Friday. 3:50 PM

We waited in an easy silence while the woman closed the door and disappeared inside.

“How’d you know it was an illusion?” Ben asked.

“We were making too many leaps in logic,” I explained. “Even if there was a monster, my instincts were screaming at me to do something that was strangely specific, and not very smart. Running back to the truck would be a bad idea, but that was our first impulse.”

“It makes for a hell of a security system,” Ben looked around, as though checking for whatever had broadcast the fear signal. “Scared the crap out of me.”

“And if you don’t know magic is real, that just makes it all the stronger,” I said. “Probably keeps kids from poking around where they aren’t supposed to, when the ‘no trespassing’ sign isn’t good enough.”

The door opened, and a young man stepped out, dressed in shorts and a terry cloth bathrobe. “Which one of you is Levi?”

“I am.” I stepped forward, extending my hand. “I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news. Did she tell you?”

“Andrea passed.” We traded grips, and I breathed a bit easier, knowing that I wouldn’t have to break the news again. “Thank you for coming to tell me in person. She was a good friend.”

“I didn’t just come to tell you,” I said. “I need your help. I can pay.”

He looked me up and down, then back at Ben. “Who are you?”

“Just a friend,” Ben said. “Levi needed a ride, and I was in the neighborhood.”

Garret sighed, then gestured to the garage. “Come with me.”

I followed him to the garage door, Ben a few paces behind me, as Garret fumbled in a pocket and came out with a fob.

The nearest door started to raise, and he stopped and faced me as it did. “Whatever you need, I can’t help. I wish I could.”

I tilted my head, looked past him, and blinked. The inside of the garage had been trashed.

No, that wasn’t right.

The inside of the garage had been demolished.

I could see the remains of what had once been impressive magical constructs, but now were nothing but twisted scrap, shattered crystals, and broken branch cuttings. A metal ring set in the ground had been ripped up, twisted into a pretzel, and tossed aside. The floor looked actively dangerous to walk on, what with all the broken glass and shattered gemstones scattered about.

“Jesus…” I muttered, stepping inside. “What happened?”

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Garret said. “Lydia and I were in the city two mornings ago, running a couple errands. When we came home, it was like this.”

I took it all in. This amount of damage had to be expensive. I couldn’t gauge how many hours of labor had gone into building it all, but the cost of raw materials alone probably ran into the tens of thousands. “Did they take anything?”

“Near as I can tell, no,” Garret said, looking particularly tired as he surveyed the damage. “It’s hard to do an inventory when so much of it is smashed to powder, but the most valuable stuff—the gemstones—were shattered and left in pieces. They broke into the house and destroyed all the spare parts I keep in the basement, too, but they didn’t break anything else, and the runes around the cage weren’t even scuffed. It’s… strange.”

I finished the thought. “Someone’s trying to put you out of business. Do you know anyone who’s mad at you?”

He shook his head. “That’s the thing—my business is going to be fine.”

“How’s that?” I looked at him, tilting my head. “The damage—”

“Is insured.” He shrugged. “I got the best coverage money could buy. Some of this stuff is pretty volatile, and…” Garret looked to his side, then shook off whatever thought had troubled him. “Point is, it’s all covered. I’ll even get compensation for the days I can’t work. It’ll be an enormous hassle, and we’ll be down for a few months while we ship everything in and rebuild it, but the only real inconvenience is I won’t be able to take advantage of the planetary conjunction next month.”

“A question.” Ben stepped up, looking back at the cage. “What do you keep in there?”

Garret shook his head. “Nothing. It’s just there to scare off trespassers. Spooked you, didn’t it?”

That shook a thought loose in my head. “Wait, if all your magical supplies were destroyed, what kept the fear spell going?”

“Oh, that’s powered by a rune table in the dining room,” Garret shrugged. “It can also project positive vibes, if we’re having a barbeque.”

“So, they broke everything that was related to your business, but didn’t lay a finger on anything else, magical or otherwise,” I surmised.

Garret nodded. “That about sums it up. So, whatever spell you needed… It’s going to have to wait.”

I shook my head, stepping inside. “I really don’t need a spell, I just wanted to know if anyone had come by to use your rig this morning. But I suppose this kind of rules out that possibility.”

Garret shrugged. “I’m sorry I can’t help you more.”

“Well, that’s not strictly true,” I said, shaking my head. “Can I use your phone?”

…

Friday. 3:52 PM

Garret left me alone, going to do some work in the basement while I made the calls.

I could have used my own phone, but I didn’t want my number showing up on the caller ID. I also didn’t want to leave a message, so when the ringer stopped and I heard a prerecorded message, I hung up and tried again.

In total, I called them four times before I got an answer.

“Who is this?” Kennedy sounded a lot more worn than they’d been that morning. It was almost as though there had been some sort of recent, public crisis that would increase their workload.

“Hi, Kennedy,” I said, smiling into the receiver. “My paperwork’s going to be late.”

A moment of silence passed before they responded. “Levi? Holy shit, what did you do?”

“Nothing that I’m being accused of.”

“They’re saying you set a troll on one of our counsellor teams.”

I paused, frowning just in case Kennedy could hear my expression. “Okay, maybe some of what I’m being accused of, but I had a good reason. Are they okay?”

“They both came out alive, barely. We had to bounce in a damned power surge from Chicago. Do you know how expensive that is? Did you know that overages like that shit come out of my budget?”

Kennedy seemed awfully mad about the paperwork and the budget, which made me think they hadn’t heard about the murder. That was good. It meant I wasn’t wasting my time with the call.

“Look, Kennedy, something big is happening in Kansas City. I’m still putting together the details, but this story stinks. All I’m asking is that you hear me out before you finish tracing my number and tell the counsellors where I am.”

There was a moment of silence as the keyboard on their side of the line stopped clacking. “You’ve got about a minute, then.”

I tilted my head to pin the phone to my shoulder, pulling out my notepad. “It takes that long to trace a number?”

“No, that’s pretty much immediate, I traced you the second I heard your voice. It takes that long for the fax I sent to leave the queue and get printed out over at Council HQ. Once that’s sent, you’re up shit creek without a paddle.”

“You still use fax machines?”

“Levi, the clock’s ticking.”

Right. Focus. “Someone used a communications hex on Andrea’s phone. I figured it out and went to her place, but she was already dead by the time I arrived. The only workshop that could have cast that spell locally is trashed.”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“Hold it. Someone’s dead?”

“Yeah. Andrea Hills. Why did you think the counsellors were after me?”

I heard keys clack, and Kennedy’s voice dropped. “I’m listening.”

“Did you stop the fax?”

“Yes.”

“So they didn’t tell you about the murder,” I said, more a statement than a question.

“All I heard was you were wanted for unlicensed use of magic, and then for resisting arrest and cryptid endangerment.” Kennedy sounded genuinely unsettled. They weren’t even swearing.

“I was going to ask you for any information you had about the murder,” I said, “So I could try and piece together what happened, but…”

“Someone’s intercepting council paperwork. With our firewalls, that’s some serious talent. I don’t even know who could do that without tripping our wards.” Kennedy didn’t seem willing to take the Occam’s razor route and assume that it was an inside job.

“Point is, the council’s being led around by the nose, and I’m their bait,” I said. “Can you help me?”

A few seconds went by, and the keyboard began clacking again. “There hasn’t been a communications hex directed at the Kansas City area in the past twenty-four hours. You said it was Andrea Hills, right?” Kennedy asked, redirecting their questioning. “I think I recognize the name. If she’s got a license, I can check the documents on her. Can I reach you at this number?”

I checked the time. “How long will that take? I’m not going to stick around all day, but I can wait a bit.”

“Give me an hour.”

“Be careful. If whoever’s behind this finds out you’re poking around—”

“Levi,” Kennedy interrupted, flatly. “This is my turf. Nobody navigates paperwork like me. Don’t worry.”

“Fine. Talk to you soon.”

I hung up, hanging the corded phone back on its receiver. “How much of that did you hear?”

Behind me in the kitchen, Garret was pouring a cup of coffee for himself. “You need to loiter here for an hour, and the council’s involved in covering up a murder.”

“Pretty much. Is that okay?”

He nodded, thinking about it. “The counsellors don’t know where you are? They won’t chase you here?”

“That’s right. Kennedy knows where I am, but they won’t rat me out.”

“And you’re sure they can’t trace your phone?”

“Yeah. I cleansed it with a crystal earlier, so there’s no way they’re tracing my cell line with a spell.”

“Sure.” Garret frowned.

“Unless they just have a contact within the regular police, who can tap phone lines,” Ben pointed out.

Oh. Crap. “Will turning it off, uh, fix that?”

“Just take the SIM card out, you should be fine.”

I did that, and dug Andrea’s cracked phone out of my bag, popping her sim card free as well. Putting both cards into a side pocket in my backpack, I checked my phone and, sure enough, it didn’t have service. “Okay. Now they definitely can’t trace me.”

Taking out another mug, Garret started pouring more coffee. “How do you take it?”

“Sugar and milk, if you’ve got it, but I’m not picky. What’s your wifi password?”

I got set up on the kitchen island. There was an outlet for my laptop, and Garret told me to help myself to the coffee, which I gladly took him up on. I was already feeling the exertion of the day wearing on me, and I wasn’t going to have any breaks soon, so I drained most of the pot over the course of fifteen minutes.

Ben and Lydia got back a little later. She’d gone to unlock the gate for him, so he could park his truck by the house. Lydia walked over to the empty pot, scowled, and started brewing more while Ben excused himself to the bathroom.

That left me alone with Lydia as she waited for the coffee to brew.

“I’m sorry about your friend,” I said. “I’m… not great at breaking bad news, and—”

“I don’t want to talk about that with you,” she said. “Okay?”

“Okay.” The air between us felt still, and intensely awkward. To fill the silence, I asked, “So… how long have you known Garret?”

She shrugged. “Since we were teens. Our parents both homeschooled, so they could teach us about magic and keep… well, they thought public school wasn’t a good option for me. There was a local parent group for witches who were doing that, and we met through there.”

“That sounds nice,” I said.

“It wasn’t.”

A few seconds went by, as I tried to think of how to respond to that.

Thankfully, Lydia filled the silence while I was grasping for words. “So, you’ve got that newspaper for our people.”

“Yeah!” I brightened. “Have you read it?”

“Eh…” She looked back at the coffee pot. “I skimmed an issue, at a friend’s house. We don’t have a subscription.”

I tried not to take that too personally. “I’m not sure if my printer even delivers this far north.”

“We just don’t really have a use for it, to be honest.”

Another awkward pause, as she waited for the pot to fill. A good thirty seconds passed, and she asked, “So the commonwealth’s giving you shit over stuff that’s not your fault?”

“Yup.”

She nodded. “Buncha assholes.”

At last, something we could agree on.

There was more silence, but it was comfortable now. I continued my work on the article, and she checked her phone, letting the moments slip past.

A minute or two passed, and Ben got back from the bathroom, walking over to see what I was doing.

Peering over my shoulder, he asked. “What’re you writing?”

“I’m just arranging my thoughts.” I gestured to the writing software I had up, with bullet points and a loose introduction written out. The facts that I knew, the questions I had, and the places I could get information were written out. The last line item, with potential sources, was pretty sparse. “It’s what I do when I’ve got half a story and I don’t know how to continue it. I write out what I have, and it shows me where the holes are.”

He skimmed my notes. “Seems like there are more holes than story.”

I nodded, tapping a hand to my head as I thought about the problems. “It’s just a start. I think if we knew who or why, most of the rest of it would snap into place. At this point, it’s a matter of poking at it from different angles until I can learn more.”

“So, now what?”

“Now, I wait for my contact with the council to call me back, and figure out where to go from there.” I sighed, downed the last dredges of coffee in my mug, and eyed the slowly filling pot on the counter. “If they can give me an inkling as to what’s going on, great. If not, I find somewhere else to start digging. Logical deduction can get me pretty far, if it has to.”

Ben took a seat next to me, scratching his chin while he thought about that. “Do we know for sure that the killer is acting logically?”

I blinked. “I don’t know why they wouldn’t. What are you thinking about?”

“Well, we’re assuming they have the same information we do. About Garret’s insurance policy, for example. What if they didn’t know about it?”

“Our killer has contacts at the council, and the resources to cast a powerful hex,” I pointed out. “I don’t think they’re going to overlook something that major.”

“Everyone’s got blind spots. Lydia,” he raised his voice, turning to face her. “How was the stuff here insured? Was it through a magical agency?”

“Art insurance,” Lydia said, drumming her hand on the counter as she waited for coffee. “As far as they’re concerned, Garret makes abstract sculptures.”

“So,” Ben finished. “Maybe they’re hot stuff with magic, but they’re not so good with old fashioned accounting. It’s a possibility.”

I hadn’t considered that. Running through the possibilities in my head… it made sense. It made a lot of sense, in fact. Pressing a hand to my cheek, I nodded to myself as the pieces snapped into place. “Andrea and Garret worked together. Someone must have been upset over a project they did, and they wanted revenge. It fits. It makes sense.” Smiling enough to show teeth, I looked Ben right in the eyes. “You’re a genius!”

“I’m just asking questions,” he said, though his smile made me think it was false modesty. “Is that enough to get the counsellors to listen? Tell them to look for someone with motive against both Garret and Andrea?”

I shook my head. “If they get me, I’ll explain it, but I’d rather come to them with everything. Lydia, do you know anyone like who we’re talking about?”

“I stay out of his work, when I can,” Lydia shook her head, pouring the fresh pot into a mug. “He’s in the basement, seeing what he can salvage, if you want to talk to him. Down the hall, door at the end, light switch is on the wall.”

Taking the opportunity to refresh my own drink, I smiled, feeling excited from the momentum in the research. “Thanks. Ben, if the phone rings for me, can you come get me?”

Ben nodded, staying behind in the kitchen as I followed Lydia’s directions, taking my coffee with me. I navigated down the homey little hallway, found the right door, and went down the creaky wooden stairs to get to the basement. It was pretty basic as far as these things went, just a cement frame with exposed boards and nothing in the way of decoration. Boxes were scattered on the floor, their contents smashed or bent in the same way as the parts in the garage. Garret was sorting it, looking for anything that he could salvage, but it didn’t seem like he was having any luck.

“So, eh…” It felt awkward to stand there and watch him work, so I set down my coffee, picked up a broom and swept some of the refuse away from the landing. “You worked with Andrea. Can you tell me about what you did together?”

Garret sighed, nodding. “She was an architect. A good one. I think she mostly did home renovations for straights, nonmagical stuff, but I contracted with her when someone needed an installation done. A few home seance additions, an astrological observatory, that kind of stuff. She’d work out the structural information, I’d handle the magic. We…” He shut his eyes for a moment. After a pause, he shook his head. “We made a good team.”

“She didn’t use magic herself, then,” I asked, making a pile of old crystal shards.

“No, I’m not even certain that she was licensed,” Garret replied. “Or if she was, she barely practiced. Her mom was a witch, that’s how she knew about the community.”

Time for the million-dollar question. “Was there any job you did, where the client was mad enough to kill?”

Garret stopped what he was doing to think about that one. “I don’t think so. You get the usual angry customers, people complaining about this or that, but to kill her over it? I don’t know.”

“If it had to be someone you both knew, though, could you take a guess?” I picked up my coffee to let him think about it. “It might not be logical. Something you were blamed for, unfairly, or that wasn’t your fault.”

Shaking his head, Garret said, “Maybe… Maybe Mariah. You’ve been to her brewery?”

I shook my head. “I don’t drink much, but I know the place.”

“The place flooded about a year ago. One of the cauldrons failed, spilled what she was brewing all over the place, wrecked the whole setup. She had to close for three months, barely kept the bar from shuttering.”

“You installed it?” I asked, taking out my notepad.

“Andrea inspected the place, drew up the specs, I did the work.” Garret’s chest puffed up a bit, a gesture of pride. “And it was good work, too. The only way that cauldron failed is if she wasn’t treating the equipment properly.”

“She gave you trouble over it?” I asked. “Something to make you think she was mad?”

“No. She didn’t even talk to me about it.” Garret deflated and he shrugged. “Went completely silent, hired someone from out of state to fix the place up. I assume she’s pissed, but she didn’t confront me about it directly.”

I nodded. It fit. There was motive, and if she had magical equipment at her place installed from out of state, she might even have the means to put together a solid hex. “She might have decided to confront you about it indirectly, then. Anything—”

The door opened above, and Ben called down after me. “Levi! Your friend’s calling for you. He sounds scared.”