Gunmetal Magic: A Novel in the World of Kate Daniels

rearranging furniture must be killer.
    “Hi,” Kate said with a big fake smile.
    Don’t overdo it, woman. Come on.
    Curran just stared. Jesus Christ, those two couldn’t lie their way out of a paper bag.
    “To what do I owe the pleasure?” he asked.
    “We have something important…to discuss,” Curran said.
    I hit my hand on my face. Brilliant, Your Majesty. Not suspicious at all.
    “In private. Inside,” Kate said.
    Raphael looked at Curran then slowly at Kate. “Please come in. I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner. For some reason all of the plumbing in the Clan Bouda House came apart and my mother called me.”
    “What do you mean, came apart?” Kate asked.
    “I mean that every coupling and fitting in the house has been pulled open,” Raphael said.
    “I didn’t know you were in the plumbing repair business,” Curran said.
    “I’m in the good son business. I couldn’t leave my mother in the house with no running water.” Raphael opened the door. “Some idiot likely pulled a prank. It’s a house full of boudas.”
    “What’s this?” Kate asked pointing at the bundle.
    “An apology for being a selfish asshole.” Raphael unwrapped the canvas, revealing the instantly identifiable shape of a high-tech compound bow: low-tech bows were bent outward, like a crescent, but this bow’s center bent inward, toward the archer. I zoomed in. Lightweight, a hollow carbon fiber riser with the telltale Celtic knot grid pattern, dampers to absorb the recoil vibration, ornate cams, string suppressors…Oh Jesus Christ, he was holding an Ifor compound bow. Sleekest, leanest, meanest bow on the market, with pinpoint accuracy and a vibration-free shot delivered in complete silence. It wasn’t a bow, it was death wrapped in a dream and twenty-first-century engineering. They were made in Wales by a single artisan family, one at a time. I had been trying to buy one for ages, but there was a waiting list a mile long and UK buyers were given a strong preference. How could he even get one? Where?
    “Do you think she’ll like it?” Raphael asked.
    “She’ll love it,” Kate said. “But I don’t think buying her things will work.”
    For me! The bow was for me!
I dropped my tablet.
    Raphael glanced up. “Did you hear something?”
    Oh crap.
    “No,” Curran said. “Can we come in?”
    “Of course.” Raphael wrapped the bow back up.
    I switched to the foyer camera.
    The door swung open.
    I held my breath.
    Raphael stepped inside.
    I tapped the screen, splitting it in two and zooming the right half on his face.
    Raphael opened his mouth and froze.
    The entire house was covered in purple ultra-long shag carpet.It wasn’t just purple, it was bright, vivid, psychotic grape-purple. It made my eyes bleed after a mere five seconds. Medrano Reclamations had pulled miles of it out of some warehouse they had reclaimed, and Stefan had sold the entire lot to me dirt cheap, because nobody in their right mind would ever buy it.
    I had covered everything: the floor, the walls, the ceiling. The elegant couches, the dark rough-wood coffee table, the swords on the wall, the fireplace. I had wrapped the logs in the fireplace.
    Raphael just stood there and stared, his face a mask of utter shock.
    Behind him Curran froze in place. Kate put her hand over her mouth, trying not to laugh.
    Slowly Raphael walked inside over what once had been his pricy tile and now was just a sea of cushy, hideous purple, and looked at the kitchen.
    The island was a block of carpet. I had wrapped his pots and pans hanging from the frame identical to the one he had installed at my place. I had wrapped the frame. The fridge. The stove. The butcher block, each knife handle wrapped lovingly in the purple nightmare.
    “Wow,” Kate said. “I had no idea you liked carpet so much, Raphael.”
    “What is it that you wanted to discuss?” Raphael asked, his voice monotone.
    “We’ll do it later,” Curran said. “You’re obviously too tired. Come on, Kate.”
    She hesitated. “But…”
    “We need to go and do that other thing we need to do.” He pulled her away and they went out. The door clicked shut.
    Slowly, as if in a dream, Raphael opened the carpet-sheathed cabinet. A stack of carpeted plates looked back at him. I didn’t have the time to do absolutely everything, so I had only done the plates. I knew he would open that cabinet. That’s where he usually went first.
    Raphael drew his hand over his face.
    Slowly the shock drained away from