“I’m here for a number of reasons,” Owen said neutrally, glancing at me. “One of which was to determine who was doing unauthorized magic in a place with no registered magic users. The timing of your magical activity in this location was highly suspicious, considering Katie’s position.”
Dean turned to look at me. “You’re mixed up in all this magic stuff?”
“At a very high level,” I said, trying not to sound like I was gloating about knowing more about magic than he did, even if he was the one with the powers. “It’s a long story, and I won’t get into all the details, but Owen and I both work for a company called Magic, Spells, and Illusions, Incorporated. Well, Owen does. I used to. You might think of it as the Microsoft of magic—they come up with and sell most of the spells used in the magical world. They needed me because of my magical immunity. There’s a rogue wizard out there trying to get darker spells into the market as our competition, and we’re—our company—trying to stop him. I had to come back here because he was targeting me in New York.”
“He’s the one running your magic school, and I came here to get to the bottom of it all,” Owen added.
“But that doesn’t get you off the hook. You’ve been using magic to commit crimes, and I can’t let that slide, no matter who you are.”
“And who are you?”
“I’m…” Owen’s voice trailed off, as though he wasn’t sure of the answer to the question. “I’m a fully trained and qualified wizard,” he said at last. “The kind of stuff you’re doing, I learned how to do by the time I was five. Of course, I didn’t apply it in quite the same way you have. Now I run the theoretical magic division in the research and development department at MSI. I study old spells and try to find ways to apply them to modern life, in addition to creating new spells for specific situations.
And I’m more or less leading our efforts to counter this rogue wizard, since he used to work with me and I know how he thinks.” I noticed that he left out the part where he was probably the most powerful wizard of his generation.
“What should we do with him?” I asked Owen. “We should probably turn him over to the police, but then that would require explaining how he committed the crimes.”
“Hey!” Dean protested. “How do you know I’m the one who robbed the stores? Maybe there’s another wizard around town.”
“You had all the stolen stuff in your house,” I reminded him.
“So, magic really doesn’t work on you?” he asked me, turning the subject away from his guilt. Then he raised his arms and chanted some mumbo jumbo. I felt the magic surround me, but as usual, it didn’t affect me a bit. I copped a casual pose, even yawned in mock boredom.
Owen let it go on awhile, then waved a hand. “Enough of that,” he said. I felt the magic die down.
“You don’t want to accidentally set the barn on fire with us in it.”
“You mean I could do that?”
“You have so little control over your power that you’re more likely to do the exact opposite of what you want than to actually accomplish anything. Now, where were we? Ah yes, we were explaining to you how stupid you were.”
“And trying to decide what to do with him,” I added.
“What we’re going to do is teach him a lesson or two, and then get some information out of him.”
“You’re not going to torture me, are you?” Dean asked, starting to look truly frightened.
“I don’t have to torture you,” Owen said wearily. “You’ll tell me what I want to know without me laying a hand on you. That’s a point you don’t seem to be grasping.”
Outside the barn, the dogs sent up a chorus of barks. A second later, Sam swooped into the barn and perched on a rafter. Dean screamed—a high-pitched, girly scream—and fell off his crate. “That—that thing! What is it? Get it away!”
Sam dropped to the ground in front of Dean, folding his wings back. “That ‘thing’ is a gargoyle,” he said. “Or, if you want to be politically correct about it, I’m a carved-stone American. Ancient guardian of churches, now serving as head of security for Magic, Spells, and Illusions, Incorporated.
Sam’s the name, investigatin’s my game.” He glanced over at Owen and me. “I take it this is our perp.”
“Sam, this is my brother, Dean. And yeah, he’s our perp.”
Sam came closer to Dean, studying him intently. “Seein’ as how he’s your brother, Katie-bug, I won’t tear his limbs off, just as a favor to you.”