Read Magic in the Blood for Free Online Page B

locked up in a glyph-warded room faster than I could say hocus-pocus.
    That is, if I didn’t burn the whole place down first.
    I am a river, river, river.
    “You okay?” Love asked.
    “Good,” I lied. I even put on a smile. It must have been close to convincing. He nodded. Magic inside me twisted, pushed to get out, to be used, licking hot along the whorls of color from my shoulder to my fingertips, cooling each band on my left hand and arm. It begged to be used. It would be so easy to draw on magic and cast it—not that I even knew what I’d cast it for. And then I’d pay the price.
    No way.
    Magic turned again, pushed at my skin. I did nothing. Nothing. And magic slowly ebbed.
    Go, me.
    “So here’s where a lot of it takes place.” Love waved his hand, gesturing at the room as a whole. I had no idea what he was talking about.
    He did not step forward. The room stretched back farther than I could see, but as though I were looking through a fishbowl, I could not focus enough to actually make out the back wall. They had heavy Diversions in the room, probably some Glamour or Illusion, keeping my eyes believing what they wanted me to believe.
    There could be an entire three-ring circus back there, elephants and all, and I wouldn’t see it through those spells. It was the most effective magical version of a one-way mirror I’d ever seen.
    “All what takes place?” I asked.
    Love pointed to my left. “Watching the city for magical crimes. Over there we have surveillance equipment in the most heavily populated areas of the city.” He pointed to my right. “Over there we have a magic-blocked holding cell, and back there”—he pointed at the fuzzy end of the room—“are restrooms.” He smiled.
    Restrooms. Right.
    “Okay, so you’re equipped to detect magic and crimes dealing with magic. Why show me?”
    “Because, Ms. Beckstrom,” a new but familiar voice said from the fuzzy side of the room, “we need your permission to let us keep you safe.”
    Paul Stotts, my bus buddy, appeared like, you know . . . magic, out of a thick fog that was the other side of the room. Well, well. He really was a cop. Let the show begin.
    From Love and Payne’s body language, I figured he must be the boss here and maybe not a very well-liked man. Something about him made them uncomfortable. Something I just wasn’t getting.
    Three people walked up behind him. Of the two men, one looked like an aging hippie gone bald with a pigtail of hair at the nape of his neck, and the other was about four feet tall and sandy-haired. He gave off a clean-cut accountant vibe. The woman was heavy and looked like she’d just come in from working as both fry cook and bouncer at a truck stop. They were all dressed in street clothes. Like everything else in the room, their scents were overpowered by the strong smell of magic.
    “This is part of the team from Magical Enforcement Response Corps,” Stotts went on. “Officers Garnet”—the hippie nodded—“Julian”—the accountant smiled—“and Richards.” The woman held up one hand. “They have all been specially trained in magical abuse investigation, control, and regulation.”
    “Nice to meet you all.”
    Stotts walked forward. The rest of the MERC team went back to the fuzzier side of the room, chatting quietly amongst themselves where I could not hear what they said.
    “I asked Detectives Love and Payne to bring you here after you gave your statement so you would better understand the lengths we will go to make sure you are safe.”
    There it was again, people thinking I was in danger. “Are you telling me I need you to look after me?” I did not like people telling me I couldn’t handle myself or my life. Hells, I’d been mauled by my father’s ghost just this morning and managed to come out of that okay.
    “Not at all,” he said smooth and nice-like. “I am asking for your help.”
    Well. I had not expected that. My witty retort about not needing bodyguards or