Warping Minds & Other Misdemeanors - Annette Marie Page 0,1

“What kind of support?”

“Emotional.”

The captain raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “Emotional.”

“Well, yeah. Literally.” When she continued to stare expectantly, I added, “Me and another guy handled it. The lawyers would tell us what state of mind they needed their client in, and we’d come up with a way to get them there.”

“So, by support, you mean manipulation.”

I shrugged. “I like to think of it as emotional guidance.”

“And how did you ‘emotionally guide’ clients?”

“I’m not sure how to describe it.”

A phone beeped imperiously, but she ignored it. “Did you use magic?”

“Who said I have magic?”

The phone beeped again. Blythe sighed, reached under the table, and lifted a cell phone into view. The screen lit up as she checked her messages. Her mouth tightened, which I took to mean doom and disaster were impending and we should take shelter immediately.

Standing, she clipped the phone back to her belt and turned to Lienna. “I need to take care of something. Keep him talking.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

With a sharp nod, Blythe strode out of the room and graciously slammed the door behind her.

“A little intense, isn’t she?” I observed.

Lienna took the vacated seat. “She’s a precinct captain in one of the biggest cities in the country.”

Hmm. Despite her neutral tone, her voice had a soft, caressing quality that I found surprisingly pleasant. It was a shame she wasn’t playing good cop.

“Every day,” she continued, “Captain Blythe deals with rampant magic, illicit guilds, arrogant guild masters who think they’re above the law, and violent criminals who use their abilities to hurt, cheat, or kill people.”

She didn’t add, “Violent criminals just like you.” Her restraint impressed me.

“And,” she continued, “all while keeping the existence of magic, guilds, and the MPD hidden from the public. A crucial mandate your guild flouted.” She cleared her throat. “But you were just an intern, weren’t you, Kit? You were doing what you were told. You don’t need to protect them.”

I grinned. “That works better without the throat-clear first. Really obvious tell that you’re about to bullshit me, I’ve gotta say.”

She stiffened in her seat.

“Oh, and try to relax more. The fake sympathy will be more convincing.”

Her glower returned full force, obliterating the remnants of her kind expression. It’d been a decent attempt at building a rapport with me. She wasn’t experienced at the technique, which seemed like an oversight in her training, but I suspected Lienna’s real role in the agency involved far more skill than mere interrogation.

According to the rumors floating through the holding cells—of which I believed maybe five percent—Agent Lienna Shen was an abjuration sorcerer, and abjuration was … anti-magic sorcery?

That concluded my knowledge on the topic. But I did know the handcuffs around my wrists were an artifact created by a sorcerer for a specific magical purpose: in this case, nullifying the magic of whoever had the unfortunate pleasure of wearing them.

When she didn’t respond to my helpful critique, I attempted a charming smile. “You’re pretty young for an agent.”

Lienna’s scowl deepened, even though it was a reasonable observation; she looked my age, which seemed like a stretch for full agenthood.

“Do you know why you’re here?” she asked coldly. “In this room?”

“Because Blythe has a thing for younger guys who can quote the entire courtroom speech from A Few Good Men?”

“Because,” she said in that clipped tone people use when they’re silently praying for patience—or imagining what it’d feel like to strangle me, “we’re currently investigating three cases of extortion totaling two million dollars, five cases of embezzlement over five hundred thousand dollars each, and eight reports of blackmail. Your guild was behind them all, and unless you want those charges added to your already extensive list of crimes, you should strongly consider shedding some light on the inner workings of KCQ.”

Despite myself, my mood sobered. This wasn’t my first interrogation, but it was my first time in the custody of the international organization responsible for dispatching magic-wielding criminals. I had no idea what to expect as far as charges and sentencing.

“Let’s go back to the beginning,” she suggested. “Your name.”

“Kit Morris.”

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-two.”

“What’s your magic class?”

“Psychica.” Which she already knew. KCQ had been a guild populated entirely by voodoo-brain psychics with wildly varying abilities—all the wilder once I’d joined the team.

She checked the notes in the folder. “Why aren’t you registered?”

“Should I be?” I asked innocently.

“Every mythic is legally required to be registered, but we have no record of you. We didn’t know you existed until we took your friend, Quentin, into custody.”

I feigned dismay. “He gave