Page 4 of Booked for Murder

I’d tried, although I’d limited my experimentations to animals rather than people. The way I figured, if I couldn’t burst the skull of livestock on route for the dinner table—or even come close—I couldn’t crack open a human’s skull, either.

“The killer was probably working with a telekinetic,” Meridian admitted. “But you’re right. Exsanguinators don’t usually manifest like that. I heard the cops and the adepts they brought in. They know of a few, but they don’t work like that. They have a different style. Now that was an interesting conversation.”

Yeah, I didn’t work like that and had no intention of starting. Even if I stretched my legs and worked some magic, my focus on keeping my magic controlled would hamper me in more ways than one. Habit ruled magic almost as much as natural ability.

I lacked habit, and I’d done my best to leash my natural abilities.

One day, I might even lose my magic altogether from disuse, although it’d still be in my blood, something I could pass down to my children, if I ever had any.

In good news for me, I still had more time than I cared to think about before I hit the end of the road on that.

I considered Meridian’s words, and I recognized she wanted me to bite on the little tidbit of information she dangled in front of me. Before the accident, I’d been curious and inquisitive.

Nothing had changed.

Heaving a sigh for her benefit, I asked, “What was so interesting about that conversation?”

“Did you know there’s a woman who can shoot someone’s blood all the way up to there?” Meridian asked, pointing up to the sixth floor of our library. “All the way to there! And some think she could clear the roof if in a mood. Apparently, her control is so refined she can build pressure in the veins, use her magic to contain it so the vessels don’t rupture, and control the spray. It gets better, though.”

My life sucked, and I’d have to put some serious thought into moving. “How does it get better?”

“She’s a mouse.”

I was a what? “A mouse?” I held my hands apart several inches to indicate the size of a mouse. “Like a rodent? About this big?”

“Personality wise. She’s meek as a mouse, prim and proper, and the prime example of an adept lady. They agreed she could if she wanted, but that it went against all of her training and behavior. And you know how adepts get. They pride themselves in their style, and she’s a mouse.”

The rumor mill had gotten bored, drunk, and possibly high before attacking my reputation, which likely hadn’t survived the onslaught. I could act like a lady, I’d even owned a few gowns, but I’d never gotten to wear them because a bodyguard didn’t wear pretty dresses to social events.

A bodyguard wore a suit.

Sometimes, I’d worn a skirt with my suit, but they’d always allowed for a full range of motion and I’d worn some form of spandex shorts beneath the skirt in case of emergency.

The last time I’d acted like a lady, I’d been at some gala the night before I’d been sold off to Bradley Hampton. Then, I’d found the arrangement pleasant; my parents had gotten lucky with me, with my percentage jumping two complete brackets thanks to a lucky roll of the genetic dice. It happened sometimes.

Once, a pair of mundanes had produced an adept child with a staggering 98.5% rating, with every recessed adept gene becoming dominant in an evolutionary triumph. It happened with adept pairings, too, resulting in a prized pure mundane packed with adept potential.

Those stuck in the middle rarely did anything interesting, although my parents, on the higher end of the spectrum, had bucked the trend with me and my 97.6% rating.

But to be slated as a mouse?

My pride wanted to go into a corner and weep over how far I’d fallen. “I can’t tell if that’s a good or a bad thing,” I admitted.

“Good. She’s the kind of mouse who can turn into a dragon.”

I stared at Meridian. “Did you have a few drinks on the way to work this morning?”

“No, but I wish I had.”

Me, too. “I’m officially late for work.”

“I don’t think we’re working today, but I’ll go tell the boss you did show up and ask what he wants you to do. I think we’ll either be sent home or asked to clean up if the cops ever finish with the place. Wait here. I’ll come back and report. Just don’t go near the cordon. That’s how you get sucked into being questioned, too.”

I owed Meridian for that gem, and I waited at the corner, examining the blood on the library walls while wondering how much of a mess the murder would make of my life.

Two

Ajani loved the brush more than life itself.