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“Why don’t you talk a little louder?” he hissed, hauling her down the hallway until he pushed her into an abandoned classroom, which appeared to double as a storage room, shelves stacked with dusty supplies.
“Yes, I have your sample, and I’m in the process of analyzing it,” he said, closing the door behind them.
Dawson was probably going to present the results to Obryn as if it had been his idea. It shouldn’t annoy her, but staring at his smug face, she was ready to wield the dark mist again. “I was going to test it myself,” Mira said. “You didn’t have to steal the sample from me.”
“Steal? Hardly. I thought you left it for me as a reward.”
“Ha! And what would I be rewarding you for? I think you do a fine job patting yourself on the back.”
He straightened the knot of his tie, and his eyes fell on her right hand. “How’s that signifier working out for you?”
Mira didn’t have to check if her Shadowflame was moving. She could feel its restlessness.
When she didn’t reply he added, “You’re welcome.”
The nerve of him. “If anyone owes thanks, it’s you. After all, it was me who got the sample of spent magic from Buckley’s house.”
He huffed a laugh. “Yes, let’s revisit how brilliant a plan that was. Maybe next time you could do something less reckless?”
“Can’t make any promises.”
“Which is why I’m withholding the address of the second victim.”
“There has been another murder?”
He gave a nod. “Fits our criteria. I’m working on getting a blood sample for you.”
“Without the body, all I can do is isolate the poison. I won’t be able to tell what injuries they sustained.”
“And you won’t need to. If the body has the poison, then that’s all we need to know.”
“All right, when are you—”
The wooden floor creaked in the corner of the room. From behind the shelf emerged two students. Mira tried to remember their names because she’d seen them in class.
Dawson stilled next to her to the point that she wasn’t even sure he was still breathing.
The Wielder stepped closer and grinned, his lips still red from his girlfriend’s lipstick. “And here I thought the great Aidric Dawson was taking the Caster girl to my secret make-out spot,” he said. “But I do prefer murder mysteries.”
The shadows on Dawson’s hand flickered with wickedness, but even he couldn’t use Dark Magic on fellow students. It was one of the most sacred rules at Ivercrest and would result in instant expulsion.
The blonde leaned against her boyfriend and smiled at Mira. “I see you finally got your first signifier. Good for you. I think it’s so selfless of Aidric to train a Caster. I applaud charity work.”
Mira didn’t care about the stupid jab against her. She was more concerned with how they were going to keep these two from talking. Maybe Obryn could force the Wielders to keep quiet?
“What do you want, Cavender?” Dawson asked in a cold tone.
“I’m on your side. We Wielders have to stick together. I won’t say a word about this little group project and whatever other extracurricular activities you two have going on. Me and Maureen are going to keep our mouths shut.”
Maureen pretended to lock her lips and throw away the invisible key. Cavender walked over and put his hand on Dawson’s shoulder. Mira held her breath, watching how Dawson’s silver eyes cooled in temperature. Cavender seemed oblivious to it.
“All we want in exchange is a weekly deposit of ten thousand quants, which I know for someone like you is nothing. Look at it as payments for a service rendered. I think it’s more than fair since—”
The spell zapped through the air so fast, so ferociously, Mira had no time to process it until dark shadows latched like tentacles onto Maureen and Cavender, who both froze. Their eyes had turned solid white.
Dawson stepped out from Cavender’s touch and brushed his jacket as if it had been infected by a rare disease. Then he lifted his arm in an elegant swoop. He closed his eyes while his fingers moved as if he was flipping through pages. His Shadowflame flickered methodically.
Mira understood then what he was doing. She had read about a Dark Magic spell that could erase specific memories. It was a highly advanced spell that used the internum signifier. If done incorrectly, the victim would never be the same.
