Scorched by Magic (The Baine Chronicles #7)(12)

“No, unfortunately,” Lamar admitted, sounding very put out. “It was very crowded yesterday, and the person who did it was not close, so I couldn’t figure out the source.” Even so, he gave me as many details as he could about the incident, and I wrote it all down with a promise to investigate further into the matter.

“It may take some time,” I finally said, closing my notebook. “In the meantime, I suggest you write up a list of damages and mail it to me at the Palace. As soon as the culprit is caught, you will be compensated for your loss.”

The man didn’t seem entirely pleased with the idea that he would have to wait, but he thanked me nevertheless and took his leave. I really did feel bad for him, and part of me was tempted to just compensate Lamar myself. I could easily afford to. But if word got out that I was personally compensating damages, I would be inundated with an endless series of fictitious claims.

I checked the mirror again and saw there was another person waiting patiently in the lobby—a male human clutching a large cardboard map.

“Some kind of artist, maybe?” Rylan asked, looking over my shoulder.

“Not sure. Let’s bring him—”

Something crashed into the front wall of the house, rocking the very foundations of the building. I grabbed the edge of the desk with one hand and watched, absolutely horrified, as the tall rollers of a huge road-paving machine burst through the drywall, whirring madly and spraying chunks of brick and plaster everywhere.

In the next second, I was out of my chair and down the hall, Rylan hot on my heels. He went for the receptionist, who was huddled fearfully behind the desk, and I grabbed the male petitioner and flung him toward the back of the house and out of harm’s way.

“My map,” he shouted, eyes wide, but I only shoved him.

“Run! There’s a back entrance—get out of here!” Not waiting to see if he obeyed, I turned my attention back to the machine and conjured a magical barrier. The machine halted halfway into the waiting room, its wheels spinning loosely, but I knew it wouldn’t hold for long—the barrier was really meant for magical attacks.

“Get to the humans, Naya,” Rylan shouted as he took a flying leap toward the machine. He passed through the barrier easily, landing on the rollers, and scrambled upward to the cab. He wrenched the door open, threw the driver—a human male—out, then jumped down into the street after him.

The barrier failed, and the machine lurched forward, still in gear. My heart leapt into my throat, and I sprinted for the back door. The vehicle belched thick gusts of steam as it rampaged through the house behind me, crushing the thin walls as though they were made of straw. I flung open the door, then grabbed the hands of the two humans and dragged them across the street, well clear of the machine.

“By the Ur-God,” the man breathed, his mouth agape as he watched the machine roll out the back wall of the house, toward the neighbor’s backyard. The structure was completely destroyed. “It’s still running!”

Before I could respond, the man dashed across the street, back toward the huge steam engine. I shouted a warning, but he ignored me, jumping onto the metal ladder on the side of the machine. I watched with no small amount of admiration as he hoisted himself into the open cab and fiddled with the controls. Just a few yards from the neighboring house, the vehicle let out one final belch of steam, and then died.

“Are you all right?” I turned my attention to the receptionist, who nodded numbly. Her blue eyes were glassy, her cheeks pale—she was in shock. I took her face in my hands and asked her some questions—her name, what day of the week it was, where we were. It took her a few seconds to shake off the initial shock, but once she did, she answered normally, allaying my fears that she might have a concussion.

Rylan approached from around the side of the demolished house, his expression grave. “The driver is dead,” he said grimly. “Broke his neck in the fall.”

“Dammit.” I clenched my jaw. I’d been hoping to interrogate the bastard, find out who’d put him up to this. But I wasn’t going to berate Rylan—he’d just been doing his job. There hadn’t been time to think about subtle nuances like making sure our attacker didn’t get killed.

“Looks like our new friend here saved the day,” Rylan remarked, turning toward the man climbing down from the cab. I had to admit that with his tousled chestnut hair and his red coat flapping in the wind, he looked rather like a dashing hero from a romance novel. As he approached us, I took note of his tanned skin, sapphire-blue eyes, and symmetrical features, which were currently drawn tight with worry.

“That was a close call,” he said, brushing his windswept hair out of his eyes. He gave me a tight smile. “Thank you for getting me out of harm’s way, Miss Baine. I would have been crushed if not for you.”

“You’re welcome,” I said, ignoring the pang of guilt in my chest. I had little doubt that attack was meant for me, and that if this man hadn’t come to see me, he never would have been in harm’s way. But there was no point in dwelling on it. “And your name is…”

“Kardanor Makis, at your service.” He bowed. “I’m an architect, and I came to see you regarding a matter of public safety.”

“Oh?” I had been about to tell him that we should reschedule, but his words stopped me in my tracks. “Is this about the quakes?”