Veiled Magic by Deborah Blake

interested in this particular painting. It first came to our attention when one of our sources at the station informed us of its existence, and, of course, its current location in the evidence locker.”
    Interesting. So they hadn’t known about the painting before the murder either.
“Well, if you know that much, you also know I’m no longer on the case. The painting has nothing to do with me.”
Well, other than the fact that I’m planning to steal it.
But she wasn’t about to share that little tidbit with an official Council representative.
    â€œAh, but the Council begs to differ, Officer Santori,” Moore said smoothly. “We are quite concerned about that painting falling into the wrong hands. In fact, the Council considers it to be a major danger to the well-being of the Paranormal races,perhaps the largest threat that has come along in years.” He gave her a pointed look. “If the Cabal got their hands on it, it would be a disaster of epic proportions—possibly even leading to a second Inquisition.”
    Donata started to speak, but he cut her off.
    â€œI’m sure you don’t want that any more than any other Witch would, isn’t that right, Officer Santori?” He gave a small smile, knowing he had her where he wanted her. “And, of course, your family has a certain position to uphold in the Paranormal community, don’t they? I’m quite certain they would expect your full cooperation with any Council request.”
    Oh, great. Now he was bringing her family into it. She was so screwed. On the other hand, she’d known that the minute she’d seen him on her doorstep.
    â€œWhat exactly does the Council expect me to do about the painting, Mr. Moore?” she asked. “And why not have the source you mentioned before deal with it?” No doubt whoever it was had a more accepted position in the police department than she did. Maybe they didn’t want to get their hands dirty?
    He shook his tidy head and all the hairs stayed neatly in place. Probably didn’t dare do otherwise.
    â€œOur main concern is in keeping the painting out of the hands of the Cabal. And they have undoubtedly heard about it by now, even if they were unconnected to the initial attempt to procure the picture.” Moore’s thin lips twisted. “Clearly, it cannot be allowed to stay where it is. And the Council feels that you are the best person to, shall we say, liberate it, without drawing any more attention to it than necessary.”
    Great goddess—was there anyone who didn’t want her to steal this freaking painting?
    â€œYou did say you have another person at the precinct,” Donata said stubbornly. “Why can’t he or she deal with it?” Maybe if someone else was dealing with the painting, it would satisfy her promise to Clive Farmingham—or at least buy her some time to come up with another solution.
    Moore gave the tiniest hint of a sigh, clearly unused to being questioned when handing out edicts from the Council to lowly Witches. But Donata just crossed her arms across her chest and waited him out.
    â€œVery well,” he said with reluctance. “There is the small matter of the curse.”
    Oh, for the love of—
“I’m sorry, did you say curse?” Donata gritted her teeth. If that wasn’t just typical: they were going to send some poor schmuck—in this case, her—into a dangerous situation without bothering to give said schmuck the basic information necessary to actually accomplish the task at hand. No doubt they didn’t consider her qualified for “need to know.”
    â€œThe historical data about the Pentacle Pentimentos—which, frankly, is more mythology than actual fact—indicates that there may have been a curse placed on the paintings to avoid any tampering by Paranormals.” Moore pursed his lips, no doubt in disapproval of such bad-mannered gestures on