“I didn’t offer.”
“Would you leave a blind man to fend for himself?”
Hiram doubts there are many who pose a danger to Clinton.
With a sigh, he places Clinton’s hand on his arm and leads him out. Hiram doesn’t realize they’ve walked into a situation until it’s too late. Three enforcers surround a familiar little old woman wearing an oversized sun hat despite the cloudy skies. She doesn’t look strong enough to harm anything, but they have her in neutralizing cuffs tight enough to leave marks. It’s excessive when their perpetrator is already on her knees, defiantly glaring while the enforcers yell different things all at once. Their amulets give off a threatening glow while they demand answers.
It’s none of Hiram’s business. He plans to lead Clinton to his car, but when one of them calls the womanSeer scumand Clinton tenses, Hiram stops.
“As I said—”
Clinton turns sharply. “Ruth? What’s going on?”
Of course he knows her.
Ruth whips to them, relief playing in her eyes. “Clinton, they—” Then she notices Hiram. “Well, shit.” The cuffs burn red, making the old woman wince. “Take these off, I’m complying and these aren’t necessary!”
“You haven’t confessed to anything.”
“Why would I? I’ve done nothing wrong.”
Clinton lets go to approach in an attempt to defuse, but Hiram knows it’s not going to end well for either of them. So he moves. It’s too late. He doesn’t hear the spell but sees the white bolt strike Ruth in the chest, causing her to tremble and grit her teeth in obvious distress while the enforcers continue yelling.
“I would advise that you stop,” Clinton says coolly.
“You can get arrested, too,” a different enforcer threatens.
Hiram intervenes. “What exactly happened here?”
The three enforcers look at him before one says, “We received multiple complaints about a suspicious Seer lurking in shops up anddown the street, breaking into cars, and doing magic. This Seer matched the description and put up a fight, so we used neutralizing cuffs.”
Hiram doesn’t smell a thing except the copper coming off the officers. “Sheused magic?”
“No, I didn’t,” Ruth argues. “You can check for my Imprint!”
“Shut up,” one of the enforcers says through gritted teeth, his amulet flaring.
“I refuse.” Ruth squares her shoulders. “You all have nothing better to do than harass old ladies.”
“You injured one of the patrol members,” the tallest enforcer points out as the shortest one steps back to take a quick call.
“No, your piss-poor attempt to restrain me is what hurt him.”
“Backup is on its way,” the third enforcer says after hanging up their phone, frowning when he notices Clinton, then his walking stick. “Who are you?”
“Clinton Desai,” he replies calmly. “Head of the Oracle Council, and Ruth is a member. Call your superiors. We can discuss this in private.”
“No.”
While they argue, and hopefully before the situation devolves further, Hiram gathers argument points. Two cameras on either side. No hint of magic lingering. The unnatural bruises on Ruth’s arms and neck. The officers’ badge numbers.
He doesn’t finish in time. They’re detaining her. Two haul Ruth to her feet while the third casts a silencing hex on her. Clinton is about to step forward when Hiram holds him back, then pushes past him, getting in the enforcers’ way.
“Sir, get out of the way and let us do our job.”
“Nowwhywould I do that?” Hiram asks calmly. “That Seer is my client.”
“If she’s your client, why didn’t she say that?”
