Gil nodded at him with a grunt, as friendly as he’d ever be. He and Bastion got along decently enough. Gil’s girlfriend used to be Bastion’s partner on the job, after all. And Asher smiled and waved, because Asher saw the best in everybody, even in a pompous telekinetic sorcerer who was an heir to a massive fortune.
I sneered at the thought. I didn’t like the idea of just inheriting large sums of money. I had more respect for people who made it themselves, then earned scads of interest compounded over long periods of time.
What’s that? It’s not fair because I live forever? Here’s my hot financial tip. Shut up.
Bastion tossed his half-eaten apple somewhere into the grass, then hopped off the hood. I grimaced. I knew the brand of jeans he was wearing. Expensive, and they had these sharp rivets on the seat. He could afford to have my hood fixed up, but that wasn’t the point.
“If that paint job is scuffed,” I said, “you’re paying for it. And you still haven’t explained why you’re here.”
He shrugged, sticking his hands into his pockets for warmth. Bastion was dressed mostly in white, very douche-y, by my standards, but very much the favored color of the Lorica’s high mages. It was subtle, to the untrained eye, but his ivory jacket, white jeans, and spotless sneakers were ridiculously expensive, the sort of streetwear that carried a price tag which simply made zero sense. It worked on him, though. Bastion was a good-looking man, and he knew it, too. It just made him even more insufferable.
“I should think that it’s obvious why I’m here. The Lorica monitors magical activity throughout America. We are in America, albeit a tiny part of it. There is magic here. And that’s why I’ve come to grace you with my presence.”
Those were the facts. The Lorica was an organization that governed magic in North America, mainly interested in policing artifacts, individuals, and activities that would risk exposing the arcane community to humans, what we called the normals. Bastion worked high up in the hierarchy as one of its Scions, the Lorica’s most powerful mages.
Now, supernatural creatures like vampires and werewolves weren’t magical people per se, but we all benefited from the same anonymity. It was nice to have moved past bygone days of torches and pitchforks and being buried alive. Nothing ruins your day more than a mob of peasants storming your castle, or so I’m told by my elders. It was why we were in Silveropolis at all: not just for the protection of the normals, but to keep the supernatural community anonymous and safe. Just freaks looking out for our fellow freaks.
“That’s cryptic and irritating, Brandt,” I said. “Tell us why you’re really here.”
Bastion tossed back a stray lock of his hair, his expression going serious. “Fine. We’ve received reports of the killings happening in Silveropolis, and we have reason to believe that nefarious magic is involved. Is that what you wanted to hear?”
Asher cleared his throat. “I mean, we mostly already knew that, though we’re still trying to track down the nature of the killer, specifically.”
“I won’t lie,” Bastion said. “That part has got us stumped. Normally you’d think it was a shapeshifter of some kind – no offense, Gil – but we’ve ruled that out. That’s not how the Blood of Garm rolls.”
Gil gave me a meaningful glare. I returned it with a shrug and an apologetic smile.
Asher snapped his fingers, like he’d happened upon an idea. “Entirely possible that it’s someone who can control animals. Maybe they’re manipulating wolves or something similar, sending them into the woods to attack people.”
Bastion nodded, tapping his temple. “That’s good thinking, actually. Maybe there’s a druid in these parts that we don’t know about.”
“But what’s in it for the Lorica?” I said. “I know that you people like to pretend that this is all about justice and protecting the arcane underground, but it’s always more than that. There’s always a catch, especially if they’re sending in a Scion.”
Bastion’s eyes twinkled, the corner of his mouth hitching into a smile. “You always were very clever, Sterling. I don’t care what anybody else says about you. I always thought you were smart.”
I wrinkled my nose. “Somebody restrain me before I rip him open and suck him out like a grapefruit.” I wasn’t really joking, either. Magical blood, no matter if it was a telekinetic, a necromancer, or a druid, was always uniquely delicious.
Bastion rolled his eyes. “Please. You could try. Don’t forget all the times we’ve butted heads, you and I.”
I grimaced, the remembrance of the pain making me hesitate. It wasn’t an exaggeration to say that Bastion Brandt was one of the most powerful mages of his generation. He came from a long line of talented telekinetics who could move matter with the simplicity and effortlessness of thought. But the Brandts weren’t slouches in the magic department, either, never relying only on their unique talents.
While Bastion specialized in using basically anything within reach as a projectile weapon and raising invisible shields, his arsenal included destructive spells, too. All that aside, his favorite trick was still crushing people, whether with his abilities directly, or the application of some other tremendous force. He once dropped an entire car on me. True story. Not fun.
“But fine,” Bastion said, because he simply couldn’t pass up an opportunity to brag. “If you must know, we’ve heard mention of a powerful artifact. Very interesting thing, coming from such a nondescript town. That’s why I’m here. Bam. Two birds with one stone, because why not? We solve the case and stop the killings, and I go home to the Lorica victorious, with a fresh addition for the Gallery.”
Of course. The Gallery. It was the Lorica’s extensive museum cum library that housed all of its precious artifacts. I exchanged looks with the others, already suspicious of this thing Bastion had mentioned. “What magical item is this, exactly? You know, in case we come across it. We can pawn it off for a pretty penny.”
He scoffed. That was the way with guys like Bastion. You had to get under his skin, bring out his competitive nature. ?
??You would never find the Filigreed Masque before me. That’s just ridiculous. The thing won’t elude us for long. The Lorica has its best Eyes on the case.”
Bastion was full of big talk and bluster, but this was serious business. He was classified as a Scion, but other mages in the organization had their own ranks and roles, too. The seers and scryers who used magic to gather intelligence were known as the Eyes. It was all surveillance work for them, watching the world, or at least America, with sight beyond sight. I frowned up at the sky, lifting my middle finger at the air in general. Bastion burst out laughing.
Asher sighed, grabbing my wrist and lowering my hand. “Fine. Bastion, the truth is, we’ve heard of the Filigreed Masque, too. But there are so many different stories about the thing, all these rumors that talk about what sorts of powers it might have.”
“Curious, isn’t it? I’ve heard everything from shapeshifting to protection enchantments. Damn thing could be dangerous, for all I know. Maybe it rips your face off if you try to wear it. All the more reason for me to take possession of it in the Lorica’s name.”
My fingers curled into fists. Anything that went into the Lorica’s beloved Gallery never came back out. Enchanted items and relics entered the department for filing, depending on how dangerous they were, or how useful they could prove to the organization. But for most of them, they remained in the Gallery forever, part of a growing collection of the Lorica’s seized and confiscated artifacts. It was a museum, but with the most exclusive admission in the world.