Excerpt: Misuse Of Magic

Our office was actually pretty spacious, given how old and full-to-the-gills the building was. There was a small antechamber, one wall given over entirely to file cabinets, that served double duty as reception and Josh’s office. A door off to the left led to the work space and the evidence room. (That was the reason we even had a suite, to be honest. If magical readings or artifacts are going to be used as evidence for anything, they’ve got to be kept somewhere uncrowded. Every once and a while, someone will get a burr under his blanket and decide we should merge the traditional and magical evidence rooms to save space. If he’s lucky, the evidence gurus down in the basement will explain why that’s a really really bad idea. If he’s not, they’ll ask me to supply something educational. The last time that happened, the manager in question had to replace his desk. And a window.) My office was straight back from the lobby door. It wasn’t much, by office standards- “cubby” would probably describe it just as well- but it held a desk and an overflowing bookcase and a stereo and Fred the Dead (the last in a long line of failed attempts to keep a plant alive in my office) and, most importantly, had a door. I can’t say that I really noticed any of the fine details this morning, however, because when I walked through the door Josh was leaning back in his desk chair with a casual air and a wand leveled at my head.

My body, well aware of my brain’s habit of demanding explanations when actions were called for, took over and flung me to the floor. I rolled until I could put my back up against the front of the desk and sat there waiting for current events to make sense. The casters on Josh’s chair squeaked as he leaned over the edge of the desk to peer at me with mild interest. “Jumpy this morning, aren’t we?”