Page 25 of An Amateur Witch's Guide to Murder
Also, blood magic is a weird pairing for someone working in finance. There’s loads of magics out there that focus on spells for wealth and success. Gentler, more precise magics, asking specific entities for assistance with specific goals.
But blood magic isn’t a scalpel, it’s a sledgehammer. You don’t use it to enhance your odds of getting a promotion. You use it to maim the competition.
And, most troubling of all, nothing about Topher’s curse implies it was cast with blood magic … until this moment.
Mateo stands, turning toward the offices beyond. A sea of heads tipped down, staring at monitors. No one’s paying attention to them, even though someone definitely ran in and did this.
Somewhere close by, waiting and watching, is a blood magic witch.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Before they can decide what to do about the unknown yet ominous magic blood circle, Topher’s pasty form appears in the doorway. “I have some bad news, dad wants to resche—” he starts but Mateo has a hand on Topher’s back, herding him out of the conference room and down the hall double time, Ophelia in their wake.
Topher, incapable of stopping anyone from doing anything, allows this, not managing a question until they’re in the elevator and heading down. “Did something happen?”
“Saw the writing on the wall,” Mateo says, hitting the button for the lobby with too much force. He’s sharp-toothed and mighty keen to get Ophelia and Topher out of here. It’s not that he wants to keep Topher in the dark so much as ominously and futilely telling him, “There’s defo a scary witch running around your dad’s office, and we have no idea who it is, but they just tried something” doesn’t feel super helpful at this juncture.
Leaving very quickly feels more prudent.
“I’m sorry,” Topher says in distress, letting Mateo continue to usher him around, out the elevator, through the lobby, andinto the too bright day. “He’s just … he’s having a hard time with things since mom left. But he said he’d come home after work and talk.”
Wants it in the private space of his home. Almost like he doesn’t want to talk to two magical specialists about curses while at work.
Which, honestly, could be a perfectly reasonable stance if you don’t believe in magic and think your son brought two con artists to your place of business.
But also, it looks sus as hell and someone is definitely doing magic in that office.
“It wasn’t a total loss. We got free food,” Mateo assures him as they pile into the waiting car, giving Topher another awkward knee pat once they’re seated. The wide-eyed look shifts from apologetic to normal-near-panic, which must be better. “We wanted to check out your house anyway.”
Mateo uses the ride to puzzle over how and why someone went for them in the scant few minutes they’d left the conference room. Coincidence feels unlikely, but anything but a coincidence also makes no sense because no one knew they were coming. Was the target Topher? He might have been on his dad’s calendar.
This thought keeps his teeth distressingly sharp the whole traffic-laden trip across town.
Eventually, Quincy parks in a cobbled driveway split down the middle by a fountain filled with naked lady statues endlessly pouring water from vases.
It’s Topher’s dad’s mansion. Ophelia’s out of the car first, taking pictures.
Topher’s fuchsia again, looking like he wants to pull Ophelia away but wouldn’t dare touch her. “Sorry about the, uh …” Hecan’t bring himself to say “naked ladies” so trails off, then powers ahead. “They came with the house. Mom hates them. Dad … he likes them, so …” Topher’s taking psychic damage standing near the statues, so he hurries to the front door, punching in a code on a keypad to let them in.
Mateo’s still trying to think through this blood magic complication, but there’s an honest to God foyer on the other side of the door. Marble floors, gaudy frames featuring more unclothed women doing manual labor, and no obvious use for the large space. Until Topher opens an unseeable closet to one side of the door and indicates they should de-shoe.
Ophelia has on those girl shoes that are made of half an inch of fabric and wishes so she kicks them off into the closet like an animal, then walks ahead into the house.
“Holy shit,” Ophelia’s mild voice calls as he follows Topher into the living room.
More pale marble and questionable art abounds. Cutouts in the walls hold things like a single sterile white apple. An L-shaped couch sits in the center of a slate-gray rug, and neither looks like something a human ass is meant to interact with. A low coffee table made of glass threatens in front of an open fireplace that runs the length of one wall.
It’s the most actively hostile room Mateo’s ever been in. A nightmare of a deathtrap, every surface high-gloss or sharp, and they’re standing in it with a cursed guy.
But that’s not what Ophelia was reacting to.
She stands in front of a wall-to-ceiling window and stares into the yard, where a pool dazzles in the dying San Francisco light. “I’m going to investigate the backyard,” she says to no one because she doesn’t wait for a response before wandering deeper into the house.
Topher takes a step as if to follow, but Mateo catches his shoulder. “She’s fine on her own. Looking for auras and trace magics.” Ninety percent chance she goes directly into the pool without doing anything else. “When I got background information from you, you said you didn’t really know any of your dad’s associates, right?” A bobble of agreement. “Have you ever interacted with any of them, though? Not best friend stuff. A handshake. Quick conversation. That kinda thing?” A curse could be cast in a million different ways.
“I only really talk to the receptionist,” Topher says, still looking worriedly after Ophelia. “But just to ask where my father is. And only a few times. I don’t go to his offices often.”
“Any of your dad’s suited peers been around the house?” he tries. Considering the MIA mom and that Topher’s the one cursed, one of Christopher’s rivals might be trying to hurt the man. Get him off his game for business reasons Mateo can’t guess at because he doesn’t know how finance jobs work.
