“Hey, Valens?”
“Yeah?” He jogged over, swearing when he saw what I did.
The hearthstone had been shattered, the fire burnt to ash and long cold.
The gnome and his magic were not here anymore.
“How much power do you think it took to shatter a stone that big?” I asked, squatting down to get closer to the rock in question.
It had been huge, one large gray stone slab across the front of the double-width fireplace. Now the two large ends were heavily cracked, and the center was little more than sharp gravel, practically ground to dust.
Whoever had come after this gnome had meant business.
“At least we know why he didn’t deliver the devices now,” Valens said, pushing up and away from the wreckage as he spun to face the room.
“What are you thinking?” I asked, following suit.
“Maybe he hid them somewhere before he was taken.”
“You think this was a kidnapping?” I asked, looking at the scene with fresh eyes. There was no blood, no sign—or, more importantly, stench—of a decaying body. It was as good a theory as any.
He nodded, pointing to a key ring by the back door. “His car is still out back, and his wallet is still on the shelf. A typical robber would have taken both of those things. But whoever did this wanted Sandrine, not his money or his trinkets.”
“So, best-case scenario, he’s wrapped up in some unrelated turf war and got nabbed. Worst-case scenario… our enemies now have a powerful magical crafter enslaved and churning out Goddess knows what for them?”
“That was my thought.”
I ran a hand through my hair, my eyes going unfocused as I stared back toward the hearthstone.
“Maybe we can tell who did this. There has to be a clue around here somewhere,” he said under his breath, thinking out loud.
“Magical assailants rarely leave typical evidence,” I rattled off a line from one of my training manuals, drawn again to the stone for some unknown reason. Something about it bothered me.
“Doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try,” he countered, riffling through the kitchen drawers as if there might be a written confession tucked between the cutlery.
I sank to my knees, still staring at that stone. There was nothing unusual about it, no hum of magical energy as I would have expected from what Valens had described about how gnomes crafted. I reached out, trailing my fingers over the stone lightly enough to feel the natural dips and grooves in the surface until I reached the edge.
Something sharp sliced my fingertip, blood welling up immediately as I snatched my hand away, cursing.
Valens was at my side in an instant, on high alert. “What happened?”
I waved him back, showing him the small slice on the end of my finger. “Nothing, just not looking out for sharp edges.”
The first drip fell, landing on the hearthstone.
A chaotic whirl of colors flashed before my vision in a dizzying array, and I sat back on my haunches with a cry.
“What’s wrong? Was it booby-trapped?” He hovered at my side, patting at my shoulders and arms as if he could physically swat away the problem.
“I don’t know, I’m just seeing…” I trailed off, the colors calming into a single, coherent thread.
It practically sparkled as it trailed across the stone, pink and purple hues twined together, fuzzy and sparkling and… alive?
Was Iseeingmagical signatures?
Pixie.
My wolf’s voice came sure and steady, her attention fixed on the glimmering thread of latent energy.
