She opened her eyes. He was standing on the other side of the table, his hand an inch above hers—and she couldn’t help but jerk back at the thought of the pain if he brushed against her.
He winced. “I wasn’t going to touch you. I just wanted to show you how far my aura extends. Anyway, I was fully charged up those two other times.”
“You’re not now?”
“Magically speaking, I’m as close to normal as I can get.”
She gave this due consideration and then held out her hand. “Okay. Let’s see what that feels like. For curiosity’s sake.”
“Your motto, as near as I can tell,” he muttered, but he retrieved the other chair and sat.
She braced herself. He simply looked at her hand for a moment—she thought of chiromancy, what you might tell about a person’s future from the lines on their palm—and then he pressed the pads of his fingers to hers. A tentative, barely-there touch.
Miracle of miracles, it didn’t hurt. She slid her hand into his.
It felt ... odd. Not at all uncomfortable, but definitely not like anyone else’s hand. Her skin prickled, tingled.
Very interesting. In a … scientific way.
She let go, clearing her throat. He stared at his own hand, the one she’d been holding. A question—she ought to ask a question. “How do you knock magic from your orbit?”
He looked up, blinking as if he’d just come back from a mental place far away. “Sorry?”
She repeated herself. He shrugged. “Once you learn how to sense it’s there, it’s not hard. I’m hoping that’s true of anti-magic.”
How she hated that name.Anti—diametrically opposed to what she wanted and could never have.
“We really should think of something better to call it,” she said, as if that would make a difference.
“It suits, you realize. Do you know anything about antimatter?”
She did, in fact. It sounded like science fiction, so it made an impression. “It’s basically the opposite of normal matter. When the two come into contact, they—” Oh. Right. “They destroy each other,” she muttered.
“And there’s little antimatter in the universe, a nice parallel.”
How much magic had she fried in twenty-six years? How many gadgets had she unknowingly broken? She groaned, head in her hands.
Hartgrave rapped his knuckles against the table. “Focus, Daggett.”
“I know, I know, it just feels like—like I’m guilty of magic manslaughter. Unintentionally evil.”
“Magic,” he said, voice flat, “has been put to uses that are quite intentionally evil.”
This suggested allsortsof questions.How do you know, for starters.
But the moment was gone. He’d galloped onward. “Remember, the less anti-magic clinging to you, the closer to normal you will be, and the more likely you’ll be able to use a computer without my continual intervention.”
She nodded, but he wasn’t finished. “Or to have magic done to you.”
“Oh!” She grasped the table with both hands. “Do you think you could make me weightless? I’ve always wanted to fly—always!”
He stood, a maddening half-smile on his lips. “Practice, then, Daggett.”
He passed so close by as he swept out that his aura made her skin prickle.
8
Field Trip
