Sorceress, Interrupted - By A. J. Menden Page 0,26
knew what I was doing. “I guess you are older than dirt, Fantazia.”
“Can you two please stop flirting?” Joseph interjected, looking like he’d cheerfully strangle us.
“We’re not flirting,” I snapped. I flirted with anything male I could find, but somehow Cyrus kept trying to engage me on a more personal level. That went beyond flirting and quite frankly scared me. No thanks.
“As if I’d bother,” Cyrus said, and instantly whatever had existed between us a moment before was gone.
Joseph glared at me. “At least act like you care about helping my brother and help me get him back to the Elite Hands of Justice. This is the last time I ask for your help with anything, Fantazia.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Then again, mortals were like this: unpredictable and ungrateful. That’s why I’d vanished into my own dimension for a few centuries. “Oh, please make that threat into a promise, Joseph.”
But as I worked the spell to transport the three of us and the unconscious Donald back to safety, I couldn’t help but be bothered by something else, someone else. It wasn’t like I had some deep, burning desire to be wanted by Cyrus, much less to engage on the level he seemed to want, but I couldn’t help but be a bit insulted as soon as he seemed no longer interested. Was it just my craving for male attention, or was it something else entirely? Then we were back at the EHJ headquarters with the alarms predictably screaming around us.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The Reincarnist sat quietly listening to us recap the events of the night before. Joseph sat at his brother’s bedside. It was the next day.
Not much had been discussed last night. Immediately upon our return, Wesley had given Donald a magical version of anesthesia so he could be sure the man wouldn’t attack him during an examination. Donald had reacted strangely, falling into a deeper coma than Wesley intended, and Joseph had stayed by his bedside all night. From the looks of his rumpled state, my father had done much the same. I myself had gone home to sleep.
“So what did you find out, boss?” Cyrus asked. I noticed that during his recap he hadn’t repeated Joseph’s accusation of us flirting. But, why was I letting his omission bother me? I knocked the annoying thought out of my head with a quick shake.
Wesley sighed. “The wounds from the attacks on Joseph and Donald and Edgar look the same from my diagnostic spell. It seems like the exact same magic is being used in each case, though it’s hard to tell if the spell is being cast by the same person. I don’t know if that’s because the magic is channeled through technology or what, but the genetic signatures attached to the spells are distorted. It’s like a criminal wearing gloves or wiping fingerprints off a weapon.”
“Can you fix it? Clean up the signature or whatever?” Cyrus asked.
Wesley sighed again. “I might be able to. I’ll keep studying it and trying to cross-reference it against magic-user records in our system, double-checked against those who fit the profile, but anyone capable of casting this spell should be someone already flagged for us to keep a close eye on. This is just . . . baffling.”
“Couldn’t it be someone new?” Cyrus asked. “I’m telling you, I know all of the techno mages, and I don’t know anyone powerful enough to do this. It has to be someone new.”
Wesley smiled. “I hate to tell you this, Cyrus, but we keep an eye out on every magic-user. I do personally. And if it’s someone new, like a kid—”
“I wouldn’t want to meet that kid,” I interjected. “To be able to do this already they’d be—”
“As powerful as my daughter,” Wesley finished.
I hadn’t planned on going there, but yes, Emily was going to be one truly scary teenager someday. She’d make whoever was doing this look like a level-one magic-user. We both let that thought go unspoken.
“So you keep track of every magic-user? Even the law-abiders? That explains a lot.” Cyrus rubbed his chin in thought. “Though, I can’t imagine how you do it. I must say, it is interesting, being on this side of the crime.”
“So glad my brother’s injury has enlightened you,” Joseph said from the other side of the room.
Wesley straightened. “I will do everything I can to help him, Joseph, but I can’t guarantee that he’ll wake up or what mental state he’ll be in if he does. We’re