Burned by Magic (The Baine Chronicles #1)(64)

I stood up and shrugged my jacket back on. “I dunno. But I’m definitely gonna give it a shot.”





Chapter Eighteen




I told Comenius to keep an eye out for Inspector Lakin and give him the case file, and then hustled back to Solantha Palace as fast as I could. The plan was to browbeat the Chief Mage with my findings and demand he grant Noria’s friend amnesty, so that we could get our hands on that evidence. Unfortunately, traffic turned out to be horrendous, so I gave up trying to maneuver my steambike through all the cars and parked in Nob Hill, a hoity-toity area of Rowanville where people strolled the sidewalks wearing fancy togs while oohing and aahing over the objects displayed in boutique windows. I looked out of place in my black pants and leather jacket, stepping around two female humans in brightly colored dresses and wide brimmed hats dripping in jewelry, but since I wasn’t here to see and be seen I ducked into a café and ordered some food.

The place was a lot more cutesy than I liked, done in pastel blue and white with owl decorations scattered everywhere, but the bacon cheeseburger with onion rings sounded good enough, so I ordered, forking over some of the few measly coppers I’d found amongst my delivered belongings. As I sat down at the bar to wait for my grub, I noticed someone had left a copy of the Herald on the counter. It looked like the owner had ditched it, so I slid the paper over to my side of the bar and started flipping through the pages.

SHOULD SHIFTERS BE BANNED FROM MAINTOWN? COUNCIL DEBATES.

I froze as the headline on page three caught my eye. Next to it was a black-and-white photograph of a snarling wolf shifter in human form, his fangs and claws extended. Anger bubbled up inside me as I stared at the photograph – likely it was just some shifter teen who’d been asked to pose for a couple of bucks. Fucking sell-outs. My burger arrived on the counter, and I snatched it up and munched on it, bacon grease coating my fingers as I read.

With the recent slew of shifter-human fighting, the Maintown Council is seriously debating whether or not shifters should continue to be allowed to work and interact with our community. Only yesterday, a raven shifter attacked his boss, hardware shop owner Antano Lopkin, simply for asking him to put a broom away. The crazed shifter, who was later discovered to be under the influence of narcotics, reportedly took the broom and proceeded to shove…

I skimmed over the next couple of paragraphs detailing all the recent drug-fueled crimes committed by shifters, knowing that I was liable to start shredding the paper with my claws if I started reading them.

Some have suggested that new shifter drugs hitting the black market are responsible for these outbreaks, rather than the shifters themselves. However, experts suggest that these drugs are merely exposing the inherent weakness of the shifter psyche. It has long been known that shifters are emotionally unstable, hardly surprising when one considers that they originated as a hybrid species several thousand years ago. If this weren’t the case, human crime would be skyrocketing in relation to the amount of drug trafficking as well.

I raked my claws through the paper, furious beyond belief at the writer’s audacity. Human drug addicts committed plenty of crimes while under the influence! I’d dealt with dozens of strung-out addicts during my time as an Enforcer, and knew from experience that these bastards would do anything, and I mean anything, for a hit when they were hard up for drugs. This wasn’t reporting at all, but a hit piece. Whoever had written this article was intentionally trying to paint shifters in a negative light.

I scanned the shredded article for the byline, which had miraculously survived my claws. A tick started in my jaw as I recognized the name – Hanley Fintz. The same reporter who had tried to interview me in my cell the night before my hearing. The man who’d told me he was sympathetic to shifters and would try to paint me in a positive light.

Apparently he’d lied.



Two human guards jerked to attention as I strode through the revolving door of the Herald’s offices – a large circular white building in the heart of Maintown. Ignoring them, I made a beeline for the white reception desk that stood in the middle of the gleaming white lobby, and slapped my hand down on the counter to get the attention of the curly-haired brunette manning the desk.

Not that I really needed to get her attention – her wide-eyed gaze had been on me the moment I walked through the door.

“C-can I help you?” she stuttered, her oval face pale. Clearly she wasn’t used to seeing shifters in the office much – that, or she was worried that we were all going to come and riot right here in the Herald because of all the shitty propaganda they’d been writing against us.

“You sure can.” I gave her a gamine grin, resisting the urge to show some fang – the guards’ hands were already too close to their swords, and I didn’t need some reporter snapping a picture of me brawling right here in the Herald’s office. “I’m here to see Hanley Fintz.”

“I see.” The receptionist’s plump lips thinned, as if I’d confirmed her suspicions. “I’m afraid he’s not taking any visitors right now –”

“He’ll see me.” I held up my wrist so the woman could see my Enforcer bracelet. “This is regarding an investigation.”

The woman’s face whitened even more as she leaned closer to inspect the bronze shield on my wrist. As she did, my nerves began to itch – I didn’t know how smart it was for me to barge in here by myself, with no backup. As soon as I’d realized that Fintz must be connected to all this bullshit, I’d rushed over right away, wanting to catch the bastard before he left his office.