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Which means she’s at least flirted with unnatural magic or minor demons.
“Unnatural” being a term used for anything ranging from performing spells that ignored the three-fold rule to using blood magic.
He’d still have to contact her through an intermediary, I said. And given none of these people would be working for free, someone has to be financing the whole thing.
Unless he—or whoever he’s working through—offered them a power boost. Remember, in this neck of the woods, power is all that matters.
Maybe, but such a boost would come at a cost. Surely most would not be so eager if it meant losing their souls and any hope of rebirth.
I suspect gray witches might live by the old saying “a bird in hand is worth two in the bush.” Or in this case, their future.
Then they’re idiots.
Her laughter ran through me. No, just products of a system that places power over all else. You ready?
I shifted position and placed my fingers either side of the woman’s temples. While telepathy didn’t in itself require touch, Belle was doing this through me, and given it helped when I was reading the last memories of the dead, I figured it couldn’t hurt here. Right, go.
Belle’s mind slipped more fully into mine, then on into the other woman’s memories, shuffling through them so fast it was little more than a blur to me.
After a moment, she said, A broker she’s dealt with a couple of times before contacted her several days ago to offer her a cash job.
Did he tell her what it was?
Not over the phone. He said it was better if they met in person, as the job involved a royal blood and caution was required.
And that didn’t send up any red flags for her?
No. As I said, she’s worked for him before. There was a long pause as she sorted through more memories. He arranged for her to meet him at the Mount Ainslie lookout at dusk. She’s met him there once before, so didn’t see a problem.
I gather it wasn't the broker who actually met her?
It was, but she was hit from behind. When she came to, she was physically and magically bound in some sort of old sewer. Two men periodically checked on her, and she was left supplies she had to battle the rats for, but that was it until this today.
I’m betting the two who checked her are the same two in the car with my brother. I’d also place money on the fact her sewer was either the same or an offshoot of the sewer they’d used to get my brother out.
Possible, Belle was saying, but they were using concealment spells, so she never actually saw them.
They obviously spoke to her, though; otherwise how would she have known they were men?
If she was their captive, why did she agree to help them? There doesn’t seem to be any sort of compulsion on her.
There’s not. They threatened to take out her grandson if she didn’t help them.
I glanced at her. She didn’t look old enough to have a grandson, but maybe the grime was filling the cracks. And if she did?
She’d be released and compensated handsomely.
I snorted. If she believed she could get away with helping to snatch Julius Marlowe, she really is a fool.
She didn’t know who the target was.
Has this broker got a name? Or a description?
She paused. Those particular memories have been fudged.
Suggesting our broker might also be a telepath?
Possible. The way he’s gone about it is a little strange though. It’s more a smear than an actual erasure and suggests he hasn’t been trained.
