“Aww, Cass—”
“I need this. All three but especially the second.”
“But he’s all . . . nasty and shit. God knows what’s in there.”
“Billy—”
“Why can’t you need help interrogating a hot chick?” he complained. “But nooooo, I get Mr. Crazy Mage.”
He nonetheless did as I asked, and drifted inside the sweaty head. Billy had the ability to waft through someone’s brain, picking up on whatever they were thinking about at the moment. It wasn’t true mind reading—he couldn’t pick and choose what he saw—but it should be enough.
“How are you using the Pythian power?” I asked again, and Jonathan laughed.
“Mairzy doats and dozy doats and liddle lamzy divey. A kiddley divey too, wouldn't you?”
He had a surprisingly nice tenor. One that cut off when Pritkin nailed him in the mouth again. I put a hand on my partner’s arm, because while I definitely echoed the sentiment, any more damage and the bastard wouldn’t be able to talk.
“If the words sound queer and funny to your ear, a little bit jumbled and jivey, sing mares eat oats and does eat oats and little lambs eat i-i-ivy.”
The voice was a little mushy that time, but nonetheless melodic. And useless. My borrowed suit took that moment to finally fritz out, and I stripped it off while being regaled with another few verses.
Great; so, on top of everything else, I was going to have that damned song stuck in my head all day.
I carefully folded Augustine’s outfit and placed it on a chair—I’d never get another loan if I tore his prototype—and brushed myself down. I was sweaty and rumpled, and the shorts and t-shirt I’d worn under the thing left me chilly. It was cold down here.
Pritkin silently handed me a coat, which I assumed was his. But instead of dragging the ground, it fit me perfectly. I looked up at him in surprise, and he scowled.
“Meant to give it to you under better circumstances.”
“You made me a war mage coat?”
I couldn’t believe it.
“That’s not authorized,” one of the other mages began, when Jonas shot him a look.
“You bring in the most wanted man on our roster, and you may give her instruction,” he said, and the mage shut up.
I stroked the arm of my coat, which was brown leather with a brown lining, and had all kinds of little pockets—for weapons, I assumed. I didn’t have many weapons, but I could think of other things that could go in there. I wouldn’t have to carry a purse!
And then something suddenly made sense. “You had this in your room,” I said, looking up at Pritkin. “That’s why it responded when I came in. You spelled it for me.”
He nodded tersely. “Made a smaller clone of own, but added some additional protection.” The scowl intensified. “I never know what you’re going to be up to.”
I hugged it; it felt warm. It also did look just like his, down to a scuff on one arm. War mage coats were spelled to be self-healing, but I guess that depends on the damage, and Pritkin’s got damaged a lot.
“Thank you,” I said, wanting to spin around and watch it twirl out, I didn’t know why.
I felt like I’d just gotten a ring.
But we had company, so I refrained.
One of the other war mages cleared his throat, and when I looked up, he was smiling. “Made my girl one, too,” he said. “Of course, she’s in the Corps. She works secretarial upstairs, but she wanted one. You know, to look cool.”
“This isn’t about how it looks,” Pritkin told him. “Cassie fights more than you do.”
He didn’t look happy about it.
Of course, neither was I. But if we played our cards right with Jonathan, maybe we wouldn’t have to so much anymore. “Billy?” I said.