurs.

That was when he pulled out the pocketknife and flipped it open. “They say you’ve got to bleed a witch. It’s messy. The Adler woman made it difficult. I don’t want this to be ugly, Sage.”

“A witch?” I asked. I realized I had backed into the broom cupboard and braced my legs to stop moving.

He motioned to me, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “A witch. Someone who manipulates natural forces that shouldn’t be played with. Some of the others believe in all that ‘deal with the devil’ nonsense, but that’s not it. You put us all in danger by fooling with ley lines. They’re dangerous.” He motioned through the wall in the direction of the greasy mess that had once been a person. “Lina Merton? I suspected she was the one killing mages. Low level mages of her specialty are always a risk.”

“You suspected her, but weren’t trying to stop her?” What the hell? My back stiffened and I stood straight up, my jaw clenching as I stared at him. Could he have kept Kurt from being killed? The victims before Kurt? What kind of monster had I spent years thinking of as a sweet guy, wishing I could find him attractive?

He shrugged. “I figured eventually she’d lead me to the witch. She would be able to see their power, and someone burning out mages to steal their magic wouldn’t be able to resist that. Only the Believers understand that witches aren’t like us.”

“I’m not a witch,” I denied, even though by his bizarre definition, I most certainly was.

He was wrong, though. The magic was the same. Okay, well no, it was different, but it was also the same. It was more adaptable, but learning to use it had been the same as learning magic the first time. I shook my head, slowly at first then faster, finally stopping with a hand to my forehead, dizzy. Reaching out for the frame of the broom closet door, I braced myself upright and looked back to David.

Still there. Damn, I’d been half hoping for a hallucination.

“I wish that were true,” he sighed, shaking his head and starting toward me. “I really wanted you, Sage. But the old religion had it right. Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live.”

“Oh you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” I said, glaring at him with all the emotion I had left. It wasn’t much; I was running on freaking empty. Still, he stopped in his tracks and stared in shock. “What? You start spouting ridiculous dogma and I’m not allowed to be disgusted?”

“It’s not dogma,” he denied with a scowl, slashing his free hand through the air. His eyes

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