Veiled Magic by Deborah Blake Page A

the part of the Catholic Church. “The Inquisitors who were authorized to use them would have had some way to remove the curse harmlessly, but any Paranormal attempting to alter or destroy a Pentimento would suffer from some form of retribution. It is possible that this curse may have led, directly or indirectly, to Mr. Farmingham’s death.”
    â€œOh, great,” Donata said. “So you don’t want to risk your ‘source’ at the department, but it is okay to send me after it?” She scowled at him in case he hadn’t picked up on the fact that she was pissed off. It had about as much impact as when the cat had done it.
    Moore waved a calming hand at her. “Not at all, Ms. Santori. But since you have already handled the painting once with seemingly no ill effects, it was deemed prudent to allow you to continue to be the one who dealt with it.” He gave her a confident smile. “We’re certain that you will continue to be unaffected, since you have experienced no obvious difficulties up to now.”
    Donata was neither impressed nor reassured by his certainty. Unfortunately, she didn’t really see any way around it. And she
had
been intending to steal the damned painting anyway.
    â€œSo, if I get the painting out for you,” she asked, “what does the Council intend to do with it?”
    Moore visibly refrained from telling her it was none of her business what the Council did; no doubt this file of hers had mentioned that she wasn’t good at blindly following orders. (She never would have made it in the police force if it hadn’t been for her special circumstances.)
    â€œWe have two aims,” he explained with barely restrained impatience. “Our first goal, obviously, is to keep it out of the hands of the Cabal. Once we have achieved that, we hope to be able to find some way to destroy it, or if that isn’t possible, to render it harmless by altering the information it theoretically contains about the Paranormal races.”
    Well, that was pretty much what Farmingham had asked her to do—maybe this wouldn’t be a problem after all. Or at least, no more of a problem than it had already been, before the Council stuck their collective pointy noses in.
    â€œWhat about the blotch that’s covering up the sixth race?” she asked.
    Her visitor gave her a curious look. “What blotch?”
    Interesting. Apparently their source had missed that little piece of information. “There’s a large black blob of some sort covering the face of one of the people in the picture,” she explained. “Clive Farmingham, the expert who was working on it at the time of the robbery, said he believed it hid the identity of a lost sixth Paranormal race. It was his belief that this race posed an even greater threat to us than the Cabal does, and that it is of the utmost importance we find a way to remove the mark and reveal the characteristics that would help us to track down that species.”
    Moore gave her a stare that spoke volumes about his lack of interest in the theories of a dead restorer. “This so-called blotch is of no consequence to us, Ms. Santori. I find it highly unlikely that there ever was a mythical sixth race. And if there was, I have seen no evidence that they are causing a problem.” He gave a dismissive wave. “If there ever was such a race, they probably died out years ago, as it is likely the Fae and the Dragons will do eventually if their reproduction continues to wane at its current rate. No, our only concern is with rendering the painting safe or finding a way to destroy it.”
    Donata wasn’t sure she agreed with this, but she wasn’t about to argue about it at this juncture. She supposed if she was going to be stuck dealing with the painting anyway, she might as well try and keep the Council off her back for as long as possible. At least until she could find out whether or not Peter