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“Then it’s too bad we’re the best you got,” the dark-haired mage said, coming back into the living room. “And I’m telling you, someone just did a spell.”
“And I’m telling you, it was the wards,” the smaller man argued. He was Asian, bald, and looked uncomfortable in his skin. “These things don’t like us.”
The tall acolyte looked like she agreed with the wards. “They won’t hurt you as long as you’re with us. Now get the safe open.”
“Where is it?” the small man asked, taking something out of his coat.
I glanced at Rhea and mouthed, Silence spell? Because I had a few burning questions. But she shook her head. Apparently, it was powerful enough that they might pick up on it, too.
“Do you know the combination?” I whispered.
She shook her head again, looking guilty. “I only saw it opened once, and that was years ago. I’d forgotten it was even there.”
So much for the idea of shifting back a couple hours and beating them to it. But I suddenly had a serious need to get in that safe. Luckily, it looked like they were going to be nice enough to open it for me.
Or not, I thought, as the smaller mage went to the sunflower painting and jerked it open, revealing a steel-colored block. That promptly shocked the hell out of him as soon as he touched it. “Shit!” He jerked his arm back, and I swear I thought I saw it steaming.
“Looks like it’s warded, too,” the bigger mage said.
“Of course it’s warded!” the tall acolyte told him. “What did you expect? Get it open!”
“You get it open,” the small mage said, still clutching his arm. “It likes you.”
“I don’t crack safes!”
“Is there anything you do do?” the bigger mage asked, and one of the others laughed.
It didn’t appear to faze her. “Yeah. I communicate with the master on a regular basis. And guess what I’m going to tell him next time?”
The big man’s grin faded. “Get it open,” he told the smaller mage.
“I can’t get it open! The damned thing won’t let me near it!”
“You heard the man,” he told the acolyte, who looked like she was wondering why she’d been cursed with incompetents. “You’re gonna have to turn the wards off.”
“Why didn’t I think of that?” she asked. “In case you hadn’t noticed, there are a dozen Circle mages downstairs who would notice if I do!”
“Old men.” A third mage scoffed. “Useless bastards.”
“Maybe. But those useless bastards could have another fifty war mages here in minutes if anything goes wrong. You think you’re up to dealing with that?”
The big mage didn’t answer. “What’s so important in there, anyway?” he asked instead, eyes narrowing. “Must be something valuable.”
“More than you know.”
“Like what, exactly?”
“Like this.” The woman held up something I couldn’t see all that well but that had Rhea stiffening beside me.
And then I was stiffening, too, when the mage said: “A potion? That’s it?”
The acolyte started to reply, and then stopped. “Yes,” she told him. “That’s it. We want the potion; anything else you find is yours.”
The mage said something else, but I didn’t hear, because my heart was suddenly pounding in my ears. It looked like we were after the same thing. But what did an acolyte want with the Tears?
“It doesn’t just help with shifting,” Rhea whispered, before I could ask. “It helps with everything.”
“Everything meaning . . . ?”
