The light of the screen illuminated her face as though it were the face of some prophet waiting on a revelation. The page showed the map of the city and she could not help but think about all the things that lay in waiting, in the dark corners of the city, watching as the world around them delivered another prey into their laps.

  A part of her wished that she was never forced to step back into that other world, where things were no longer a matter of logic, but of hunger and power. It lacked order, a simple law of nature that limits one’s ability to do harm. Magic was a key to something unfathomably bigger, full of things that did not have to answer to any law but their own.

  The houses, the streets, the peace that existed for so long was nothing but an illusion. It was so much better for any powerless creature to believe such things were not their business, that they did not belong in their lives, and that there were people who kept the lines from blurring. But the lines have been blurred since the first strand of magic was seen and bound, and such a thing as an incanter was born in the world.

  “Don’t you think it’s time to go home and have some sleep?” said a voice from the desk on the opposite side. The old chair screeched as it swayed under the weight of an old friend.

  Myra rubbed her left eye and cracked her neck to ward off the stiffness. “I will go. You know I always do. Eventually.”

  “Sleep comes to those that want to dream,” returned Wein, in his usual, cheerful tone.

  “You and I both know that makes no sense.”

  “I’m just repeating what I heard. Don’t judge me.” The chair continued to shift until he finally put his feet up on the desk and released a long sigh. “Remember that double homicide in Flagstor?”

  “Urgh. Why did you have to bring that up? I worked so hard to scrape that image from my mind.”

  “I had to stop five times on the way back so you’d vomit in the bushes.” He laughed like it was the fondest memory he had. “Five times. You went through all the colors in a rainbow by the time we got back.”

  “Yes, a fond memory indeed. I couldn't look at food for three days after that.”

  “Either way, it’s one of your proudest moments. You found a connection between the killer’s mother’s bakery and the sauce under the victim’s fingernails. And you did that in a matter of days.”

  “I was young and ambitious. Now I’m… you.”

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  Strong and equally paced footsteps came down the hallway and soon a shadow loomed over the the office like an omen.

  “Who are you talking to?” the shadow said and hit the light switch, almost blinding Myra.

  “What are you still doing here, wizard? Is it the witching hour already?” she said and stretched her arms behind her back before yawning.

  “I need you to see something,” Ori insisted before he turned away and hurried back to where he came from.

  “This is my life now, it seems,” she said shrugging her shoulders at the empty chair on the other side and slowly, almost lifelessly, dragged herself to the morgue.

  “What is it?” she asked once she finally caught up with Ori. She found him standing with his back turned, in between the tables where the bodies ley covered up with cloth. “Aren’t you supposed to be gone by now? I thought we had a deal.”

  “You need to know this. Something isn’t entirely right here,” he said, unavailing one of the bodies. There was no need to keep them in a freezer for they did not rot, but merely dissolved into a featureless inorganic shape. The process was yet incomplete, and they lingered somewhere between a person and a poor imitation of life. “Remember what happened last time I tried to read the magic off of them?”

  “Come on. This is about the accomplice, isn’t it? I’m sorry but I don’t see that as our problem anymore. And by ours, I mean the people in this building.”

  “Listen. There are many kinds of magic and some of them are meant to deceive,” he said in a clear, commanding tone. “I wasn’t certain before but I am certain now that this is the work of someone who should not be ignored.”

  “Orelin,” she yelled forcing the cold room to echo. “The case is over by my account. The killer admitted to the crime. He signed a confession and told us where to find the rest. We caught the monster that branded children and hunted people. And frankly, whoever made him go crazy and face his victim again should be hailed as a savior. So instead of lingering here like a sad pigeon, I think you should go back to where you came from and we can both pretend we've never met.”

  “Myra, stop being an absolute idiot for a moment and listen,” he insisted turning back to face her. “I am trying to warn you that this may not end here. I believe there is a powerful illusionist in Helden.”

  “A second-class magic user? In Helden of all places? That’s a little hard to swallow. What’s next, a first class in my… what… why is it doing that?”

  She pointed at the body in the middle sitting up on the table behind Ori. It turned slightly to the left but otherwise made no sudden movements. The top of its head had been sewn back but the stitches had melted into the flesh. It had no mouth and no ears, only holes resembling a nose and pale murky eyes that wondered about aimlessly.

  “Oh, this is what I wanted you to see," he said gesturing at the creature. "This is the blank canvas they used to cast the illusion onto. It works like a projection on a wall, except the wall becomes conscious for a time. Illsuions like this are drawn from memory, and I fear the memory is that of the killer."

  "By gods' mercy... why is it alive?"

  "Oh no, it's quite dead. It just doesn't know what it is anymore.”

  “What’s wrong with you?” she screeched, reaching for her weapon. “I'm not going to let this thing escape.”

  “Relax, it's harmless. This is just a muscle spasm, like a chicken walking without a head. Nothing unusual. It'll be gone by morning.”

  “Damn. If I ever see you again wizard, I will kill you.”