had. “He has not met everyone who lives in the home.”
I nod. “True, but he says that it wasn’t Angel, so that leaves out Adriel and Raziel. I’m pretty sure Mom and Dad don’t have a scent.”
“Oh please, there is ectoplasm clinging to every wall they have traversed,” Taz says, wrinkling his nose.
“Okay, I guess ghosts do have a smell,” I say. “But it wasn’t their scent either.”
“Ask him if he knows what magical race the scent belongs to,” Dagda says loudly as if Taz is deaf.
“Good lord, does the Fairy have to shout? He has just been added to the whacka column in my book. Please tell him I am more than capable of hearing not only him but everything that is happening within a quarter mile of the house.”
Ignoring his rambling, I ask, “Do you know what magical race it is?”
Puffing up his chest, he says, “No.” His chest deflates again.
“Then why are you acting cocky. You don’t know anything more than we do.”
Indignant air fills his black, furry chest again. “I know that the reason I cannot ascertain the background of the one who left the scent is because it has been magically camouflaged, making it impossible for anyone to discover its source. Did you know that?”
No, I didn’t. Turning to Dagda and Kallen, I say, “Taz says that the scent has been magically camouflaged. Can Fairies do that?”
Dagda is running his finger around the lip of his glass and a soft ringing sound is coming from it. “It can be done.”
I don’t think I want to know the answer to my next question. “How?”
“Dark magic,” Kallen says. His eyes have become cold, disliking the answer as much as I do.
“Can the camouflage be lifted?” I ask.
“No,” Dagda says even though he looks lost in thought. “It cannot.”
Makes sense. It wouldn’t be a very good spell if it could be. “So, this doesn’t do us any good. We still have no clue as to who did this.”
“Correct,” Dagda says. He lifts his glass to his lips and downs the scotch.
A knocking on the door draws all of our eyes. It opens and Isla comes in. She sits down on the blue leather next to me. “I am sure Kallen has told you that nothing seems out of place.” Kallen shifts slightly in his seat not wanting to say that we haven’t given him a chance to talk about it yet. “I did, however, pick up the scent of a camouflaging spell.”
“At least one of you in here has a keen mind. I would gladly share a dead wallaby with this one,” Taz says, licking his lips at the thought.
“I’m sure she’d be thrilled,” I mumble.
“Excuse me?” Isla says, her green eyes icing over.
“Taz wants to share a dead animal carcass with you for being smarter than the rest of us,” I say dryly. “He thinks that’s a compliment.”
“I don’t ‘think that’, I know it is a compliment,” he growls.
Isla lets her eyes linger on him for a moment and then turns away, not feeling the need to acknowledge the compliment of a Tasmanian devil. “I do not believe that the house is safe for habitation currently.”
Dagda nods. “I agree. I will have rooms readied for all of you at the palace.”
I shake my head. “I knew I’d end up there sooner or later,” I grumble, resenting having to leave yet another home because of a death threat.
“I am sure you will find the experience tolerable,” Dagda drawls.
My cheeks flush. “Sorry, that was rude. I’m just upset that we’re all being driven out of our home.” Because of me.
After a heartbeat, Dagda nods. “Understandable, but it is for the best.”
My turn to nod. “I know.”
Turning to Isla, he says, “If you are satisfied your search turned up no clues, I suggest we head out immediately. We are too exposed here.”
“Yes, I agree.”
Dagda taps on the
I nod. “True, but he says that it wasn’t Angel, so that leaves out Adriel and Raziel. I’m pretty sure Mom and Dad don’t have a scent.”
“Oh please, there is ectoplasm clinging to every wall they have traversed,” Taz says, wrinkling his nose.
“Okay, I guess ghosts do have a smell,” I say. “But it wasn’t their scent either.”
“Ask him if he knows what magical race the scent belongs to,” Dagda says loudly as if Taz is deaf.
“Good lord, does the Fairy have to shout? He has just been added to the whacka column in my book. Please tell him I am more than capable of hearing not only him but everything that is happening within a quarter mile of the house.”
Ignoring his rambling, I ask, “Do you know what magical race it is?”
Puffing up his chest, he says, “No.” His chest deflates again.
“Then why are you acting cocky. You don’t know anything more than we do.”
Indignant air fills his black, furry chest again. “I know that the reason I cannot ascertain the background of the one who left the scent is because it has been magically camouflaged, making it impossible for anyone to discover its source. Did you know that?”
No, I didn’t. Turning to Dagda and Kallen, I say, “Taz says that the scent has been magically camouflaged. Can Fairies do that?”
Dagda is running his finger around the lip of his glass and a soft ringing sound is coming from it. “It can be done.”
I don’t think I want to know the answer to my next question. “How?”
“Dark magic,” Kallen says. His eyes have become cold, disliking the answer as much as I do.
“Can the camouflage be lifted?” I ask.
“No,” Dagda says even though he looks lost in thought. “It cannot.”
Makes sense. It wouldn’t be a very good spell if it could be. “So, this doesn’t do us any good. We still have no clue as to who did this.”
“Correct,” Dagda says. He lifts his glass to his lips and downs the scotch.
A knocking on the door draws all of our eyes. It opens and Isla comes in. She sits down on the blue leather next to me. “I am sure Kallen has told you that nothing seems out of place.” Kallen shifts slightly in his seat not wanting to say that we haven’t given him a chance to talk about it yet. “I did, however, pick up the scent of a camouflaging spell.”
“At least one of you in here has a keen mind. I would gladly share a dead wallaby with this one,” Taz says, licking his lips at the thought.
“I’m sure she’d be thrilled,” I mumble.
“Excuse me?” Isla says, her green eyes icing over.
“Taz wants to share a dead animal carcass with you for being smarter than the rest of us,” I say dryly. “He thinks that’s a compliment.”
“I don’t ‘think that’, I know it is a compliment,” he growls.
Isla lets her eyes linger on him for a moment and then turns away, not feeling the need to acknowledge the compliment of a Tasmanian devil. “I do not believe that the house is safe for habitation currently.”
Dagda nods. “I agree. I will have rooms readied for all of you at the palace.”
I shake my head. “I knew I’d end up there sooner or later,” I grumble, resenting having to leave yet another home because of a death threat.
“I am sure you will find the experience tolerable,” Dagda drawls.
My cheeks flush. “Sorry, that was rude. I’m just upset that we’re all being driven out of our home.” Because of me.
After a heartbeat, Dagda nods. “Understandable, but it is for the best.”
My turn to nod. “I know.”
Turning to Isla, he says, “If you are satisfied your search turned up no clues, I suggest we head out immediately. We are too exposed here.”
“Yes, I agree.”
Dagda taps on the
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