Page 89 of Wraith's Revenge

“Good.” He returned his gaze to my captive. “What happened?”

“He attacked. I responded.”

“Obviously.” Samuel’s voice was dry. “But why did he attack?”

I shrugged. “I’m presuming he was primed to do so, though I’m not sensing any sort of spell on him.”

“No.” Samuel studied the still struggling older man for a second. “His pupils look normal, but that doesn’t rule out drugs.”

“Or some other means of control. He only attacked when we were going to read him.”

“Telepathically via your connection with Belle, I’m gathering?”

I nodded. “I can still do that, unless you want to question him the old-fashioned way.”

“Your way will be faster. Besides, witches who walk the gray line are rarely bosom buddies with the truth. Just let me secure him properly.”

I thought he meant physically but instead he overlaid my cage spell with a more intricate one of his own, wrapping it around the old man’s body so tightly he resembled an Egyptian mummy. What was more interesting though was the fact that it not only restricted movement, but also prevented the formation of magic. A very handy spell indeed, I thought, taking mental notes for future use.

He then produced his ID, read Martin his rights, and told him what was about to happen. The old man’s only response was furious blinking and a rumbly growl that found no real release. Samuel’s spell had apparently locked his ability to speak as well, and that was probably a good thing, given we’d probably be getting nothing more than obscenities from him right now.

I released my containment spell, then stepped forward and pressed my fingers either side of the old man’s temples. Samuel’s containment magic buzzed around my fingertips but otherwise didn’t restrict my touch.

Go, Belle, I said.

She immediately deepened our connection, the force of her thoughts seeming to flow from my mind to my fingers and then into his mind. It was a weird sensation.

His surface memories are as messy as Hazel’s, but the deeper ones remain intact. She paused. And it’s the same telepath responsible.

Out of habit more than necessity, I repeated everything she was saying to keep Samuel in the loop. How can you tell?

Every telepath leaves some trace of themselves behind—a tell, if you like—especially if they haven’t been trained.

You don’t... do you?

I daresay I do, but it’d take a stronger telepath than me to detect them.

And there weren’t all that many around. Or at least there hadn’t been when we’d left Canberra all those years ago now. Does that mean you’ll be able to recognize this telepath from the feel of his thoughts?

Yes, because his tell has a rather weird vibe.

Weird in what way?

Hard to explain, but it’s making my skin crawl. It’s almost otherworldly.

Could that be a result of him dealing with the wraith?

Maybe.

Maybe not, her reply seemed to imply. Was the old man primed to attack me?

She hesitated. Nope. That was all him. We’re not exactly dealing with a stable mind here, and you frightened the hell out of him.

An experience that was mutual. Why is he still raging, then?

He knows he’s in deep trouble. He just doesn’t understand why, because his memories are a stew.

Meaning there’s no hope of pulling anything useful?

---