Lupi 08 - Death Magic

illusion go together, right?”
    But Cullen was shaking his head. “I can’t rule that out a hundred percent, but I really doubt Rethna was good enough at illusion to transfer a solid one to a charm.”
    “Why not?” she demanded.
    “Partly because of how his magic looked—which is a damned unsatisfactory answer, I know.” He looked frustrated, as if he didn’t like it much, either. “But in addition to that, Rethna’s specialty was body magic. Ah . . . something you need to know about elves. The nobility, anyway. They all have a bit of glamour, which is a type of illusion magic. Some of them go on to develop that enough to cast full illusions. And they’ve all got a bit of body magic, enough to heal themselves and change their own bodies to some extent. All those pretty hair colors? They aren’t born with baby blue hair.”
    “Like that spell that elf lady gave Cynna to turn her permanently blond. That’s body magic?”
    “That’s right. Some elves go on to develop their body magic enough to affect the bodies of others. But body magic and illusion are two very different types of magic. The more you develop one, the harder it is to work the other. It may be different with the High Sidhe,” Cullen admitted. “Probably is, but we aren’t talking about High Sidhe. We’re talking about Rethna. He was aces at body magic, so it’s unlikely he could do much with illusion. It would be like a Water Gifted trying to work Fire spells. With a lot of work he might learn a few of the simple ones, but he’d never be that good at them. He’d sure as hell never call Fire.” Cullen waved his hand. For a few seconds tiny flames danced there, then puffed out.
    Lily nodded. “Then if Rethna was really good at body magic, could he have changed someone to look like Ruben?”
    “Probably. I very much doubt he could’ve made someone smell like Ruben, though.”
    “The maid didn’t say anything about Bixton’s visitor smelling like Ruben,” she said dryly.
    Rule answered instead of Cullen. “Matt did.”
    She swung to face him, frowning. “I don’t know Matt. Who—no, wait, I remember. You were going to send someone to check out the trail I followed into that park across from Bixton’s house. That was Matt?”
    “He’s Cynyr, one of those who’ve been guarding Ruben. He knows Ruben’s scent and he has an unusually good nose, even when two-footed. I heard from him this morning. He found Ruben’s scent on that bench in the park.”
    “But that’s crazy.”
    “Actually,” Cullen said, “it’s not. Though I just finished putting together ... can’t call it proof, but supportive evidence for my theory. Which I’m warning you is pretty wild, but the trigger on that dagger wasn’t just meant to be used by a null. It was made to be used by a magical construct.”
    She blinked. “And that helps you how?”
    “I think Friar used a doppelgänger of Ruben.”
    A dopplegänger? “Uh . . . isn’t that some kind of ghostly double, a harbinger of death? You see your doppelgänger and you die. Something like that.”
    Cullen rolled his eyes. “I’m talking about real doppelgängers, not fairy tales. Not that real ones are supposed to be real.”
    “Is there a point you can back up to where you start making sense?”
    “Son of a bitch,” Karonski breathed. “Son of a bitch. You’re talking about a double? An actual, physical double?”
    Cullen’s eyebrows lifted. “Basically, yes.”
    Karonski leaned forward. “I need to tell you about one of my open investigations. The one into the attack on Ruben.” He patted a closed folder. “It’s all in here, but I can sum it up. We know how the potion was administered. According to what Sherry’s group found, it was added to a pot of coffee. The problem is, Ruben says Ida brewed that pot. Ida says she didn’t. She washed out the pot like usual, then went back to her desk and didn’t go back in Ruben’s office until he had the heart attack. Whoever made the pot, it was brewed between five and five fifteen. Ruben had the heart attack at five forty. Three people had access to the pot between five and five forty—Ruben, Ida, and the director.”
    Lily jerked back. “Ida? No. That’s not . . .” Ida Rheinhart had been Ruben’s secretary forever. Sure, she was kind of scary, but scary like Lily’s third-grade teacher. Lily, like the rest of her class, had been convinced Mrs. Brown was an alien. She had to be, since she was either telepathic or really