wallet, I found the note Uncle Karl had given me listing the paperwork I needed for my first day of work. At the top of the paper was the shop's phone number.
I picked up the phone and called. Andrea picked up on the fourth ring and said: "Copy shop," in a clipped, flustered voice. I could hear a commotion in the background.
I didn't hang up. Instead I said: "Andrea, this is Ray Lilly. I'm sorry. I don't have an excuse for you. I'm just sorry."
"Ray." She seemed almost to enjoy the flash of anger in her voice. "Take beatings like a pack mule, huh? Come down here so I can find out for myself. And where is 555-0838?"
As she said the numbers, I read them off the telephone in front of me. I'd forgotten the copy shop phones had caller ID.
"I'm in a library at the University." There was no point in lying, since it would be easy to check. Any hope I had of concocting a story about a trip the emergency room evaporated. "I lost track--"
"I have work to do. Have a crappy life, Ray." She hung up. So did I. Damn.
There was a basket of office supplies on the counter. I took the scraps of paper out of my pocket and set them beside the sink. The spells were powerful, but the paper they'd been drawn on was fragile. I didn't know what would happen to the magic if the paper tore, or if the ink ran. Maybe it would be fine. Maybe it would explode like a bomb. But if it was anything like what happened to the cover of Callin's journal, I didn't want to find out.
I took a tape gun out of the basket and laid out a long strip sticky side up. Then I laid out a second, letting it overlap the first slightly. By some miracle, there were no wrinkles. I laid the ghost knife face down on the tape, then laid two more pieces of tape over the back.
There was a pair of scissors in the basket, too, and they were surprisingly sharp. I trimmed the edges and held it up. Poor man's laminate. Eventually, the tape would yellow and curl, but it would protect the ghost knife for a little while.
I sure as hell hoped I didn't need it longer than that.
I did the same thing to the three steeled glass spells next. As I was slipping them back into my pocket, Hank returned.
"Why don't you eat something?" He set a box on the table. There was a small stack of napkins and a pair of bran muffins inside.
My stomach flip-flopped. I picked up a muffin and bit into it. It was dry and bland and wonderful.
"I didn't realize I was hungry," I said around a mouthful of muffin. As apologies went, it was pretty lame, but Hank didn't seem to care.
"I'm sorry it took so long to return with them. I had a couple things to take care of out front."
I brought out my wallet. Hank waved at me to put it away. "I should pay for this food," I said. The earnestness in my voice surprised me. I wasn't a charity case. I didn't want to owe a debt to this guy.
"They're leftovers from a staff party. If you don't eat them, they'll be thrown out, so please enjoy and don't worry about it." I couldn't argue with that. I shrugged and put my wallet away. "So, Payton," he said, "are you taking any medications?"
It took me a moment to remember that I'd given him a fake name. Luckily, I'd already taken another bite of muffin and had an extra moment to get my thoughts together. "No. I've had a hard couple of days. Seriously, I'm not taking drugs and I'm not high or anything. Just stressed out." I took a small bite. "Why are you doing this?"
"Doing what?"
"Helping me. You don't know me." I watched Hank's expression, trying to figure out his angle. Karl and Theresa had helped me because Theresa was my mother's sister. Andrea had hired me to get close to Jon. Jon had been my friend for years, even if I didn't deserve it. But this guy was a stranger. He didn't have any connection to me and I didn't have anything he wanted. He'd even turned down my money.
He shrugged. "It's the right thing to do," was all he said.
Yeah. Right. I was about to press further when we both heard police
I picked up the phone and called. Andrea picked up on the fourth ring and said: "Copy shop," in a clipped, flustered voice. I could hear a commotion in the background.
I didn't hang up. Instead I said: "Andrea, this is Ray Lilly. I'm sorry. I don't have an excuse for you. I'm just sorry."
"Ray." She seemed almost to enjoy the flash of anger in her voice. "Take beatings like a pack mule, huh? Come down here so I can find out for myself. And where is 555-0838?"
As she said the numbers, I read them off the telephone in front of me. I'd forgotten the copy shop phones had caller ID.
"I'm in a library at the University." There was no point in lying, since it would be easy to check. Any hope I had of concocting a story about a trip the emergency room evaporated. "I lost track--"
"I have work to do. Have a crappy life, Ray." She hung up. So did I. Damn.
There was a basket of office supplies on the counter. I took the scraps of paper out of my pocket and set them beside the sink. The spells were powerful, but the paper they'd been drawn on was fragile. I didn't know what would happen to the magic if the paper tore, or if the ink ran. Maybe it would be fine. Maybe it would explode like a bomb. But if it was anything like what happened to the cover of Callin's journal, I didn't want to find out.
I took a tape gun out of the basket and laid out a long strip sticky side up. Then I laid out a second, letting it overlap the first slightly. By some miracle, there were no wrinkles. I laid the ghost knife face down on the tape, then laid two more pieces of tape over the back.
There was a pair of scissors in the basket, too, and they were surprisingly sharp. I trimmed the edges and held it up. Poor man's laminate. Eventually, the tape would yellow and curl, but it would protect the ghost knife for a little while.
I sure as hell hoped I didn't need it longer than that.
I did the same thing to the three steeled glass spells next. As I was slipping them back into my pocket, Hank returned.
"Why don't you eat something?" He set a box on the table. There was a small stack of napkins and a pair of bran muffins inside.
My stomach flip-flopped. I picked up a muffin and bit into it. It was dry and bland and wonderful.
"I didn't realize I was hungry," I said around a mouthful of muffin. As apologies went, it was pretty lame, but Hank didn't seem to care.
"I'm sorry it took so long to return with them. I had a couple things to take care of out front."
I brought out my wallet. Hank waved at me to put it away. "I should pay for this food," I said. The earnestness in my voice surprised me. I wasn't a charity case. I didn't want to owe a debt to this guy.
"They're leftovers from a staff party. If you don't eat them, they'll be thrown out, so please enjoy and don't worry about it." I couldn't argue with that. I shrugged and put my wallet away. "So, Payton," he said, "are you taking any medications?"
It took me a moment to remember that I'd given him a fake name. Luckily, I'd already taken another bite of muffin and had an extra moment to get my thoughts together. "No. I've had a hard couple of days. Seriously, I'm not taking drugs and I'm not high or anything. Just stressed out." I took a small bite. "Why are you doing this?"
"Doing what?"
"Helping me. You don't know me." I watched Hank's expression, trying to figure out his angle. Karl and Theresa had helped me because Theresa was my mother's sister. Andrea had hired me to get close to Jon. Jon had been my friend for years, even if I didn't deserve it. But this guy was a stranger. He didn't have any connection to me and I didn't have anything he wanted. He'd even turned down my money.
He shrugged. "It's the right thing to do," was all he said.
Yeah. Right. I was about to press further when we both heard police
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