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"If you admit to your role in this," Jeremy continued, "and help us close this portal, you will be turned over to the Cortez Cabal or the interracial council--your choice, but you have my word that I will attend any proceedings, and ensure that your cooperation here is noted and considered."
"And if I played no role in any of this?"
"Then you'd be well advised to tell us anything that will help exonerate you, and anything that will help us close this portal...and to pray that we don't find out you've lied."
Shanahan pulled himself straight and met Jeremy's gaze. "I played only one role in all of this." He enunciated each word as if such gravity would prove his sincerity. "And that is as the original owner of that letter. If I failed to properly safeguard it, then my only defense is that I had no reason--absolutely no reason--to believe it wasn't what my grandfather claimed."
"A fake?" Jeremy said.
"Not a fake. A dud. A failed experiment. A supernatural curiosity with an interesting story attached. That's what my grandfather collected: stories."
Jeremy's gaze veered toward the windows, and his nostrils flared. The windows were closed, and he gave a slight head shake, as if the sniff had been instinctive. All I could see was the empty basketball courts.
"And the story behind this particular artifact?" Jeremy said. "You called it a dud."
Shanahan nodded, emphatically, as if seeing a sign that his story was being believed. "It is supposed to be a portal. A holding cell."
"For the man known as Jack the Ripper."
"No, there's no--"
"We'll get to that," Tolliver said. "Back to the letter and its intended purpose."
They told us a story very similar to the one Anita Barrington knew, with the sorcerer creating a portal to hide from those wanting to take or stop his immortality experiment.
"Only either he wasn't as good as he thought he was, or he rushed the last few steps while his enemies were closing in..."
"And the portal failed," Jeremy said. "The sorcerer couldn't get inside in time."
"That wasn't the problem. He--"
Shanahan went rigid, then stumbled back, hands going to his stomach. His mouth opened as if to scream, but no sound came out, just a wisp of something gray, like smoke, and he collapsed backward to the floor.
Tolliver shot forward. Nick pulled me back. Clay tried to lunge for Jeremy, but it was more of a lurch, his face shiny with exertion. Antonio spun on Tolliver, and the sorcerer flicked his fingers in a knockback spell, but Antonio grabbed his hands before he could finish.
Jeremy rushed to Shanahan, who was writhing on the floor, letting out what was probably a howl of pain, but came out only as a mewling whisper carried on a stream of breath that stunk of burnt flesh.
"Let me help--" Tolliver said, struggling against Antonio.
"Help what?" I said. "Finish him off?"
Tolliver's eyes shot to mine, blasting me with cold fury. I walked over to him, Nick sticking so close his arm brushed mine as we moved.
"Are you going to blame us for that too?" I said. "Maybe we could flip off a power breaker, but we sure as hell can't do that. That's magic, and there are only two magic-makers here. Was he about to say something you didn't want us to hear?"
"You think I did this?"
Shanahan had gone still, eyes open and blank. As Jeremy closed Shanahan's eyes, Tolliver let out a roar and started struggling again.
"You just let him die? I could have--"
"Helped?" Jeremy said, voice deceptively low. "No one could have helped him...by curing it or hastening it along. But I'm sure that's no surprise to you."
"I didn't--"
"I don't know very much about magic, but there's nothing else that would do that--burn a man from the inside." He walked over to Tolliver. "He was about to tell us something about the portal spell, something you didn't want him to say. What--"
A shout from outside cut him short. We all froze. When Tolliver opened his mouth, Antonio clapped his hand over it.
