Disclaimer: See Chapter 1
Chapter 2: Two Heads are Better than One
It was three days later that Rachel finally called me. I had spent the intervening time trying to concentrate on my work, jumping every time the phone rang, and then being disappointed when it wasn't Rachel with new developments on the case.
It was Sunday afternoon, and I was in my garden relaxing with a cup of tea. I heard footsteps approaching and looked back to see Quen. He handed me a cordless phone.
"It's Miss Morgan."
"Thank you," I murmured, taking the phone and putting it to my ear. "Hello?"
"Hey, Trent, it's me," she said. She sounded tired, oddly enough. "I did a bunch of research, and basically I found nothing. I looked online, in all my books, even checked Big Al's library on the sly."
I felt my blood chill at that name. It was her pet name for a demon that had once tried to kill us both. She now had a working relationship with the filthy creature. Worse, she visited it in the Ever-After once a week, though she said that was part of the bargain she made to save me from being sold as a familiar. Now that was something I didn't want to think about.
Rachel had continued talking, and I belatedly focused on her. "...any documented spell anywhere that would make us bicker."
I felt my shoulders slump. "You're sure?" I asked quietly.
"Oh, cheer up, Trent. There's still hope. Apparently every couple of hundred years someone will figure out a new spell. Sometimes even more often than that. And most of these spells get kept secret, I mean it depends on the kind of spell, but if it's really horrible black magic, or just useful, they'll keep it to themselves."
That would be one possible way to explain this, but it just seemed too incredible. "Rachel, don't you think I'd know if people were still inventing new spells? I'd be all over that. I'd have a laboratory of magical geniuses working around the clock. Believe me, I've got very good information and contacts. No," I said, certain, "I'd know if that were the case. I'm sorry."
"You're wrong, Trent," she said, frustration evident in her tone. "Almost nobody knows about it. As in I got the information from Al. Apparently he knows a guy whose familiar made a spell before getting taken. It's rare, but it happens. After all, the spells we use all the time had to come from somewhere, right? And you've heard of Merlin, from the stories about King Arthur? According to Al he was some kind of magical genius, invented seven spells in his lifetime."
I interrupted her. "Fine, I'll take your word for it. But what good does that do us?"
"Got it covered," she said smugly. "We just have to take a different approach. Whatever this spell is, it most likely needs some kind of focus to make it work, especially over such a long period of time. We need to look for something, probably something perfectly mundane, in your office or nearby. It has to be something that was present every time we've argued."
"No, that's not possible. Quen sweeps the entire place for magic that doesn't belong there every week. It can't possibly be anything on my property." A thought occurred to me. "It definitely isn't on my estate. Do you remember meeting me at Eden Park? We were definitely arguing like usual then."
"Right," she exclaimed, "You're right, it must be something one of us had then, and every other time. What do you always wear, Trent? A watch, a certain pair of shoes, I don't know, your lucky underwear?"
I rolled my eyes at her crudeness. "I usually wear the same watch. I'll have it checked. But what about you?"
"I've been thinking about that too," she replied a bit defensively. "The only jewelry I always wear is my ring. I don't wear a watch...hey, how about a belt? Is there a belt you wear all the time?"
"No, there isn't," I replied. "You should check your ring to see if it's been spelled. If you bring it here I'll have it done for you." I didn't know what caliber of spell detector she would have, but I doubted it could be anywhere near as good as mine.
"Well, of course it's been spelled!" she said hotly.
"Really," I said, "you have it spelled? With what?" I didn't let it show, but it bothered me that I'd snitched it from her once without knowing it was spelled.
She mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like "hides freckles" and I smirked. How conceited of her. I bet she'd hate for people to know she had freckles and hid them. I held out for a moment but finally gave in to temptation.
"Freckles, Rachel? Don't you think that's a bit...vain?"
"I don't have freckles anymore!" she said, and paused, her bluster evaporating. "Though I'd rather I had them back in trade for this smut." She sounded depressed now.
"Then why'd you do it?" I asked, curious.
"I didn't do a demon curse to get rid of my freckles, dammit! It was a side-effect of a spell I used to save my boyfriend's life."
I couldn't think of a good response to that, so instead I said, "If you don't have freckles any more, why do you still wear that ring?"
She sighed. "It was a gift from my dad. He got a lifetime spell renewal on it, so I just have to get it redone every year."
"But why would you get it done? You just said you don't have any freckles to hide."
"Well, I might get some new ones, you know."
I chuckled at that. "Perhaps, but we've gotten a bit off-topic. Is there anything else you wear all the time, or at least for meeting with me?"
"Nothing I can think of. Why don't you go ahead and check your watch?"
I rolled my eyes at her impatience but stood up. Much as I'd expected, Quen was nearby, far enough to not eavesdrop on my conversation but within sight and hailing distance. I waved at him, and he started jogging toward me. "Hold on," I said to Rachel, then set the phone down on the bench.
Quen stopped before me as I straightened up. "What is it, Sa'han?"
"I wanted to ask, when you sweep the house for unfriendly magic, do you usually get my watch at some point?" I tugged up the sleeve of my dress shirt for emphasis, showing off the watch in question.
I saw Quen wince and knew the answer before he spoke. "I am very sorry, Sa'han, it had not occurred to me to check it."
I clasped his shoulder. "Neither did I, it was Rachel's suggestion, as a matter of fact. But never mind that, let's check it out."
We walked together in silence until we reached Quen's office. I waited as he unlocked a file drawer and removed two small objects, one a wooden disc and the other a silver charm. I took my watch off and set it on the desk.
I watched as Quen slowly waved first one, then the other spell detector over the watch. Both of them indicated the same thing: my watch had no spells on it.
I sighed. I was glad that my favorite watch hadn't been spelled, but I had so been hoping to find a spell that would make Rachel and me fight. I thanked Quen and returned to my garden, seating myself and leaning back before picking up the phone.
"Still there, Rachel?"
"Yeah, I'm here. How's your watch?"
"Completely spell-free, I'm afraid."
"You know," she said wistfully, "I was really hoping there was an easy explanation for why we always bicker."
I thought to myself that she just didn't want to take responsibility for her childish behavior, but tactfully didn't say so. "I don't suppose you have any more ideas?"
She hesitated for several seconds, then said, "Well, actually...I mean, if I did a spell check on my ring, I would expect it to show there's a spell. But it wouldn't tell me if there's more than one. So, maybe it's the perfect hiding place. A spell on top of another spell, disguising it." Her voice was growing firmer, more sure. "I'm going to talk to the witch who spells my ring every year. She'd be able to get access to it easily enough."
"Don't forget, I stole your ring without you even knowing. Someone else might have done the same, spelled it and brought it back before you noticed it was missing."
"Maybe," she said. Was it my imagination or did she sound a bit grouchy? "But that wouldn't work as well. When it's re-spelled they remove the remnants of the old spell, and that would also remove any other spell on it. The most effective way to do it is both at once."
"Very well, then," I replied, "but you aren't going to talk to this woman. I'll go. Whether she's doing it for her own reasons or was put up to it by someone else, you'll need more clout than you have to get the truth out of her."
She started to protest, but I cut her off. "Be logical. If you confront her but can't get her to open up, she may disappear before I can lean on her. Tell me who she is, and I'll go and talk to her about it."
She seemed ready to protest for a few seconds, but eventually she saw reason and gave up. "It's Sheffield's Charms. And I don't want you to go and kill the poor woman, okay?"
"I had no intention," I said, miffed. "I need her alive so she can fix the damage she's done. Plus there's no guarantee she's the culprit."
"Whatever, is that all?" she asked, trying to sound bored. I smiled to myself. She was mad that I was cutting in on her run. There was no help for it, though; I was the man for this job.
"That's all for now. I'll call you tomorrow."
"Right, bye then."
I ended the call and dropped the phone on the bench, tipping my head back and stretching my arms. Feeling better, I stood up, grabbed the portable phone, and headed off to find Quen and tell him we'd be visiting Sheffield's Charms tomorrow.
A little more dialogue-heavy this time. Hope it wasn't too much. Anyway, your input would be much appreciated.
