Page 92 of Magic Forsaken

She didn’t have to make it soundquiteso suspicious.

“I came up here because Heather said you wanted to meet with me about tomorrow.”

Her eyes bored into me. “That’s patently absurd. Heather has been with me all evening in the first floor conference room, and she knows I had no need to meet with you. I only sent her out a few minutes ago to get me something for my headache.”

Oh crap.

“Then you may have a rogue fae glamoured as Heather running around the reception downstairs.” Probably counting on the mixed crowd to cover a scent that didn’t match external appearance.

Her eyes sharpened and took on a predatory gleam. “The saboteur.”

I wasn’t ready to tell her about my recent conversation just yet. “Seems likely.” At the very least, whoever was glamoured as Heather was probably working for the man I’d just spoken with. “We need to find her. It. Whatever. And we need to find the real Heather.”

For once, the two of us seemed to be on exactly the same page. We flew down the stairs, but just before we entered, Angelica grabbed my arm.

“Donotwalk into that room until you fix your face. We don’t need the delegates realizing something is wrong until we know more.”

Right. Calm and in control. Take all that murderous rage and use it for good.

I wrapped up every bit of my churning emotions, pasted on what I hoped was a bland expression, and followed Angelica into the reception, every sense on alert. Looking for Heather. I was too short to see very far in the crowd, but Angelica’s heels gave her an advantage.

“I don’t see her here,” she muttered. “But whoever it was might have already escaped. We need to inform Callum.”

“On it.”

I could have found him with my eyes closed. Not because of my heightened shapeshifter senses, but because something in me simply knew where he was. Some part of me that was aware of the sound of his voice and the exact shape and tenor of his presence. When we first met, it would have been the sense of fear that alerted me—the sensation of being in the presence of a superior predator.

Now? I was almost afraid to analyze this feeling.

I found him deep in discussion with the wildkin delegation, and while his tone and expression did not change, I could tell he went on alert the moment I appeared at his elbow.

After a few more brief pleasantries, he excused himself from the conversation, turned to me, and motioned to the side of the room with a jerk of his head.

“What is it?”

For a moment, I couldn’t even answer. I was caught up in memories of the mysterious saboteur’s questions andaccusations. What was Callum hiding? Did I dare ask? And what would I do if he refused to tell me?

“There may be a rogue fae,” I managed finally. “We’re pretty sure he or she glamoured themselves as Heather.”

Sparks flared in his amber eyes. “Damn. In a room this crowded, that might even work. Heather doesn’t really smell like a shifter, and there’s enough others with glamour to muddy the waters.”

Wait… “Why doesn’t Heather smell like a shifter?”

“Because she’s only half,” Callum explained patiently. “And she’s never manifested the ability to shift, so her scent is very weak. Similar to that of a human.”

My brain spun, considering the implications of that. “Does that mean… a shifter's sense of smell is actually detecting magic?”

“We aren’t totally sure of the mechanics,” Callum admitted. “But when we aren’t in our shifted form, it’s also harder to detect the differences between individuals. I can tell you when I smell fae, but not which one unless I know them well.”

Then… what did I smell like to him? He’d said at the beginning that he couldn’t identify it. Because it was a mix of all my magics, or because it was too close to being human? And did this mean the kids had no need to hide?

That was a question for later. I had to find Angelica.

“Raine, what is it?” Callum was looking positively thunderous.

“I might be wrong, but…”

I didn’t wait, just took off into the crowd. When I spotted Angelica in a corner, talking on the phone, I reached out, grabbed her arm and spun her around, a little more fiercely than necessary.

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