Soon he will ask why I was in the woods, and I still have no idea what to say. Simple is best, I suppose, yet my head pounds between my eyes and I cannot think straight.
He is the man who dragged me into this mess. Thesituation is spiralling out of control, and I need to escape him as soon as possible.
He glances at me briefly, then back to the road. “Don’t worry. There’s no impropriety.”
Of course he would say that: no impropriety—unless you count the fact he wants to kill me.
“My sister and her three daughters are in the same building,” he continues. “Plenty of female company. I work long hours, so I won’t be about much, but it’ll give you time to get sorted. We can look into government assistance, paperwork and so on. What sort of magic do you have?”
Oh no. He slipped that in, didn’t he, almost off-hand, as though the most important question were nothing at all.
Come on, House—no,Harper. Think.
Some mages sense another’s magic instantly; others must be told. Asking isrude, but answering wrongly is risky. For now, he does not know. He does not need to know.
I’m magically depleted—that buys time.
If I admit I am a paper mage and have failed to wipe evenonerecord, I am finished; I may be skilled, but my magic is not foolproof. The Magic Hunter could learn who I was before—a coincidence too glaring to ignore.
A woman who is a paper mage and a destroyed sentient house, also a paper mage, appearing and disappearing at the same time? Anyone could connect those dots, and Lander is no fool.
I need to be a nobody in this life.
And if my magic returns and he is attuned—Council members usually are—then any lie I tell will turn on me.
A familiar tactic: when in trouble, say nothing.
My head is hurting.Focus.Normal people do not stay silent for so long. I must stay grounded. I no longer have filaments. No split attention, no magic to gather information, just one brain, one brand new body.
Anxiety is debilitating.
“I would rather not say,” I whisper.
His expression blanks. His jaw ticks, as though he is grinding his teeth.
“There was an explosion,” I say, throwing logic back at him like a shield. “I used the last of my magic to keep myself alive. The backlash knocked me out, and when I came to, a man I had never met was standing over me.”
I pause, breath catching. “Since then, that stranger has carried me through the woods, put me in his car, introduced me to people who discussed my health as though I were not even present, and now I’m back in that car, heading who knows where. You claim to work for the Ministry of Magic, yet I have seen no proof.”
My voice tightens. “Mr Kane, at the moment I have no magic to defend myself, and I am frightened. Please give me a little grace.”
I am unsure whether my speech has swayed him. He remains unmoved and simply keeps driving.
I have probably offended him—ignorance of the great Lander Kane can’t have done his ego any favours—yet he must realise how dreadful this situation is for me.
His eyes leave the road, and I meet his pale gaze, unflinching.
“If you won’t answer my question,” he says, “then tell me this: how strong a magic user are you?”
Unless you flaunt your power, no one really knows. When I was House, I could read magic like a second language. I knew what a person’s magic was and if it was weak or strong, but for most it is a guessing game.
Which means I can lie.
“Not very,” I say, and leave it there.
Chapter Fifteen
I presumewe are heading to his house, yet we take a road that ends at a towering building where every street seems to converge. It is clad in black stone that devours the light, silver runes coiling over the surface like snakes.
