Page 50 of Wrongfully Magicked
I give him a grateful nod. When I would have released his hand, he tightens his grip and takes a step closer, claiming a spot at my side. “What do you see?”
My eyes immediately return to the body strung between the trees. It takes a moment before I finally register what’s been bothering me, and I can’t stifle my gasp. I don’t take my eyes away from the corpse, hoping I’m wrong. “At the other crime scenes, were the bodies devoid of magic?”
Porter gives me a look that clearly states that he’s questioning my sanity. “They are dead bodies. When a person dies, their magic dies with them.”
I shoot him an annoyed look. “That’s not what I asked. Even a dead body still has decaying magic left behind. While it might no longer be workable magic, you can still sense their magical signature.”
I glance back at the corpse, tilting my head as I scan him again. “So why can’t I sense any magic? Like, none at all? It’s as if the curse cracked open his body while he was alive, then sucked the magic out of him. His magic was gone before he died.”
The guys each whip around to look at the victim again. After a moment, Cassius curses, while Porter scowls and glances at the others. “How the fuck did we miss that?”
Soren steps closer, sniffing the area, and I barely resist the urge to yank him away. Though the curse is gone, the stench of dark magic still taints the air, and I don’t like having any of the guys near it.
Darby pulls out his phone, the thing nearly large enough to be a tablet. Magic rises from his skin, and my mouth drops open when the screen of the tablet begins to scroll with massive amounts of data that I have no hope of reading—all without touching the screen.
No wonder Darby doesn’t have any tech grafted to his body. He doesn’t need it. He’s powerful enough to connect to devices with his mind alone. His magic crackles like static against my skin, the sensation like butterfly kisses, as if his magic is curious and trying to read me. I remain still, not wanting to scare it away. He’s so focused on his task, I don’t think Darby is even aware of it.
“She’s right,” Darby says, a furrow between his brows as he studies the data. “No magic has been detected on the bodies at any of the crime scenes.”
Stealing magic is illegal and considered murder by most.
We can’t live without some form of magic. Maybe we could have in the past, but we’re too reliant on it now. Without that spark, our bodies are just meat suits with no one at the helm. The reverse is true as well—magic without a body to contain it turns wild and feral.
Most people are repulsed by the thought of stealing magic, not out of any delicate sensibilities, but because the process is brutal.
No one has ever successfully harnessed wild magic.
Without the ability to tame it, wild magic is akin to a feral animal and will rip you apart from the inside out, so while some people are always desperate for more power, the risks just aren’t worth it.
Many families have stories of people who tried it in the past and failed.
It’s one of the few crimes where the MID agents are allowed to be executioners.
“Since there is only one body, does that mean someone has successfully figured out how to extract magic?” I shiver, very much feeling like a person just walked over my grave. If my family ever discovered that secret, the world would never be the same again.
No one would be safe.
“We would’ve been able to track the magic if someone managed to take it.” Soren’s gaze lands on me, and his expression turns harsh. “We’re assuming that it’s a trap, but why didn’t it trigger when one of us neared the corpse? Why here, and why now?”
The answer is obvious—me.
“I’m the only variable that’s different.” When no one denies it, my lips tighten. “How could anyone have known I would be with you today? We didn’t even know it until this morning.”
Soren takes a step toward the corpse, sniffing the area. His nose crinkles like he stepped in a steaming pile of unicorn shit, but he doesn’t stop until he completes a full circle around the body. I resist following him, staying on the sidelines and watching him closely. My body is tense, ready to jerk him away in case the magic is triggered again.
When he comes to a stop at my side, I release a shuddering breath. My muscles slowly unclench, and I don’t even try to stop myself from reaching for his arm and pulling him farther away from the danger. Then, I reluctantly peel my fingers off his arm, needing to be ready in case something else happens.
If someone thought they would take him from me, they would have to deal with me first.
I might be weakened, but I’m not helpless.
“Things don’t add up.” Soren scowls down at my hand like it mortally offended him. Looking me right in the eye, he picks up my hand, then places it back on his arm, daring me to remove it again. Only when he’s satisfied does he continue to speak. “The magic didn’t react to us, just Anita. What if it wasn’t a trap, but leftover magic from the curse?”
Everyone’s attention turns toward the corpse, then back toward me, and I barely resist the urge to step away. Porter tips his head, his eyes narrowed in concentration. “You think she and the victim have something in common?”
“Her bloodline,” Cassius says slowly, a grim set to his features. “Her bloodline is different from ours. That’s what triggered the curse. It’s the link we’ve been missing.”
“Darby, pull up the reports on the other cases. Check the victims’ profiles.” Porter rubs a hand along his jaw, his hard eyes never once looking away from me as he issues his orders.
