Shattered by Magic Page 4

  “Unfortunately, he’s not very forthcoming with information, although I suppose that’s hardly surprising. His pockets were empty, save for this.” She lifts up a bag containing an empty vial, which I recognise immediately.

  “It matches the one you handed us when you first started working here.”

  “Air,” I say, the word catching in my throat.

  The Augur-enhancing drug, fatal to Normals, is the only thing, other than the Duke, that people talk about here. It makes those with abilities more powerful but also erratic and pliable, as the Magic Circle members have shown.

  It also happened to be the drug of choice for Carlton Munday, before he lost his mind.

  “Indeed. I’ll be sending this to the lab for analysing, but we have to assume that Mulberry is intoxicated.”

  “If it can be analysed, can we find out where he got it from?” I ask hoarsely.

  “Absolutely. We can trace it right down to the dealer if we’re lucky,” she says, putting the evidence back on her desk. “The girls in IT are also looking at the computers we brought in. I believe that may be our ticket to finding Ella for you,” she says, her face softening a bit when she mentions her name.

  Something in my chest stirs. A sliver of hope that I quickly try to quash before it takes root.

  “Very good, ma’am,” I say, trying to keep my voice level.

  “Your training seems to be paying off,” she comments, “but your camera and comms went mysteriously inactive at the top of the building. Did you spot anything that might have caused that?” The question is sharp and accusing, but remembering what Agnes said about trusting the wrong people, I choose to shrug it off.

  I’m a terrible liar, or so I’ve been told, so ignoring the accusation is easier. She narrows her eyes, but I keep mine forward and my hands behind my back in a casual, at-ease position, hoping she can’t see me sweat.

  “Hmm,” she replies, sounding unconvinced. “Well, that wasn’t why I called you in here. The fact that Mulberry had a vial of Air in his possession is worrying. The distribution of the drug is on the rise again, despite having it re-categorised as a Class A drug.” She sighs, picking up a report off her desk.

  “You think that the Magic Circle have changed tactics? That they’ve gone from terrorists to drug dealers now?”

  “The Magic Circle have all but disappeared. No sightings, no incidents, and no attacks since last year. I should be happy about that, but after finding out that Carlton Munday had them all on Air, as well as himself, it is certainly a cause for concern.”

  “You think they’re planning something?”

  “I don’t know, Curtis, but it seems an odd coincidence. A bunch of addicted teenagers that vanish at the same time as Ella? My gut tells me there’s trouble afoot and that, somehow, the Duke is involved.”

  She hands me a report off her desk, which clearly shows a bunch of red lines on a graph going steeply up, representing the increase in Air-related arrests.

  “Yikes.”

  “Yikes, indeed. I need more fire power, faster. With Augur licensing laws, it’s getting tougher to recruit Augurs into the government. I am grateful that Jer, Lou, and Marco are willing to work for us on their current terms.”

  “Well, they’re good people. They want to help.” I give a faint smile, handing the report back.

  “Come on, Curtis. They do it for you, and you know it.” She raises an eyebrow. “If circumstances were different and Ella’s life wasn’t on the line, they’d still follow you into the line of fire.”

  I snort at that, although it isn’t that funny. “I doubt it. I don’t control any of them, and they’re the first people to remind me of that.”

  She shakes her head. “It’s not about control. It’s about loyalty, and that is far more powerful than simply being able to order people about.”

  It’s a weird thing, getting advice from Miss Banks. Just when I think she’s no more capable of emotion than a stone statue, she comes out with stuff like this.

  “On a serious note, the Civil Defence Minister is skeptical about your involvement with field missions.”

  This comes as no surprise after our little run-in with the shrink and the snippets of conversation I just overheard, but I still feel the need to look concerned. I open my mouth to say something and then close it, waiting to see if she’ll come to my defence like Crossley did.

  “She thinks that you’re high-risk, unexperienced, and too emotionally involved with our targets. That and the fact that you’re only eighteen.”

  “Nineteen in two weeks,” I interject, before checking myself. She frowns at the interruption but lets it slide.

  “Either way, still our youngest field op and not a particularly skilled one, at that—though, Crossley assures me you learn fast. You got lucky today, so I’m inclined to ignore the warnings from my direct senior for now. Besides, I need you for one very specific task,” she says, walking over to her door and opening it.

  “You can come in, Crossley,” she says abruptly.

  “Yes, boss,” he replies, sounding a little strained.

  Crossley enters and stands next to me in a similar stance, hands casually behind his back, legs slightly akimbo, only he looks so much better than me when he does it. Miss Banks gives him a cursory nod and then turns back to me.

  “He’s asked to see you.”

  “Who?”

  “Giles Mulberry. He refuses to talk to anyone else, but he’s promised to cooperate if we send you in.”

  Despite the claustrophobic heat in the office, I feel goosebumps raise on my arms.

  “He’s being incredibly stubborn, and as I’ve explained, we are under some serious scrutiny from above,” she says, raising her eyebrows. “I’m inclined to give him what he wants if it will provide us with some intel.”

  I give her a look of alarm. “Miss Banks, I don’t think that’s wise. I mean, I know I just caught the guy, but putting me in a locked cell with him? That can’t lead to anything good,” I say, taking a step away from her as if she just sprouted horns and a tail.

  “It’s not up for debate, Curtis. It’s an order. Crossley,” she says, fixing him with her dark eyes, “you’ll be accompanying Curtis. Make sure he doesn’t mess up the prisoner more than he has to, and take down everything that is said.”

  “Very good, ma’am,” Crossley says, giving me a worried look when he thinks she isn’t looking. It doesn’t do anything for my confidence.

  “Miss Banks, please, I’m not the right person for this job. Who’s to say he doesn’t just want me in there so that he can piss me off?”

  “That may well be the case, but I have a feeling that he’s known about your relationship with the Duke for far longer than you have. If he’ll only speak to you, there must be a reason for it. All we want is to illicit an emotional response from him, which is something I have no doubt you can manage.”

  Something about this feels off, and doubt creeps into my mind. Mulberry could lead us to Ella and the Duke. Or he could just want to twist the knife further into my back, simply for the satisfaction of seeing me react. I suppose there’s only one way to find out. While I ponder the ramifications of being let loose in a room with a man I just pulverised, she continues.

  “Adam is going to accompany you, but I’m advising him to stay out of sight. I think if Mulberry sees you’re alone, he’s far more likely to say or do something that will give us a lead.”

  I’m waiting for the part where she asks me whether I think this is a terrible idea or not, but she doesn’t.

  “You need to be aware that he had some military training in his early twenties. He may be in his fifties now, but I don’t think he’s forgotten it, although he may be a bit rusty. Be prepared for anything.”

  I glance back at the file and find confirmation of what she told me. No active duty though, so that works in my favour. One of Crossley’s many recent lessons had included telling me not to pick a fight with a soldier. Being ex-Special Forces himself, he speaks fr
om two tours of experience.

  “No backup?” I ask tentatively.

  “The fewer people who know about this, the less trouble we can get into,” she replies grimly. My nerves stretch a little tighter in a combination of excitement and terror.

  “Oh, and we still haven’t labeled his Augur ability,” she adds, as if that’s not the most important thing about stepping into a room with someone who can use magic.

  “So, we don’t know what he can do?” I ask.

  Crossley winces every time I speak without being asked a question, which I usually find quite entertaining, but once again, Miss Banks lets it go. She shakes her head in reply.

  “Can I have Lou with me? Or Marco?”

  “No. I’m already taking a tremendous risk by giving you access to that part of the complex, and I don’t want to draw too much attention to the fact that you’ll be going in on Adam’s pass card.”

  Wow. That is one hell of a risk.

  “Okay,” I say, steeling myself. “When do we do this?”

  “Right now.”

  “Wait, what? But I haven’t really had any interrogation training at all. Shouldn’t I get briefed or something?” I ask, nervous already.

  “Consider that your briefing. Crossley will do the rest on your way over.” She stands and clacks back round to take a seat at her desk, indicating that the conversation is over.

  Crossley tugs my arm and gestures for us to exit. I follow him out, glancing back at Miss Banks, who acts as if we were never there. With barely a grunt from Sunglasses Steve, we head towards the prisoner end of the complex, but no matter how many times I tell myself to calm down, I can’t shake the feeling that something terrible is about to happen.

  CHAPTER 3

  The entrance to the interrogation cells are familiar to me. After all, that’s where I found myself last December, when Miss Banks and Steve picked me up and tried to beat information out of me. I blame the sinking feeling I’m getting in the pit of my stomach on nerves. Maybe she didn’t want Jer down here because he was held captive too?

  Crossley’s body language is stiffer than usual. The muscles in his neck are tense, and as he walks it seems like every step is an effort, which is unlike him.

  “Why do I get the impression you don’t like the idea of this?” I whisper, because it feels as if even the walls have ears.

  “Do you?” he shoots back at me with more hostility than I expected.

  “Well, no,” I reply defensively, “but I can tell there’s something bothering you, boss.”

  A flicker of what I think may be guilt flutters across his face before he shakes his head and sighs.

  “You’ll see why I don’t think we should be down here soon enough.” He doesn’t elaborate, so I follow his lead and keep quiet, my eyes skipping this way and that while I seek out whatever it is that’s putting him on edge.

  We pass through the corridor with the one-way-glass rooms, and I’m relieved to find no one being held inside. No run-of-the-mill citizens being questioned and kept against their will like I was. The door at the end has a little basket outside it and a red placard on the wall, which reads:

  NO ELECTRONICS PAST THIS POINT.

  Crossley chucks his phone into the basket and indicates I do the same. Clever. I can see that the closer we get to the cells, the more mechanical it becomes. A set of keys to open one door, a huge bolt to open another. They’ve been smart enough to insulate the place and remove all the electricity so that any Augurs imprisoned down here can’t use their abilities to escape. I don’t know whether I find that relieving or sickening. If it were Marco or Jer or Lou in there, I wouldn’t be so happy about it, but I push the thought away.

  By the time we reach the end of the route, it seems like we must be in the bowels of the earth. The air is damp and stifling, and the only light source comes from gas lamps. That wouldn’t stop Edward Clarence from using his pyrotechnic abilities, but I don’t know any other Augur that can manipulate fire like he can, so I suppose over all it’s the safest form of light.

  The corridor we eventually step into has five cells, two doors on each side, and another at the far end. So far, I’ve refrained from speaking, but now I feel I need to have some questions answered.

  “How many people are down here?” I whisper.

  “Four,” Crossley replies, pointing at the first two cells. “The Butler and the chauffeur.” He points to the third. “The earthquake kid from that hospital incident a few months ago… and the big baddie,” he says, pointing to the cell at the end.

  I feel a spike of terror when I look at the door. Is it just me, or is it darker down that end? The thought that there’s only a few feet of concrete between myself and Carlton Munday gives me a terrible feeling, like a cold hand creeping up behind me. I hope I’m imagining the tingle in my back where it was broken by him last year. It’s long since healed, but it’s almost as if the old injury site reacts to being near its cause. I shake my head at how ridiculous I’m being, but the thought still lingers.

  “What do I need to do?” I ask my superior. He gives me a sympathetic look before handing over his gun to me. I frown at it; I don’t have any kind of permit to hold his weapon, and I haven’t even tried to get one.

  “Take it, Curtis. I know you prefer to use your fists, but with people like this, you can’t be too careful. I have another, and I’ll be right here taking notes.”

  “No recording devices?”

  “Everything needs electricity, and that’s the last thing we want around these guys. Luckily, there’s a panel here that I can use as a look-in, so at least I can overhear you. I’ll be able to see you through this small one-way window, too, if you take in a light.”

  He grabs something from a box by the door and uses one of the gas lamps to ignite it. It’s a candle.

  “Seriously?” I ask, taking it from him.

  “Hey, you want to interview him in the dark, or do you want to be able to see his face?” Crossley gives me a grim smile and a pat on the shoulder.

  “Good point. Okay.” I take a few deep breaths and step aside so that he can unlock the door. “Here goes nothing.”

  The room is stifling and smells of sweat and fear. I can’t see much, but I just about make out the ATU-standard metal desk bolted to the floor, along with a chair and a mattress in the corner. There’s probably a toilet and a hatch for food somewhere, but I don’t need to investigate further; the man I want is sitting on the chair, in handcuffs, as though he’s been waiting for me.

  “Hi, Mulberry,” I say, sounding terrified despite myself.

  “Good evening, Master Mayes. I would offer you a beverage, but as you can see, my hands are a little tied up.” He raises the handcuffs and smiles grotesquely, the dried blood from his face wounds cracking as he does so.

  “Glad to see you’ve got a sense of humour under that stuffy exterior,” I say, keeping my distance and leaning against the wall, candle in one hand and the gun by my side in the other.

  “You look weary, Master Mayes. Are the government making you work too hard?” he asks mockingly. There isn’t a trace of genuine concern or worry on his face, which puts me on alert. He should be upset that he’s in prison, shouldn’t he?

  “I’m fine, but thanks for noticing. I’ve been working overtime, trying to find my girlfriend, who was kidnapped two months ago. Any idea where she is?”

  He sighs. “Ella this, Ella that. I’m sure your comrades are sick of hearing you talk about her.”

  I wince. Somehow that hurt more than I should allow it to.

  “I could tell you where she was, Master Mayes, but she’s out of your grasp. No sooner would you find her than she’d be gone again.”

  “Because she’s with my aunt?” He doesn’t need to reply for me to already know the answer to that one. The way he breaks eye contact says it all. I curse, finding the worst name I can for the traitorous cow, and thump the grip of the gun against the wall in frustration.

  “That’s not a very nice wa
y to speak of your Aunt Matilda.” Mulberry smirks.

  “You know what’s not nice? Pretending to be someone’s friend, ally even, and then helping to kidnap their girlfriend. She’s as guilty of doing that as you are, by the way.” I shoot him a dirty look, but he ignores it. This is getting us nowhere.

  “She’s a complicated woman, even more so after the accident. Both her and my employer have suffered tremendous hardship over the years, emotionally and physically. They have Munday to thank for that. He’s been the source of pain for all of our families.” He drops his voice to a low growl. “More than even you could ever know.” Those last few words make me wonder what pain Mulberry was put through. I stay quiet, watching to see if he lets anything else slip, but he only looks down at his lap and fiddles with a link of his handcuffs, turning it round and round between a thumb and forefinger. It makes a cold, scraping noise that echoes around the cell and drives straight into my nerves.

  I haven’t done much training in the subject of interrogation, but I do think that this could be a sign of agitation. Underneath his calm exterior, something is bothering him, and I need to find out what it is.

  “What did you lose, Mulberry? What did Munday do to you?” I ask quietly, perching on the edge of the table in front of him. He grimaces, turning his head away.

  “Not what, Master Mayes, but whom.”

  I’ve been hanging around the Society for long enough to know that nothing is coincidental, and some recollection prickles the back of my mind. They lost someone while trying to steal information about Munday’s involvement with the Facility.

  “The Duke mentioned a girl who had died trying to get intel on Munday. Was she related to you?”

  He nods ever so slightly and closes his good eye, I imagine blocking out the painful images I’ve brought to the surface. I think about Munday, what he looked like right before he broke my spine, but instead of me, I place a pretty girl in his grasp, and instead of Ella screaming from a distance, I image Mulberry standing to the side, horror on his face. It’s not hard to see why he hates Munday so much, just like I do.