Page 26 of Booked for Murder

I shrugged. “What the senators talk about in our building isn’t really any of our business. As for my identification, it was easy enough. I had one document falsified, got the government to fall for that, and claimed I’d lost the rest of my documents. They then rated me, but I’ve been trained to deal with dampening my ability for long enough to pass a rating test. Most are only trained for an hour, as it’s really difficult to mask the symptoms. That I lasted longer than an hour made them believe in the accuracy of the test. It was rather miserable.”

“How miserable?”

“I felt it the next morning, that’s for sure. Don’t try it. It’s really unpleasant. I only did it because I needed to. With my specific ability, if I rated as able to use magic at all, it would have been discovered I’m an exsanguinator. I have very few skills with other magic types, and it’s almost impossible to hide if you’re an exsanguinator during the tests. My only chance of avoiding detection was to be in the one bracket that didn’t count as a pure but lacked sufficient magic to manifest in any fashion whatsoever.”

“That makes sense. It was the only way you could hide.”

“Right.”

“I never would have thought you, of all people, could be an adept.”

“That’s what I wanted you to think, Beatrice.”

“Well, it worked. I’m just amazed anyone who could live life as an adept would want anything else.”

“Among adepts, you use, or you’re used. I fell into the used category. Maybe I’m not rolling in wealth, I can’t drive fast cars anymore, and a whole lot of other things, but those other things came at a price—one I realized I was tired of paying. So here I am. Maybe I’m not rich, maybe I can’t walk all that well, but I have a cute cat, a good job, and work I enjoy. From where I’m sitting, I’m a lot better off with my shit rating than I ever was as an adept.”

“But people have written literal books about you and your abilities.”

“That doesn’t mean anything, Beatrice. I lived for someone else. Now I live for me. That freedom is without compare.”

“But you signed a for life contract.”

On the outside, a for life contract seemed like a good deal, but it’d only taken a year or two for the shine to wear off. I missed specific things, but everything came at a price. “I was young, foolish, and as always, I put everyone else above myself. I did it for my parents. Bradley Hampton is going to discover I’m not going to be as easy to lure back into that cage, no matter how confident he is of his victory.”

“Well, this is going to be fun,” Beatrice muttered.

“If by fun, you mean a living nightmare, you’re right.”

“To say the least, I plan on bringing extra popcorn with me. I’ll need it.”

“Bring alcohol, and plan to drink right out of the bottle.”

“You know what? I just might.”

Almost two hours after leaving, Bradley returned. Bradley’s bodyguard reminded me of a bar bouncer, one who’d rolled into work while still hungover. While he wore a suit, he hadn’t bothered with any of the little things that helped a man wear one well. Not only had he forgone using a tie clip, he hadn’t set the length properly, a blind squirrel could’ve done a better job on the knot, and he wore a bulky shoulder holster announcing to the world he was armed.

I rated him as dangerous, but not due to the weapon he carried.

When guarding someone’s life, the details mattered.

“Don’t start, Janette,” Bradley warned, placing several white, plastic bags onto my coffee table. The bodyguard carried two trays of coffee, which joined the haul. Without a word, he left and closed the door behind him. A half-decent professional would’ve at least stayed by the door, but Bradley’s man thumped down the hallway and left. “Okay, now you can start.”

“Did you pick him up out of a dive, or were you just dredging the bottom of barrels for fun?”

“What about him bothers you?”

“Ask me what doesn’t bother me. The list is shorter.”

“All right. What about him doesn’t bother you?”

“Absolutely nothing. He probably uses an overpowered firearm to compensate for his inability to do the rest of his job.”

I would have been standing near the door, but not too close to the door, and keeping an eye on Beatrice as though she had a reputation of kicking half-drowned puppies. On the job, my protective streak had been several miles wide.

Some of those habits remained, and I clacked my teeth together and grumbled curses over his bodyguard’s lack of care.

Bradley laughed, checked the lids of the coffee, and put Beatrice’s usual order in front of her before selecting the chocolate hazelnut concoction and handing it to me. “As she’s allergic to nuts, I’m assuming she ordered this for you. Ren is doing what he’s doing on my orders, Janette. I wanted to see how you would react. Ren may not look like it, but I’m sure he’s having an anxiety attack or three in the car. The only reason I’m getting away with this is because I’m armed with more than my Ruger, and he’s unwisely confident in my willingness to use my various weaponry.”