pry.”
Taine thought it was far more likely he’d been hit with a spell.
“He sends us postcards from time to time,” the elderly man said. “Got one a week or so ago. He was in New Zealand.”
Saffron asked, “Did you ever visit the house while it was being rented by Dirk?”
“No. He sends a check through the mail and his payments arrive promptly. We haven’t seen or heard from him since signing the rental agreement.”
Saffron lifted the sheaf of papers that’d been on her lap. “I have some pictures for you to look at. Let me know if one of them is Dirk. Some of the pictures are of women, in case you might have seen one with him. But if anyone looks familiar, please let me know.”
The Leons exchanged a glance. Fear edged into their eyes and scent.
Taine wanted to ease their worry, wasn’t sure how until he zeroed in on the charm bracelet around Mrs. Leon’s frail wrist—magical charms all, most of them fighting off illness and pain.
“This is an IRE investigation,” he said and fear changed into avid curiosity.
They readily took the six packs from Saffron. Studied each picture before swapping the sheets.
There’s wasn’t even a glimmer of recognition.
Returning the last sorcerer six pack to Saffron, Mrs. Leon asked, “Was the fire intentional?”
Saffron handed the question off to him with a glance. He answered, “The fire resulted from a magical working. I’m not at liberty to say more.”
They left a few minutes later. Back in the sedan, Saffron said, “So it took three years to get the spell written?”
“It might have, especially if he was missing pieces of it. Or he might have been keeping tabs on the tenant and sensed a moment of weakness, when a little bit of magic would persuade the man to move, and decided to use the opportunity.”
“Makes sense. But that’d suggest the sorcerer knew he’d need to be in that particular location. How could he know that if the places where portals can be created vary and aren’t governed by physics?”
“Someone like the astrologist could predict it. But that kind of precision work would be expensive.”
“Does client confidentiality apply?”
“Good question.”
“So we’ll go back to the astrologist?”
Remembering the astrologist’s heavy-lidded and fantasy-filled perusal of Saffron, Taine felt a bellows-like squeeze in his chest. And where there was a bellows-like squeeze, another uncontrolled burst of dragon fire was a distinct possibility.
“Time for Gaige to step up and deal with the astrologist. He can handle that and we can get something to eat at The Deep.”
Chapter 8
From the outside The Deep was a windowless, hole-in-the-wall joint. It was close to the port and the naval base, nestled in among tattoo shops and bars that served military men.
It looked as if it’d been there forever though Saffron had never noticed it, not that that meant anything. She hadn’t been in this section of town since she was eleven or twelve, when she’d accompanied her father after he’d taken a call and come here to pull a drunk soldier from his unit out of a bar.
Her dad had been like that. Her mother like that too. Hell her entire family was big on service and duty.
“You want to go somewhere else?” Taine asked, making her aware that she was rubbing the place above her heart.
“No. I’m good.”
They reached the front door. A white sign with blood-red lettering warned: Neutral territory. Check your grievances and prejudices at the door. No mercy will be shown to violators .
“I like this place already,” Saffron said.
Taine grasped a brass knob and opened the door. The scent of fried onion rings and fried fish made her stomach shout with pleasure and her mouth water.
They entered The Deep. It wasn’t well lit, in keeping with the hole-in-the-wall external image.
A bar counter, lined with bar stools, ran most of the length along the left wall. Behind it was a long-haired blond with crossed arms. And behind him,
Taine thought it was far more likely he’d been hit with a spell.
“He sends us postcards from time to time,” the elderly man said. “Got one a week or so ago. He was in New Zealand.”
Saffron asked, “Did you ever visit the house while it was being rented by Dirk?”
“No. He sends a check through the mail and his payments arrive promptly. We haven’t seen or heard from him since signing the rental agreement.”
Saffron lifted the sheaf of papers that’d been on her lap. “I have some pictures for you to look at. Let me know if one of them is Dirk. Some of the pictures are of women, in case you might have seen one with him. But if anyone looks familiar, please let me know.”
The Leons exchanged a glance. Fear edged into their eyes and scent.
Taine wanted to ease their worry, wasn’t sure how until he zeroed in on the charm bracelet around Mrs. Leon’s frail wrist—magical charms all, most of them fighting off illness and pain.
“This is an IRE investigation,” he said and fear changed into avid curiosity.
They readily took the six packs from Saffron. Studied each picture before swapping the sheets.
There’s wasn’t even a glimmer of recognition.
Returning the last sorcerer six pack to Saffron, Mrs. Leon asked, “Was the fire intentional?”
Saffron handed the question off to him with a glance. He answered, “The fire resulted from a magical working. I’m not at liberty to say more.”
They left a few minutes later. Back in the sedan, Saffron said, “So it took three years to get the spell written?”
“It might have, especially if he was missing pieces of it. Or he might have been keeping tabs on the tenant and sensed a moment of weakness, when a little bit of magic would persuade the man to move, and decided to use the opportunity.”
“Makes sense. But that’d suggest the sorcerer knew he’d need to be in that particular location. How could he know that if the places where portals can be created vary and aren’t governed by physics?”
“Someone like the astrologist could predict it. But that kind of precision work would be expensive.”
“Does client confidentiality apply?”
“Good question.”
“So we’ll go back to the astrologist?”
Remembering the astrologist’s heavy-lidded and fantasy-filled perusal of Saffron, Taine felt a bellows-like squeeze in his chest. And where there was a bellows-like squeeze, another uncontrolled burst of dragon fire was a distinct possibility.
“Time for Gaige to step up and deal with the astrologist. He can handle that and we can get something to eat at The Deep.”
Chapter 8
From the outside The Deep was a windowless, hole-in-the-wall joint. It was close to the port and the naval base, nestled in among tattoo shops and bars that served military men.
It looked as if it’d been there forever though Saffron had never noticed it, not that that meant anything. She hadn’t been in this section of town since she was eleven or twelve, when she’d accompanied her father after he’d taken a call and come here to pull a drunk soldier from his unit out of a bar.
Her dad had been like that. Her mother like that too. Hell her entire family was big on service and duty.
“You want to go somewhere else?” Taine asked, making her aware that she was rubbing the place above her heart.
“No. I’m good.”
They reached the front door. A white sign with blood-red lettering warned: Neutral territory. Check your grievances and prejudices at the door. No mercy will be shown to violators .
“I like this place already,” Saffron said.
Taine grasped a brass knob and opened the door. The scent of fried onion rings and fried fish made her stomach shout with pleasure and her mouth water.
They entered The Deep. It wasn’t well lit, in keeping with the hole-in-the-wall external image.
A bar counter, lined with bar stools, ran most of the length along the left wall. Behind it was a long-haired blond with crossed arms. And behind him,
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