Brook paused. “No.”
“She wasn’t worried about her parents?” When I got a bad grade in my old boarding school, Kate would make a trip to the school to chew me out. When I got homesick, I’d flunk a grade on purpose. Sometimes she came by herself. Sometimes with other people. Boy kind of people. Of whom I promised myself I wouldn’t be thinking about, because they were idiots.
“I met her parents on family day. I was in charge of Hospitality Committee. They are really into nurture and all that,” Brook said. “They wouldn’t be upset with her. Fourth floor: science and technology—”
“Do you have lockers?”
“No. We have storage in our desks in the homerooms.”
“Can we go to see Ashlyn’s homeroom?”
Brook stared at me. “Look you, I’m assigned to do this stupid tour with you. I can’t do the tour if you keep interrupting.”
“How many tours have you done so far?”
Brook peered at me. “Eleven.”
“Aren’t you tired of doing them?”
“That’s irrelevant. It’s good for my record.”
Right. “If you don’t do the tour this time, I won’t tell anyone.”
Brook frowned. That line of thought obviously stumped her. I worked my iron while it was hot. “I’m here undercover investigating Ashlyn’s disappearance. If you help me, I’ll mention it to Gendun.”
Brook puzzled it over.
“Fine,” she said. “But you’ll tell Master Gendun that I helped.”
“Invaluable assistance,” I said.
Brook nodded. “Come on. Ashlyn’s homeroom is on the second floor.”
Ashlyn’s homeroom was in the geography class. Maps hung on the walls: world, Americas, U.S., and the biggest map of all, the new magic-screwed-up map of Atlanta, complete with all the new additions and warped, dangerous neighborhoods.
A few people occupied the classroom, milling in little clumps. I took a second to look around and closed my eyes. Nine people in all, two girls to my right, three boys farther on, a girl sitting by herself by the window, two guys discussing something, and a blond kid sitting by himself at the back of the class. I opened my eyes. Missed the dark-haired boy in the corner. Oh well, at least I was getting better at it.
Brook stopped by a wooden desk. It was nice, large and polished, the sealed wood stained the color of amber. Pretty. None of the places I ever studied at were this nice.
“This is her desk,” Brook said.
I sat down into Ashlyn’s chair. The desk had one wide drawer running the entire length of it. I tried it gently. Locked. No big. I pulled a lockpick out of the leather bracelet on my left wrist and slid it into the lock.
The blond kid from the back sauntered over and leaned on the desk. His magic was dark, intense indigo. Probably an elemental mage. He had sharp features and blue eyes that said he was up to no good. My kind of people.
“Hi. What are you doing?”
“Go away, Barka,” Brook said.
“I wasn’t talking to you.” The kid looked at me. “Whatcha doing?”
“I’m dancing.” I told him. Ask a dumb question . . .
“You’re breaking into Ashlyn’s desk.”
“See, I knew you were smart and you’d figure it out.” I winked at him.
Barka made big eyes at Brook. “And what if I tell Walton you’re doing that? That would be a spot on your perfect record.”
“Mind your own business,” Brook snapped.
“He won’t,” I told her. “He wants to see what’s inside the desk.”
Barka grinned.
The lock clicked and the drawer slid open. Rows of apples filled it. Large Red Delicious, Golden Delicious, green Granny Smith and every color and shape in between, each with a tiny sticker announcing its name. Even a handful of red crab apples the size of large cherries, stuck between Cortland and Crimson Gold. I had no idea so many varieties of apple even existed. None of them showed any signs of rotting either. They looked crisp and fresh.
I concentrated. My sensate vision kicked in. The apples glowed with bright green. Now that was a first. A healthy hunter green usually meant a shapeshifter. Human magic came in various shades of blue. Animal magic was typically too weak to be picked up by any of the machines, but I saw it just fine—it was yellow. Together blue and yellow made green. This particular green had too much yellow to belong to a regular shapeshifter.
Most shapeshifters were infected with Lyc-V virus, which let them turn into animals. Sometimes it happened the other way and animals turned into humans. The human-weres were really rare, but I’ve met one, and the color wasn’t right for them either. Human-weres were a drab olive, but this, this was a vivid spring green.
“What kind of magic did Ashlyn have?”
Brook and Barka looked at each other. “I don’t know,” Barka said. “I never asked.”
Whatever she was, she didn’t advertise it. Totally understandable. Seeing the color of magic was an invaluable tool for law enforcement, for mages, basically for anyone who dealt with it, so much so that people actually made a magic machine, called an m-scanner, to imitate it. My magic wasn’t just rare, it was exceptional. I was a hundred times more precise than any existing m-scanner. But in a fight, being a sensate didn’t do me any good at all. If I walked around telling everyone about it, sooner or later someone would try to use me and I had to use other means than my sensate ability to protect myself. It was easier to just keep my mouth shut.
Ashlyn could be that kind of magic user, something rare but not useful in combat.
Still didn’t explain her obsession with apples, though. Maybe she was using them to bribe her teachers. But then her grades would be better.
The shorter of the three girls to our left glared at me. Her magic, a solid indigo when I came in, now developed streaks of pale celery green. Normally the magic signature didn’t change. Ever. Except for Kate.
Hello, clue.
I pretended to look at the apples. “Did Ashlyn have any enemies?”
Barka picked up a pen and rolled it between his fingers. “Not that I noticed. She was quiet. A looker, but no personality.”
Brook pushed her glasses up at him. “Pervert.”
The girl took a step toward us. “What are you doing?”
“Dancing!” Barka said.
Brook didn’t even look in her direction. “Mind your own business, Lisa.”
Lisa skewed her mouth into a disapproving thin line, which was quite a fit because she had one of those pouty-lip mouths. Eyebrows plucked into two narrow lines, unnaturally straight hair, carefully parted, pink shiny on those big lips . . . Lisa was clearly the Take-Care-of-Myself type. Good clothes, too. Girls like that made my life miserable at the old school. I was never put together enough, my clothes were never expensive enough, and I didn’t stroll the halls broadcasting to everyone who cared that I was much better than they were.
But we weren’t at my old school, and a lot has changed since. Besides, she could be a perfectly nice person. Although somehow I doubted it.
“You shouldn’t be doing that,” Lisa said, entirely too loudly.
If I poked her, would her magic get even veinier? Was
“She’s dead,” Lisa announced and checked the room out of the corner of her eye.
“Here we go,” Brook muttered.
“How do you know that? Did you kill her?” Poke-poke-poke.
Lisa raised her chin. “I know because I spoke to her spirit.”
