Page 109 of Alpha Power

"I'm good," Zamorra swallowed.

"What?" Thaddeus glanced around the room in confusion. "What'd I say?"

She rolled her shoulders back and straightened her spine, plastering a neutral expression on her face. "What's a signature?" She asked again.

Whenever she got hit with painful memories, the best thing to do was to distract herself and let the memories fade back away to where she kept them locked at all times.

"A signature is something specific to a mage," Thaddeus began, flicking his eyes to Luther for confirmation to continue. Luther nodded so he continued. "It helps us figure out who's using magic, kind of like an identifier."

He raised a hand and it became engulfed in red and black fire, so hot she could feel the heat from where she sat a few chairs away. That familiar tingling sensation she got every time she encountered magic trickled down her spine and she cracked her neck, enjoying the way it rolled over her skin.

Thaddeus smiled knowingly, flames dancing in his eyes as he stared at the mage fire in his palm. "You feel that? Thatmia signorais a signature. To you it would just feel like power. Pure power in its rawest form. But, to a mage it's something entirely different. Every mage has one and they're as unique to us as fingerprints or DNA." He thrust his hand and the flames flared to life, like accelerant was just poured all over it. The fire started to slowly slink up his arm, slithering like a snake up higher and higher until his entire arm was almost covered in flames.

Zamorra stared, entranced by the red and black fire dancing before her. She couldn't pull her gaze away.

Her werewolf perked up with interest, watching curiously through Zamorra's eyes.

"Granted, it can’t tell me who specifically is using magic, but it does tell me if one mage is responsible for several different spells." He closed his fist and the flames snuffed away, smoke billowing into the air.

Zamorra was surprised to see that the fire didn't burn through his clothes, like the flames wouldn't dare hurt their master.

"There was only one signature surrounding the camouflage spell and the wards at your little friend’s house-"

She frowned. "Do you mean, Arturo? He wasn't my friend."

Thaddeus waved a hand. "His name is unimportant but yes, him. That same signature is all over every vial of Night Flare Luthy has had me test-"

Luther growled at the nickname but Thaddeus continued talking like he didn't hear it.

"-as well as the volatile spells currently wreaking havoc all over the city."

"So, it's the same mage responsible for all of them?"

"Yes," Thaddeus nodded. "Unfortunately, that's the only information I can gather from his signature. For more, I need to meet the mage in person."

"What're the spells popping up around the city for?"

"Can't say for sure but my best guess is, they're practicing."

"Practicing?" Zamorra repeated with furrowed brows. "Practicing for what?"

Thaddeus kicked his feet up onto the table again, winking. "That's the million dollar question, isn't it?"

A gust of wind blew past Zamorra and then Margaret appeared, red eyed and angry, steam shooting out of her ears. She glared at the mage with his pristine, black Oxfords on the table and growled low in her throat.

Thaddeus paled and lowered his feet back to the ground.

Margaret narrowed her eyes but nodded, satisfied. She vanished a second later.

"Phew," Thaddeus said, wiping sweat from his brow. "Thought I was a goner then."

"If that had of been me, I would have gotten a hiding," Darius grumbled.

Thaddeus smiled, flashing the room those perfect, pearly whites. "I can't help that I'm her favourite."

Maddox scoffed. "You think you’re everyone's favourite."

"Uh, that's because I am."

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