Burned by Magic (The Baine Chronicles #1)(52)

He reached beneath the collar of his coat and pulled out a golden medallion. My heart constricted as I caught sight of the fang symbol stamped into the center, as well as the runes that danced around the edges of the circle – it was the same one Roanas had worn.

“Convinced?”

I stared deep into his eyes. Unlike the other members of my former clan, Inspector Lakin’s eyes held no contempt when he looked at me, and they should have. I was an outsider, an abomination by my aunt Mafiela’s standards, and whatever she said, the rest of the clan followed.

“You’re not from around here, are you?”

Inspector Lakin shook his head. “I’m a transplant from the Jaguar clan in Pardas,” he admitted, referring to a capital city in one of the northwestern states. “I used to be the Inspector up there, but I felt like a change of scenery, and I had a deputy who was more than willing to fill my shoes.”

“Must be nice,” I muttered, shoving my hands into my jacket pockets. If I hadn’t been a hybrid, I would have been the one to fill Roanas’s shoes – I was more than capable between the training that I’d received from him and my experience as an Enforcer. “Fresh start, new life.”

I’d thought about that myself once or twice – just packing up and moving somewhere else where nobody knew who I was. Sure, any shifter with a good nose could still tell I was a hybrid, but not that I was a mage if I didn’t use my magic, and there were states, or at least cities, in the Northia Federation where half-human shifters were welcome. But any chance of that happening was gone now that my magic was public knowledge – my case was unique enough that news of my apprentice status would eventually spread across the country, at least amongst mage circles.

“Yeah.” Inspector Lakin stared at me for a long moment. “I’m sorry for your loss. From what I hear, you two were close.”

I snorted. “You’re not sorry for my loss. You’re just exchanging pleasantries while beating around the bush. Why don’t you tell me the real reason you came here to intrude on me while I’m paying my respects?”

Inspector Lakin’s eyes gleamed. “I see the rumors about you having a smart mouth are true.”

I jutted my chin out. “Yeah? You got a problem with that?”

Lakin only shrugged. “The reason I approached you is because I was going through Roanas’s case files and I noticed that he didn’t seem to have a file regarding these silver poisonings.” His eyes narrowed. “From everything I’ve heard of him, he was good at what he did. I don’t see how he would have forgotten to put a file together.”

“Not really sure what this has to do with me.”

“You were the last one to see Roanas alive.”

“I don’t have his case file.” Not a lie. I sent a mental thank-you to Comenius; I’d left the file at his shop before responding to the emergency call that had gotten me into so much trouble.

“But you know where it is.”

I said nothing.

“You know that I could have you brought before the Council for willfully hiding evidence.” His voice lowered into a dangerous growl. “This isn’t just about Roanas, Miss Baine. This is about getting justice for all the shifters who have died at the hands of this monster, and stopping him from hurting anyone else.”

I laughed bitterly. “I belong to no clan, and I’m a quasi-member of the Mage’s Guild now. I don’t think you actually can drag me before the Council.”

Lakin opened his mouth to answer, but the medallion around his neck lit up, bathing his throat in a golden glow. Emergency reported at 1922 Third Street, a metallic voice said. Doctor on scene. Please respond.

Lakin’s face whitened at the same time the blood drained from mine. That was my aunt Mafiela’s house.

He sprinted for the street, where a sleek silver steambike was parked in front of mine. I hesitated for only a second before racing after him. He peeled out into the road with a shrill whistle from the engine, and I followed right after. If this was connected in any way to the silver poisonings, I had to know.



Third Street was all the way on the other side of Shiftertown, near the bay where the more affluent shifters lived. Lakin parked in front of my aunt’s residence, a three-story house with grey siding, dark purple roof tiling, and matching purple shutters. A horse-drawn carriage was already parked at the curb in front of the steps. The front door was wide open, and the sound of a woman wailing was clearly audible from the street.

“Stay out here,” Lakin snapped as he ripped off his helmet. He raced up the steps and into the house. I followed after him, knowing he didn’t have the time to stand around and argue with me.

We found the source of the wailing in the parlor, where a veritable party of shifters were gathered, dressed in dinner finery. I recognized them all – this was the shifter Council and their respective families, likely all here at my aunt’s house for some kind of social event. They were gathered in a circle around a low couch, where a man lay with marble skin that looked like death. He had rich, dark brown hair and was wearing a gold waistcoat, white linen shirt and white slacks. I recognized him instantly as Corin Finehorn – the head of the Deer Clan, and one of the five council members.

“No!” Larana, Finehorn’s wife wailed, clutching her mate’s hand. She wore a dark green dress, gold jewelry dripping from her ears and throat. “It can’t be. He can’t be gone!”