But then speed was one reason why Hugh had called me in as a police consultant. While it took a witch a good five minutes to transfer a spell from its original carrier to an Evidence Holding crystal, it was as quick as snapping my fingers for me. And, of course, the second reason was that I could identify any Magic Mirror spells similar to those used at Harrods.
Mary opened a cool box and handed me an orange juice. ‘Let me guess,’ she said, ‘you’ve got man trouble, or should I say, satyr trouble.’
I raised my brows. ‘I’m that transparent?’
She smiled. ‘I’d love to say no, and that it’s my superb powers of deduction at work. But yeah, you are, especially since Sylvia texted me.’
‘Damn gossiping dryad.’ I jabbed the straw into the drink carton. ‘It’ll be all over London now.’
Mary shot me an admonishing look as she fiddled with the coffee flask. ‘Sylvia won’t say anything; she was just worried about you.’
I snorted. ‘I meant Robur. Sylvia hadn’t got up when I left, so the only way she knows about Finn is if the Wardrobe Freak told her.’
‘Ah.’ She added milk and ten lumps of sugar to her cup. It was excessive even for a witch. Still, Mary was using enough power on the job that she wasn’t likely to suffer sugar-abuse bloating any time soon. ‘Anything I can do?’
I drained the juice box and crumpled it. ‘Lock up DI Helen Crane and throw away the key,’ I said sourly.
‘Wish I could.’ She shook her head in regret. ‘The problems she’s left us with are never-ending, both down the Yard and in the Witches’ Council.’
‘I’m more pissed off about the problems she’s causing now,’ I said, helping myself to a BLT. I’d been relieved to find the cool boxes contained a good supply of the sandwiches and orange juice at break time, since all I’d been allowed to bring in with me was my phone and some liquorice torpedoes (we were all nude under the jumpsuits; good thing it was summer and the paper was the thick, reinforced type). ‘The Witch-bitch has only gone and hitched herself back up with Finn and Nicky in the Fair Lands.’
Mary grimaced. ‘Ugh. That’s a bugger, isn’t it?’
‘Yep. And when he told me, I chucked him out. So he’s probably back there now, trapped in the Witch-bitch’s nasty, sticky web, where I’ve fat chance of doing anything about it.’ I ripped open the sandwich and tossed the packet in the bin in self-disgust. Some friend I was.
She frowned. ‘You’re not responsible for his decision, Genny.’
I pursed my lips. ‘I know. But I’m pretty sure the Witch-bitch has him tagged with a Love spell or a Trust Me crossed with a Compulsion.’
‘Wouldn’t put it past her,’ Mary agreed. ‘But he’d have to be stupid not to realise it after all this time. Those things need to be topped-up to keep working and from what I’ve heard it’s been a while since those two have been a couple.’
‘They’ve got Nicky,’ I said, ‘so they’ll have had enough contact for the Witch-bitch to keep her claws in him.’
‘You’re making excuses for him, Genny,’ she said gently.
I shrugged in defensive acknowledgement. ‘He’s a friend.’
‘And you want him to be more?’
Part of me still did, yes. But it wasn’t that part driving my need to see Finn safe. ‘Not so much now, but that doesn’t mean I want him tied to that bitch.’ Irritably, I picked the lettuce out of my sandwich.
Mary gave me her pensive-cop face as she sipped her coffee. ‘You know we’ve got bacon rolls, don’t you?’
‘BLT’s come with healthy salad stuff,’ I explained deadpan, as I squidged the bread back together.
‘That you don’t eat,’ she replied drily.
‘Hey, I eat the tomatoes.’ I pulled out a slice to demonstrate and popped it in my mouth.
‘Only ’cause they’re smothered in mayonnaise.’ Mary grinned, topped up her coffee, added another three lumps of sugar and stirred. ‘And you know you’re just feeling guilty for throwing Finn out in a fit of temper instead of convincing him of Helen’s evil nature.’
I was. I cut her a frown. ‘You taken a psych course or something recently?’
She gave me a mock-stern look. ‘So, you also know you’ll never convince him she’s evil unless he wants you to?’
Didn’t stop me wanting to try. Or better still, find the Witch-bitch, hitting her over the head with her broomstick and putting us all out of her misery. I sank my teeth into the sandwich, tearing off a large bite.
Mary poked me on the shoulder. ‘So ring him. If nothing else it’ll get the guilt out of your system.’
‘He’s probably back in the Fair Lands by now,’ I mumbled after I’d swallowed.
‘Leave a message then,’ she said. ‘Calling him is for your benefit, not his, capiche?’
I chewed thoughtfully. Mary was right. Finn and the Witch-bitch Helen and their relationship weren’t my problem to sort out, even if I had wanted me and Finn to be more than friends. But leaving him a message to let him know I was still his friend and here for him, if or when he came back, would at least make me feel less like I’d thrown him to the wolves.
I dug my phone out.
Chapter Twenty-Five
My phone was dead.
Pushing away ominous thoughts about what that said about my and Finn’s friendship, I squinted at the small cherry-red crystal stuck to the back. Sure enough there was a black starburst crack at its heart; I’d fried the Buffer spell at some point. I sighed and showed Mary. ‘Third time today. First one went soon as I unplugged the damn phone from the charger then, even wearing gloves, my backup did the same. I dropped them off at the office to get fixed. This one’s a spare.’
Mary nodded. ‘Electronics and magic, always iffy, especially with a good dose of high emotions.’
I sniffed. Not to mention I was iffy with magic in the first place.
‘Those Buffers Sylvia makes are good if a bit expensive,’ Mary offered with more sympathy than a fried phone warranted. But then she’d heard me moan about my lack of magical ability more than once.
‘They were Sylvia’s Buffers.’
‘Ahh. You were angry.’
‘Yep.’ And upset, I added silently. I’d call Finn later, once we’d finished here. After all, it wasn’t like he was around to answer.
‘Want me to let your office know you’re fried?’ Mary asked.
‘Thanks,’ I said.
She fished her phone out and sent a text. ‘Done.’
I nodded, then as she scrolled through her messages, asked, ‘So, any news on the zoo kidnap victims yet?’
‘No.’ Frustration turned her brown eyes almost black. ‘We’re going through all the textbook motions, calling for informants to come forward, etc., but other than the usual crazies, so far that’s a bust. And there’s been no ransom demand of any sort. Which, since they were snatched yesterday morning, the negotiator says there should’ve been by now.’
‘Think it’s an inside job?’
‘Difficult to say without speaking to the victims’ families and associates. Which is hard with the Bangladeshi ambassador still claiming diplomatic immunity.’ Her grip on her cup tightened in exasperation. ‘Apparently he’s spending his time praying for his wife and child’s safety at London’s Central Mosque. Which is all well and good, but if he’d let us help, we might have a shot at finding them.’
‘So, no luck getting that bloodstained kurta the bodyguard was wearing for a scrying?’
‘No. The DI’s put in a written request, but they’ve not even come back with an acknowledgement. Even more worrying is that his security refuse to give us anything to use as a focus, not even some of the kid’s toys.’
‘You were going to try a psychic scry?’ I asked, surprised. Psychic scrying was way harder and less successful than standard scrying, which used hair, nail clippings, blood or other bodily fluids.
‘We were hoping to do a combined. The kid’s only six, so something’s bound to have ended up in his mouth at some point. I still find Emily chewing on things.’ Emily, Mary’s daughter, was nine. ‘It was a long shot, but anything’s worth doing in these situations.’ She gave a wry twist of her lips but I could see the worry etching into her soul; abducted children were always the hardest cases for everyone to deal with, even more so for parents. All that horrific imagining of ‘things that could happen’ combined with the natural protective urges really take a toll.