Kate Daniels 02 - Magic Burns

never know. Sometimes you can pull some residual magic imprints even during tech.”
    We looked at the cube. We both knew it was futile. You would have to scan something really saturated with magic to get a good m-scan during tech. Like a body part. The m-scanner analyzed the traces of residual magic left on an object by its owner and printed them in a variety of colors: blue for human, green for shapeshifter, purple for vampire. The tone and vividness of the colors denoted the different types of magic, and reading an m-scan correctly was practically an art form. The traces of magic on a bolt, probably held very briefly, were bound to be miniscule. I knew of only one man in the city who had an m-scanner high-speed enough to register such slight residual magic during tech. His name was Saiman. Trouble was, if I went to him, it would cost me an arm and a leg.
    The printer chattered. Andrea pulled the print out and turned to me. Her face had gone a shade whiter. A wide slice of silvery blue cut across the paper. Human divine. That in itself was not remarkable. Anybody who drew their power from deity or religion registered as human divine : the Pope, Shaolin monks, even Greg, a knight-diviner, had registered silver-blue. The problem was, we shouldn’t have been able to get an m-scan at all with the tech up.
    â€œWhat does this mean? Is the residual magic just incredibly strong on this thing?”
    Andrea shook her head. “The magic waves have been really erratic lately.”
    We looked at each other. We both knew what rapid-fire waves meant: a flare. And I needed a flare like I needed a hole in the head.
    â€œYou have a petitioner,” Maxine’s voice said in my head.
    I grabbed my m-scan and went into my office.

CHAPTER 2
    I LANDED AT MY DESK. A FLARE WAS COMING. IF normal shifts were magic waves, a flare was a magic tsunami. It started as a series of shallow magic fluctuations, quickly falling and rising, but never leaving the world. During those short waves, the magic didn’t completely fall, coming back stronger and stronger until it finally drowned us in an enormous surge.
    Theory said that magic and tech used to coexist in a balance. Like the pendulum of a grandfather clock that barely moved, if at all. But then came the Age of Man, and men are made of progress. They overdeveloped magic, pushing the pendulum farther and farther to one side until it came crashing down and started swinging back and forth, bringing with it tech waves. And then in turn, technology oversaturated the world, helped once again by pesky Man, and the pendulum swung again, to the side of magic this time. The previous Shift from magic to tech took place somewhere around the start of the Iron Age. The current Shift officially dawned almost thirty years ago. It began with a flare, and with each subsequent flare, more of our world succumbed to magic.
    Weird shit happened during the flares. The magic surge only lasted two to three days, but those days were killer. For a moment I wished I was still just a merc. I could go home and wait all the craziness out.
    A woman appeared in the doorway—my petitioner. Slender and elegant in that willowy way of tall and naturally slim people, she wasn’t simply attractive, she was gorgeous: beautifully cut Asian eyes, perfect skin, full mouth, and blue-black hair that spilled over her shoulders in a glossy straight wave. Her dress was black and clingy. Her shoes made my calves ache.
    And she looked familiar, but for the life of me I couldn’t recall where I had seen her before.
    â€œKate Daniels?”
    That’s me. “Yes?”
    â€œMy name is Myong Williams.”
    We shook hands awkwardly. “Please, sit down.”
    She sat in the client’s chair and crossed one lean leg over the other in a whisper of fabric.
    â€œTo what do I owe the pleasure?”
    She hesitated, unconsciously repositioning her legs to better show them off. “I’ve come to ask you for a favor.”
    â€œOf what nature?”
    â€œPersonal.”
    She fell silent. We’d reached a standstill.
    Something clicked in my brain. “I remember where I’ve seen you before. You’re Curran’s…”— lover, mistress, honey-bunny —“significant other.” Dear God, what could the Beast Lord’s concubine possibly want from me?
    â€œWe’re no longer together,” Myong said.
    Her problem wasn’t connected to Curran. Good.