How could my clever girl twist my words like that? It was beyond comprehension.

  Finella gave her version of events, where she first comforted a weeping friend, assuring her that I wasn’t like that, that I was decent, and then, apparently, saw me in the company of two girls. I had to explain, had to tell the whole story. Damn it! Right there in the car park, I spilled everything to Simon and Finella — things I’d been too embarrassed to discuss with Ellie.

  As Grandpa used to say, emotion is a poor counsellor, and mine were in overdrive: confusion, irritation, and fear. I was genuinely afraid Finella might fill Ellie’s head with nonsense and we’d end up breaking up. Only later, in the car, and through a sleepless night, did I manage to reflect properly.

  A thought occurred to me. Just a thought, a small, spiteful seed, putting down feeble roots in the granite of my mind: Should we really stay together if we need friends to help us understand each other? Ellie clearly didn’t understand me. Not that it was her fault, more likely a matter of inexperience, upbringing, naivety… a dozen things like that.

  I woke with a splitting head. Looked like hard times had come at last.

  The morning training was an utter disaster: Knuckles wiped the floor with me during sparring, and Cap peppered me with spells, while not a single one of mine worked. Not a single one. At all.

  And after that miserable session, Harry insisted we talk, supposedly to check on my progress, but really to ask about de Camp. As usual, we started in the kitchen: serious topics were off-limits while the tea was brewing. But once it was ready and we moved up to the wizard’s study, Harry got straight to the point.

  “Why didn’t you tell me anything?”

  “Sorry, it all happened so fast. I didn’t want to drag you into it. You and Lionel have... a different sort of relationship. He can apply pressure.”

  “He’s already started,” Harry snorted. “But I’m not exactly new to the game. Still, forget de Camp. Why didn’t you say anything about the attack?”

  The dying gunner’s face flashed back into my mind. Incredible. Turns out that even something engraved into your memory by spellwork can be… if not forgotten, then at least buried. I even blushed — killed a man and forgot! And got Harry into trouble as well.

  My mentor didn’t understand my reaction and demanded a full report. I managed it in fifteen minutes. When you have to tell the same story to several people, you get used to keeping it short and focused. I also mentioned what had made me forget about the attack, though I only said briefly that I’d had a fight with Ellie.

  Harry didn’t press for details, but gave a firm order: “Sort things out with the girl. I don’t care how — either make up or break up. The less rubbish cluttering your head, the easier it’ll be to master the second fast-cast spell. The second and the third. You’ll study them in parallel.”

  “My heart’s still sealed,” I reminded him.

  The damned seal had lost a good chunk of runes, gained a couple of big cracks, and looked ready to crumble, but it clung on with tick-like tenacity.

  “Doesn’t matter. It’s not going to be quick anyway. You’ll need a couple of years for it. Besides, you’ve already started learning one of the spells.”

  If Harry was trying to surprise me, it didn’t work.

  “Terrakinesis,” I said.

  We’d discussed spells often enough, and he knew I liked telekinesis for its versatility. Terrakinesis was more limited: it couldn’t lift anything living, no flesh-and-blood creatures, plants, or anything made from them, but that weakness was easily outweighed by the sheer number of things it could affect. There’s never a shortage of earth, stone, or bricks lying about. In essence, it could temporarily make me an earth sorcerer. The spell’s strength depended on how much stone I tried to shift and how much power I used. I could juggle crystalline blades for an hour, they were reservoirs themselves, but a cobble ripped from the pavement would drain my source quickly.

  Speaking of which! I remembered, and flicked one of the blades from my sleeve, letting it spin in the air.

  “Funny thing — I’ve noticed they’re great at breaking through shields.”

  “Are they, now?” Harry smiled. “Try breaking mine.”

  I waved him off.

  “Let’s not demonstrate my inadequacy, thanks. I know I can’t break yours. I’m more curious why it was so easy with the gang’s shields. I thought maybe it was sheer will, that I pushed through by force, but, thinking it over, that seems a bit far-fetched. If that were the case, there’d be instructions in the clan somewhere about how to handle mages and those with amulets.”

  "Exactly. The bandits were probably using standard Fairburn shields. They’re designed to deflect tiny projectiles moving at high speeds. And they only work within the conditions inscribed by runes on the amulet. That’s why they explode when overloaded. My amulets, for example, don’t explode… well, not usually."

  "The blades are small, and I had them moving at quite a pace."

  "It’s not about willpower, it’s about control. The blades are reservoirs — large ones. You didn’t overpower the amulets yourself, it was the difference in magical potential between the blades and the shields. Did you notice the drain after each strike? You were instinctively using just enough energy to break through. If I’d been in your opponents’ shoes, I could’ve held the shield too, drawing on internal reserves."

  "Got it. So that’s settled. What about the second spell — the spatial pocket?"

  "Not so fast. We’re not done with the first one. Hand me the bracelet."

  "Why?"

  I grew wary, pressing my right hand against my left forearm, pinning the bracelet to my skin beneath my shirt. The blades had proven brilliant in combat, I wasn’t keen to give up a top-notch battle amulet.

  "Because I said so," the teacher snapped, wearing a particularly nasty smirk. I swear, he lives to complicate my life.

  There was no escaping it: four blades slipped from my sleeve one after another and landed on the table. I rolled up my sleeve and unclasped the wide leather bracelet with its two buckles and several metal plates, each mounted with small blood and ether reservoirs, and engraved with runes forming the terrakinesis spell.

  In return, Harry handed me another bracelet from a drawer. It was almost identical, except that, instead of several plates, it had one large one covering the back of the forearm, and no blood or ether reservoirs at all. Blood I could do without, in this version it simply served as a link to the user, but without the ether, I’d have to rely entirely on my own reserves.

  The engraving on the new plate caught my eye — fine craftsmanship, so delicate that even my clan-enhanced eyesight could barely make it out. In the old version, Harry had split the spell into parts and spread them across multiple plates, making the bracelet more flexible. Here, the spell was whole. No… not quite. It was missing an inner circle — some of the runes were absent.

  A spell without a heart.

  But what about in the subtle realms?

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  There, the bracelet glowed like a dense knot of ether and earth. All the symbols and lines blurred into a grey-blue haze. I had no idea what the wizard had mixed in. Though… in the centre, I thought I saw a tiny seed of blood.

  I flipped the bracelet over and peered underneath the plate. Sure enough, there was a hole in the leather, and beneath it, a thin aquamarine reservoir plate.

  I looked up at my teacher with a silent question.

  "Go ahead," he said.

  I picked up one of the blades from the table and pricked my little finger. Before the blood had even welled up, I pressed it to the reservoir to bind the bracelet to me. I felt the connection immediately, but no matter how I turned the thing over in my hands, I couldn’t get anything more out of it. It no longer responded.

  "I’d love to watch you struggle," said Harry, "but… put it on and wave your hand over the plate."

  I did as instructed, and a large schematic of the spell appeared in the air, about the size of my forearm. A complete schematic, with a core hovering just above it in a separate plane. I realised I had to align both parts to activate the spell. Reaching out with my will, I nudged the core downward. The two halves joined, and I felt not just the blades on the table, but the geranium pot on the windowsill, a hefty cobblestone in the cupboard, and a mess of reservoirs scattered in the desk drawers and shelves…

  Hell, I even felt the walls of the Anvil itself, as if they were part of my body.

  And in that moment, the rush of sensation was too much — the spell collapsed.

  Harry shook his head.

  "And here I was hoping I could make the assignment harder."

  "Alas… There’s just too much stone around. Before, I could only sense four blades. Now it’s the whole bloody building. I’ll need to train in the back yard. I’m curious what kind of effect it’ll have on open ground."

  "So the issue is control over the active spell? Hand it over."

  "Harry, no! Have mercy!"

  "Don’t argue with your teacher!"

  Right before my eyes, Harry modified the bracelet, enlarging the detachable section by half. Just enough to push it beyond my current skill level.

  I’d need to check my gun’s ammo. The blades could no longer be trusted.

  "By the way, I forgot to mention," Harry added, "don’t forget to recharge the spell, it’s single-use in this case, just like in the book. Also, I crammed so much into the bracelet, there was only room left for two blade mounts. The other two, you’ll have to carry in your pocket."

  I nodded. What else could I do?

  Meanwhile, Harry laid a second bracelet on the table, visually identical to the first.

  "I debated for a long time whether to let you in on this secret…" Harry put on a stern expression. "I’m counting on your good judgement. Everything I’m about to say is meant for my student, not for a member of the Bremor clan."

  "You sure?" I stopped him. Someone else’s secret is just that — someone else’s. You can’t treat it lightly. Even among the Bremor, there are secrets we keep from each other. Warlocks, for instance, often keep one or two tricks up their sleeve — a last resort they won’t even tell their closest kin about. "I appreciate your trust, but there are many ways to extract information. If someone really knows how to ask, getting an answer is only a matter of time."

  "Do you want the pocket or not?"

  "I do."

  "Then listen!" Harry ordered.

  But instead of launching into some long, secret-filled speech, the wizard went over to one of the cupboards and pulled out that granite boulder I’d sensed earlier through the spell — a massive red-and-black stone, easily the size of three of my heads.

  Harry dropped it on the table. The tabletop creaked in protest. He scratched up the varnish a bit as he turned the boulder to face me. On one side was a multi-layered diagram drawn in ink.

  "Here’s your pocket," the wizard said. "It can hold up to half of what you see on the outside, tightly packed, like the items lose their shape and turn to liquid. You could even stuff a rifle in there if you wanted, no matter how much longer it is. If the stone gets destroyed, everything inside spills out."

  There it was, the secret Harry had been meaning to share with me. Somewhere, there’s another stone just like this, with a spellbook, a staff, and maybe more locked inside.

  Grandad definitely never had a stone like this, though, to be fair, he could never pocket anything but his enchanted dagger, which wasn’t exactly a physical object. Most likely, the blade dissolved into ether, merged with the essence of a higher etherial or something like that. So it didn’t have a material form.

  That had its advantages, obviously. But also…

  "I can put anything in there?"

  "The item needs to carry a trace of your subtle body. Like these crystal blades, you’ve used them enough that they’re saturated with your aura. That’s why you can’t store anything alive. Reservoirs and amulets are fine, but potions, even ones you’ve brewed yourself, best not. They go off."

  "What if I want a bigger pocket?"

  "Not a problem. The spell can be cast on any suitable stone. I processed this one to expand its holding capacity. Regular granite can hold items up to ten percent of its own volume. Some types of sandstone can handle over half, but they’re not exactly reliable."

  "Any stone at all?" I asked, surprised, glancing at the wall.

  "Don’t go stuffing anything into the walls!" Harry warned. I think I just figured out where he keeps his spellbook. "Push a bit of your magic into the boulder."

  "Ether or earth?"

  "Both," Harry said. "If you’re holding something, the spell will place it in the stone. If your hand’s empty, you can retrieve something."

  I placed my hand on the stone and channelled a bit of raw force into it. The boulder didn’t behave like a reservoir, so by the time I’d strapped on the second bracelet, the magic had already dispersed.

  Still, everything went according to plan. As I said, the bracelet was a copy of the first, only the diagram on the plate was different, though the principle was the same. The core of the spell was larger this time, but Harry spared me the trouble of enlarging it further. I did my best not to show how easily I activated it.

  As soon as the massive diagram aligned, the magic flowed into my fingertips, making them hard, heavy, and numb. I could barely feel the crystal blade in my hand.

  I pushed it into the boulder, and it sank in like water.

  Something about it reminded me of a funeral in the Ancient Stones… and that time I nearly drowned in the rock of a magical source when my reservoir first awakened.

  I wanted to keep practising and pull the blade back out, but the spell in the bracelet was already spent. I’d bet anything Harry had made it single-use on purpose, didn’t want me getting too comfortable.

  Under Harry’s amused gaze, I had to recharge it.

  At least retrieving the blade was easier than putting it in. I just remembered the feel of it in my heavy fingers, twitched slightly, added a bit of will, and there it was in my hand again. Before the spell faded, I went with my gut and willed the crystal to return.

  It vanished.

  This time, I didn’t even need to put it back in manually.

  "Right, off you go. Do your experimenting elsewhere. The closer you are to the stone, the less energy the transfer costs, but I wouldn’t recommend creating pockets left, right, and centre."

  I understood.

  If an enemy found out about the pocket, they could destroy the stone or invent a counter-spell to block the transfer. And if Harry’s enemies observed me using it, they might deduce the nature of his pocket. So best not to show off this trick in public either.

  "Thanks, Harry," I said, genuinely.

  No matter how awful this day had started, by evening, things were finally looking up.

  Ah, hell — I still had to deal with Ellie!

  I stood up and headed for the door.

  "Hey, forgetting something?" Harry gestured toward the boulder and the three crystal blades still lying on the table.

  "Oh, right! Where am I supposed to put it?"

  "Shove it under your bed for all I care. Or cart it off to Avoc. Makes no difference to me."

  The granite, surprisingly, turned out to be quite light. I’d expected it to weigh around forty kilos, but it was more like twenty. And yes, I did end up shoving it under the bed.

  I refreshed all my spells, attached two blades to the terrakinetic bracelet, stashed the other in the ‘pocket’, got dressed properly and headed out to see Ellie.

  On the way, I debated whether I should bring flowers or sweets, but dropped the idea. She might take it as an admission of guilt. And damn it, I hadn’t done anything wrong.

  Outside her house, I was startled to see a familiar roadster.

  I couldn’t ignore it, or more precisely, its driver, so I went straight over and leaned into the open window.

  "What the hell, Kate? If that’s meant to be some subtle message, I don’t get it, don’t appreciate it, and I’m bloody furious."

  The matriarch of the vampire clan lowered her oversized sunglasses and replied with a teasing smile:

  "Oh, come on, Duncan, I know exactly what you’re like when you’re furious."

  But the next line came without a trace of flirtation — dead serious: "They were watching the Anvil. You had a tail."

  "I didn’t see anyone."

  "That’s because my girls clipped them right at the start. Rusty nail in the tyre — happens."

  She reached across the seat, picked up a large box, and shoved it out the window with some effort.

  "Everything we’ve got on the Rat King and the Brute. As you can see, I’m holding up my end of the bargain. The box is full of interesting stuff, especially for your alchemists. So I wouldn’t leave it unattended. And I definitely wouldn’t let the police catch you with it. Enjoy your evening, Duncan."

  The roadster’s engine growled, and I stepped aside.

  What the hell had she given me?

  I returned to Cooper, placed the box on the bonnet and opened it.

  A sharp, bitter smell hit me instantly. On top of thick folders was a bundle wrapped in oilpaper, boldly labelled Opium. Next to it rolled two vials, one powder, one liquid, Heroin and Elven Dew, respectively.

  "What a bloody bitch," I muttered.

  Well, so much for my date.

  You couldn’t exactly leave that in the back seat, but you couldn’t bring it inside either. Ellie’s father was a vet, he’d recognise the scent of narcotics in a heartbeat. And the fact that he was a shifter only made things worse. Even if the old bull’s nose wasn’t sharp enough, her brother Garfield, a horse, would definitely smell it. Horses had senses almost as good as dogs.

  Bloody bloodsucking witch.

  I tossed the box into the back seat, started the engine, and drove off to the slums.