Lupi 08 - Death Magic

rare. As in, there aren’t any.”
    “You’re confusing sorcerers with adepts. Sorcery is a Gift, not a level of ability. We have no adepts in our realm anymore. Sorcerers are extremely rare, but that Gift does still appear from time to time. Also, we know very little about the nonhuman traditions, such as gnomish or elven magic, so I have to consider them possible exceptions.”
    Sjorensen spoke up gravely. “You said something about adjusting spells. What does that mean?”
    Sherry blessed her with a smile. “Advanced practitioners can often adapt a spell from a foreign tradition to their needs. But that would be information, too. If this spell shows signs of drawing on multiple traditions, you’ll know you are looking for an advanced practitioner.”
    The woman directly across from Lily frowned. “Don’t we already know that? They harvested death magic and used it to kill Bixton. That sounds pretty advanced.”
    Sherry shook her head. “Unfortunately, death magic can be harvested by someone with only a moderate understanding of magic if they get hold of an accurate rite. Your suspect may be quite advanced, or only the equivalent of a bright middle-schooler willing to put out a lot of effort.”
    “Which is why,” Lily added, “once someone starts down that path, they usually practice with animals at first. That’s a possible way to track our perps, or to provide corroboratory evidence. And only one guy has to be skilled. The others involved in the rite may be completely ignorant. There’s some disagreement,” she added with a glance at Sherry, “about whether they even have to be Gifted.” The disagreement she knew about was between Sherry and Cullen.
    Sherry’s eyes twinkled. “True. I personally believe all the participants must possess some trace of magic, but that’s a theoretical preference on my part. Obviously I can’t test it.”
    Erin Hoffsteader said, “What about the spell on the knife? That has to be pretty advanced.”
    “We don’t know that,” Sherry said calmly. “Not yet.”
    “In fact,” Lily put in, paraphrasing Cullen again, “for all we know, our perps didn’t enspell the knife themselves. They could have found it or bought it. It’s even possible—not likely, but possible—they got hold of a pre-Purge artifact with an intact spell.” She looked at Sherry. “If the knife’s old enough, that is.”
    “I don’t know. The most accurate spell to determine age must be performed in two parts—at new moon, then at full moon.”
    “Pre-Purge?” Drummond was skeptical. “That would make it over three hundred years old. Is it possible for a spell to survive that long?”
    “Oh, yes,” Sherry said, “if it was cast by an adept. I know of three such artifacts with intact spells. Two of them are in museums.”
    Now that was interesting. Lily didn’t want to get sidetracked, though. “All of which explains why I want my expert to have a look at that dagger. We need information, even if it isn’t admissible.”
    Sherry smiled. “There’s a good chance my coven can corroborate anything Cullen learns, and our results would be admissible.”
    Drummond looked like he’d bitten into the proverbial lemon, but he agreed, with the provision that Sherry be present when Cullen examined the dagger. Drummond then thanked Sherry brusquely for her time and dismissed her. The he told them sourly to “get some coffee if you want, but make it quick.”
    Lily didn’t hesitate. She had her foam cup in hand and was sipping when he began the briefing. “You’ve all heard shit about this one already. Most of it’s wrong. Listen up to what we actually know.” He went on to hit all the basic points concisely without leaving anything important out, covering when, where, and what they knew of how the senator had been killed. Then he called on Hannah to describe what CSI had found.
    That turned out to be not much, except for an oddly damp spot on the carpet near the body. They were running tests on fibers from that spot. Results not in yet.
    Drummond told Hannah she could go if she wanted. She did. He looked around the table. “This next part is going to stay in this room. Anyone leaks it, I’ll find out, and I’ll bury you. We’ve got a wit—the maid—who places someone on the scene with the senator at the right time. Someone who identified himself to her as Ruben Brooks.”
    A chorus of exclamations was summed up by Brassard from MCD: “What the hell?”
    Drummond spoke