"I am no expert on magic," Azriel said. "But I suspect it would not. The ley-line gate might have been created by a coalition, but I have no doubt they would have ensured it drew its power from the ley intersection itself. No human could create – even through black magic – enough magic to keep a portal onto the fields active for long."
"Damn." So much for the hope that Lucian's death might have some benefit other than just permanently getting the bastard out of my life.
I glanced at Stane, who had a somewhat bemused expression on his face. But then, while he was familiar with our key search, he had no idea what we were talking about when it came to the magic-twisted half shifters. And I didn't bother enlightening him. "Do you still have access to the security cam records of that storage place in Clifton Hill?"
"Yes, but didn't that place blow up?"
I nodded. "I want to have a look at the hours between you first contacting me about Genevieve Sands entering the building and the building blowing up."
"Sure thing." He grinned. "But you can make me a coffee and something to eat while I hunt them down again."
"Deal." I pushed to my feet and made us both a toasted Vegemite and cheese sandwich – he didn't have much else in his fridge – and by the time I'd deposited both that and a mug of coffee in front of Stane, he'd found the records and had relayed them to another screen.
I pulled up a chair and watched as I munched on my meal.
"What are we looking for?" Stane said, as he scooted his chair next to mine.
"Me."
He blinked and looked confused. "Why are we looking for you? Don't you remember going there?"
I grinned. "Yes. But something the receptionist said to me before she died —"
"You were in there when the place exploded?" Stane interrupted, his voice incredulous. "Are you insane?"
"That is a much debated point," Azriel commented dryly.
The peanut gallery can keep those sort of remarks to themselves, I said, amused.