He cleared his throat and, as nonchalantly as he could, checked the promenade in each direction to see if anyone was paying more attention to them than they should. “Mortal words,” he explained, “they dinna raise the attention of the Witches’ Constabulary. You can use them to disguise the source of your magic. For when you’re left with nae other choice but don’t want to be found out. You simply hide your intention behind a veil of plain but relevant words rather than use an incantation. The magic will adhere if they’re crafty enough.” He gestured to the fog as proof. “I was fair convinced all the city witches used that spell, living so close together as they do.”
“Like a wolf in sheep’s clothing,” she said, as if storing the lesson for later.
“For when mortals push things too far.”
“You attack the poor sods often, do you?”
“Aye, in my line of work, it’s sometimes required.” He knew it made him sound more hostile than he was, but he decided to leave it hanging between them as he pressed her again. “Haven’t you ever used that unique voice of yours to influence a mortal? I was surprised when you didn’t run those lads off with one of your songs.”
“The voice doesn’t work like that for me. I can’t affect a group, only an individual. I think the spell gets diluted by trying to spread it too far otherwise.”
“So you’ve tried before?”
She kept her shawl drawn over her head, even pulling it a wee bit tighter, refusing to incriminate herself with anything more than a shrug. By necessity, he’d had to become a keen observer of human nature, of behaviors and tics that gave away emotions, even when the person’s words clearly indicated otherwise. Edwina, he noted, had tensed when he referred to using spells on the lads again. It could be fear or even embarrassment at having used her magic in the open, but he suspected there was more to her reaction. Her reluctance wasn’t about the ethics of using magic against mortals. He rather thought it had more to do with wanting to avoid any attention on herself. Fair enough, he thought.
“What will you do now?” she asked. “With your investigation, I mean.”
Deflection or genuine interest?
“Start over again,” Ian said. “Begin where I would have on day one, when I arrived in the city. Though, actually, I’m in a bit of a spot, thanks to you and your sister.” She looked him full in the face then, her hazel eyes blinking with worry. He pointed to his temple. “I canna seem to remember which hotel I was staying at. Which means I dinna have my case file, a change of clothes”—he drew a hand over his noticeably stubbled cheeks—“or even a razor.”
She started to speak, but he held his hand up to stop her from apologizing. “It’s all right. I’ll find new lodging. I have a little coin left. Enough to rent a cot for a few nights, anyway.”
“But you’re quite recovered now?” she asked.
He’d lost four days, and probably more. Hob couldn’t have restored everything. The old fellow had done his best, of course, but there were things he simply couldn’t know. Hob seemed to think the body held on to memories as much as the mind, but that hadn’t borne out by Ian’s experience. He’d tried from every angle while on the foreshore to remember what had happened, how he’d come to be there and get hit over the head, but the only thing that felt vaguely familiar was the stench of the mud and fish and brine, as if the scent had gotten in his nostrils and wouldn’t leave. That and the sensation that he’d also choked on his own blood after his throat had been slit, though he clearly hadn’t been murdered. Which meant whoever’s memory she’d mistakenly given him had. Which left an altogether different taste in his mouth.
“Yes, for the most part,” he answered.
“So all you need is to start at the beginning.” Edwina stood and shook out the hem of her skirt, which had finally stopped dripping with river water. “We should get going, then.”
“We?”
“Yes. We need to find your hotel and reunite you with your belongings.”
“Miss Blackwood, that’s hardly something for you to concern yourself with,” he said, standing to meet her.
“Oh, but it is. If not for my sister’s interference, you wouldn’t currently be without your possessions. Luckily that’s something I believe I can help you with.”
“And how exactly do you propose to do that?”
“Where would your investigation begin, Mr. Cameron?” She straightened her back and clasped her hands together in front of her, all business. “Assuming you just arrived in the city?”