The Isis Collar

look at to see who’s come and gone in the building?”

Yes, there was, and I remembered her telling us. “Call her. Ask her how to find it. Once you have it, print me out a copy. I’m going to go to the college and ask around about witches who can disable magical shields without anyone noticing. Because I would swear our shield was in place and no way should a person with evil intent have been able to get through.”

She nodded and reached for the phone. I paid special attention to the shield around the office when I left. It felt absolutely normal, but unless the witch flew out a window either she slipped out past us during the screaming match or … she was still there. I began to make a careful check of the possible entrances, including the back door, off the kitchen. It was locked and can only be locked from the inside. Then I went around to the front, looking for any footprints in the soft dirt underneath the windows. We keep the dirt loose just for that reason. With attorneys, bail bondsmen, and bodyguards in the building, we nearly always have enemies.

Then I remembered something that might explain the mystery. Bruno had once cast an illusion spell on himself so strong that six people in a room had believed him to be a potted rubber tree. Another powerful mage in the room had ratted him out.

I’m not a witch and I knew I was dealing with a powerful one. So I wanted to be very certain of my facts before I simply left my friend … and Ron … to the witch. Even he deserved better than that. I hurried back inside.

“Dottie’s line was busy. What are you—” Dawna stopped speaking when I put a finger to my lips. I made motions for a pen and paper. Dawna understands about being bugged, so she just nodded and handed me a yellow legal pad and pen.

Turn on the perimeter, I wrote, and held the pad so she could see. She raised her brows and leaned back in her chair, obviously worried. The perimeter was added to our security system after a mage hacked past our prior system to plant listening devices. The perimeter locks down the building and sends a signal to the police. A fine powder is then released through the venting system. Invisible to the eye and completely odorless and tasteless, it luminesces under black light so that anything in the building when the button is pushed gets marked. It will wash off eventually, but not before the cops arrive. Anyone who tries to leave without permission catches the second marker, which is magical. I don’t really understand the metaphysics of it, but in addition to itching like poison ivy, I guess it “flavors” your next few spells, and it flashes like a neon sign to other mages.

You sure? Dawna wrote back, and I nodded. She pressed the button on the floor near her foot—each of the leaseholders has one in their office in case nobody’s at the front desk. There was no outward indication that anything happened, and even though I was expecting it I couldn’t feel or sense the dust or any sort of magic.

But we have a special black light we use on driver’s licenses to be sure they’re not fake and Dawna turned it on. Sure enough, the tops of her fingers had a pale orange tinge that couldn’t be from anything else.

I was looking around the room to see if anything of sufficient mass to be a person was out of place or new. It was like looking at one of those “hidden object” computer games.

My cell phone rang, and when I picked it up to look at the screen, it was Rizzoli. Crap. I wanted to take the call, but I didn’t want any unintended listeners eavesdropping on us. I ignored the ringing. I could call back once I had verified nobody was in the building and had gotten everyone out. After four rings, it went to voice mail.

Then it rang again. Rizzoli, a second time. That wasn’t like him. I’d have to take it. “Hello?” I spoke low and fast, hoping he’d get the hint I couldn’t talk.

“What’s happening, Graves? Do you need backup?”

That made me frown because how would he know? “Why do you ask?”

“The request got moved up the chain, owing to the new necklace I gave you. What do you need?”

Whoa. The FBI consultant badge Rizzoli gave me meant it wasn’t the police who would respond to a perimeter alert anymore? It would be the FBI? I was pretty sure my jaw dropped, because Dawna looked at me oddly. But how could I tell him what the problem was without saying it out loud? “I’ll text you.”

“We … um, prefer voice for situations like this. Too easy for fakes.”

Well, wasn’t that a bitch? I let out a deep sigh and tried to figure out what to do.

Dawna wrote on the pad: What’s up?

That’s when it occurred to me. “I’ll send you a JPEG. Stay tuned.” I hung up on Rizzoli and started to write on the pad with my head down and my hand shielding the paper like a fifth grader trying to hide a note from the teacher.

Security breach at my office. Believed to be the witch who set off the bomb. Bring illusion specialists. I think she’s still here. I’ll do my best to keep her inside.

I took a flash photo of the page with my phone while it was still shielded, made sure it was legible, and sent it to Rizzoli with a few quick clicks. Then I folded the paper before even Dawna could see it. I mouthed the word Rizzoli, and her eyes widened. Then she nodded.

Then I said out loud, as casual as I could, “Pull up those decorator photos, will you? I’m thinking the stripes in the reception area are starting to fade where the sun hits. Maybe we need to try a different pattern.”

By her expression, I’d asked for pictures of Bigfoot. But she did it. One of the reasons she’s my best friend. We’d taken photos for the decorator so she could figure out, from miles away, what sort of wallpaper would work in the building and keep within the historical landmark guidelines that went with the plaque near the entrance. The other reason we took the photos was so that everything we took out of the building during the renovation could go back into the right rooms and their usual places.

A question was poised on Dawna’s lips, but she didn’t know whether to ask. I finally handed her the message I’d sent to Rizzoli. She put it on her lap, likewise hiding it from the room. After reading it her eyes went wide and she started looking around.

My cell phone binged to tell me I had a text message. I glanced at the screen. Done. I showed the screen to Dawna and she breathed a sigh of relief.

The voices in the conference room were getting louder and Ron was having to raise his voice to be heard over the din.

I wanted to start the search of the building while they were still busy. I still had two of the total body-binding charms Cree … John had given me, along with a couple of confusion charms in case I had to fight. But with a witch powerful enough to duplicate Bruno’s stunt, my only real hope was the ones John had done. Even Bruno had been impressed by them because he’d never been able to get one to work right.

I picked up my cell phone and texted a quick message. But I didn’t send it. Instead, I turned it so Dawna could read it.

If something’s different from pic, I’ll point @ pic and u thumb up or down if OK. K?

She closed her fist with her thumb up in the air and smiled. Good enough. She wasn’t leaping up to join me in walking around, which didn’t bode well for vampire fighting. Still, this was a witch and a powerful one. Frankly, I didn’t want to search, either.

I limped into the reception area, my right shoe making a heavier click on the hardwood floor that was barely audible over the shouting match in the next room.

The first thing I spotted different from the picture was a Ficus tree. Visions of the rubber plant came back to my mind and I kicked all my senses into high gear. Sometimes the nose or ears will take over when the eyes are being deceived. I stared hard at anything but the tree, sensing the feel of the room. I inhaled deep and slow and for the first time caught the barest whiff of women’s perfume—a delicate floral that was meant to be remembered only after close contact.

After a moment, I caught Dawna’s intensely wide pupils and motioned toward it with my eyes alone. She gave a thumbs-up. Hmm. I guess I’d just never noticed it before.

That’s when fate intervened. After a cop I knew died, I’d been given a cat named Minnie the Mouser. Since I’m seldom home and the office is open most of the day and night, it made sense for her to live here. Even Ron has gotten attached to the little orange and white ball of fluff with the big attitude and tiny voice. He keeps a host of toys in the corner of his office, along with a padded bed for Her Majesty’s comfort. We all do.

Entering the room, Minnie sniffed the air before focusing her stare on the chairs. There were only two in the photo, opposite the couch, but there were more scattered all over the building. While they’re bulky to move around, we had done so more than once before when extra clients came in who would be waiting awhile. The chairs were