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“Really?” I hadn’t considered this as a common problem for Constables.
“Most of them are simple spells like fire, so that when the runestone connects with living tissue it sets everything ablaze.”
“But that’s awful!”
Cade nodded his agreement. “Derrick once caught a runestone that trapped him under water. One moment we were chasing this elemental warlock through Belfast and the next Derrick was torn off his feet into a seven-foot wave and held there. He nearly drowned.”
“How did you save him?”
Cade’s smile was rueful as he took one scalpel and turned to me. “I’m the product of a nymph and a selkie, Nora. I do have some command over water, as you’ve seen.”
I couldn’t help peeking at the business edge of the scalpel as he gently took my wounded hand and rested it flat against a clean cloth on the desk. “So you dispelled the water?”
“I did. I sent it crashing after the warlock and Gretchen was able to catch her. It might have been comical except that Derrick nearly turned full werewolf in his fury.”
Biting my lip, I tried to suppress images of Derrick in werewolf form, but they were ingrained in my memory now. The weird angle of his legs, knees bent, ankles turned, feet too long and clawed to be human. His muscular frame had been too tall for the safe house, forcing him to stay hunched over for most of the fight. And his jaws as he’d bitten through one of the vines were sharp canines in a long muzzle. He was the stuff nightmares were made of.
“Does he often lose his temper like that?” I asked.
Cade leaned over my hand, his scalpel ready. “No. Not in a few years anyway. He seems to have it under tight control now.”
Cold steel touched my palm and I forced myself to stare at my feet. “How long have you been working with him?”
“Going on six years now.”
There was pressure, and then a hot line drawn across my skin. The scalpel lifted, turned a bit, slid over my skin once more and I swallowed down nausea. Staring at my feet wasn’t helping so I closed my eyes instead. My knee started bouncing and an unpleasant prickling sensation crawled over my neck. Cade made some sort of soothing sound, but I didn’t want to hear that everything was fine. I didn’t want to think about what he was doing at all, so I concentrated on Derrick instead.
“Does Constable King often use charms to manipulate women?”
Cade hesitated and I opened my eyes, regretting the action in seconds. He had made a cross pattern with his scalpel and peeled back the intersecting corners. Each little triangle of skin was pinned against my palm, leaving an open hole where I could see pink tissue and white bone, and that horrible runestone nestled in between. One of the bones looked to have fused itself to the runestone, and the others were canted in awkward directions.
My stomach turned and I nearly heaved, but Cade moved to cradle the base of my neck. Coolness washed over me, my muscles relaxing little by little as the Constable murmured something soft and lyrical. The nausea didn’t precisely leave, but it seemed somehow distant from me, and I was able to take a steadying breath.
“There now,” Cade said gently. “Crisis averted. And in answer, yes. Constables are encouraged to use the tattoos inked into our skin to ascertain the truth. It is standard in our line of work.”
I flushed. “That’s horrible.”
“You should recall what is at stake,” Cade said, turning back to his tools. He picked up a long, slender needle-like object and what might have been an elegant pair of pliers and focused on my palm once more. “We cannot tell who is innocent and who is guilty by looking at a person’s face, Nora. Everyone has secrets and most people lie. Often we find that we must dig to get to the truth.”
“That’s why you didn’t like me at first glance.”
He looked startled and glanced at my face. “I…” he started, a faint blush coloring his cheeks that was so endearing I smiled. His own smile was rueful, and he nodded his head once. “I did think you were lying at first. And then I knew that you weren’t.”
“How?” I asked as he bent back to his task. “How did you know, I mean?”
I wasn’t sure what I was looking for. He probably read the reports and realized I was the victim of conmen and put the puzzle together. I tried to tell myself not to feel sorry for Martin and Bess, to remember that they had whatever justice the CEB had coming for them, but there was a part of me that still struggled with the revelation. There were moments when Bess was almost affectionate, small kindnesses that couldn’t have been fake.
Cade surprised me by saying, “I just knew. And then I felt like an ass.”
I huffed a laugh. “Well, at least you didn’t kiss me to get to the truth.”
Cade faltered and glanced at my face. “What?”
“So that’s not standard procedure, then?”
I felt a spurt of vindication at this response. There was a flutter in my chest, my mind swooping back to the heat of that moment, the feel of Derrick’s mouth on mine. I cleared my throat and shoved the memory away because Cade was still staring at me in surprise.
I smiled, though it felt a bit weak. “I think he was trying to convince me to read the reports.”
