I glanced at him. "What?"
"You wondered what the guard saw me as. I answered."
"Why would a guard see you as a businessman?"
He shrugged. "Perhaps he has high expectations of death."
I snorted softly. "I have high expectations of death, but he continually disappoints me."
"Then don’t have expectations," he said, either ignoring the jibe or not getting it. He was staring at the floor indicator like he’d never seen one before. "I speak with experience when I say it’s easier that way. And what I’ve never seen before is the type of magic that protects this elevator."
I blinked. "It’s protected by magic?"
He nodded. "A fairly old spell, by the feel of it. And very powerful."
I glanced at our chrome-and-glass surrounds but couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary. Then again, I wasn’t usually sensitive to magic, so that really wasn’t surprising. "What’s the difference between a new spell and an older one?"
He glanced at me. "The age of the practitioner?"
Laughter bubbled through me. "Oh my God, you just made a joke! I can’t believe it."
"I merely told the truth." But that twinkle was back in his eyes.
Was my reaper getting more human, or was I merely getting more used to him? And why was I even wondering that when the man was obviously following my thoughts? "Can you tell what it’s designed to do?"
He shrugged. "It’s some sort of protection spell. More than that, though, I can’t say."
I frowned. "But if she’s got protection spells here, then she’s probably got them in her apartment, too. So how was she attacked?"