As he read, Owen’s eyebrows raised, and then he straightened and said, “You’ve got to be kidding. Where do these people get this stuff?”
“I’ll give you one guess,” I said.
“They’re trying to make me into a villain! And it doesn’t make any sense because Mack was there from the Council, and he wouldn’t have let me go if he thought I was guilty.”
“Mack left directly with the prisoner,” I reminded him. “They’ve apparently left out any pictures of you two going into the building together.”
“I haven’t seen any,” Perdita confirmed.
“At least they don’t name me,” he said. “It’s just pictures and rumors about an unnamed wizard criminal—probably because libel laws work in the magical world, too, and naming me would bring in the boss. But still…” He sounded more frustrated and sad than angry, like this was a big disappointment to him. “I’ve just been trying to help.”
“Was there something you needed from me?” I asked him.
“I need to talk to Idris again. I don’t know if that barricade was one of his spells or a more recent one, but if he knows something, it could help, and maybe we’ve let him stew long enough that he’ll tell us more.”
“You need me for that?”
He shrugged wearily. “He won’t talk unless you’re there. I don’t know why, but is it worth arguing? I know I’d like you there. He’s calmer when you’re around.”
“Then I can’t imagine what he’s like when I’m not there,” I said. As we headed to the detention area, I watched Owen carefully. He had changed clothes since Saturday, and he had shaved, but I wasn’t so sure about sleeping or eating. “You’re going to make yourself sick if you keep this up,” I said.
“You saw what happened Saturday. I don’t want another incident where we can’t get our people in before the entire police department shows up—or Spellworks takes the credit.”
When we got to the detention area, Idris wasn’t looking so good. He was pale and shaky and had developed a distinct twitch. “Oh, thank God!” he called out when we entered the interrogation room. “I thought you’d forgotten about me.”
“What happened to you?” I asked. He looked bad enough that I didn’t have to pretend to be concerned. “Are they not feeding you?”
“Oh, the food’s pretty good.”
“Are you sick? Do you need medical attention?”
“No, I’m fine. But I haven’t had anyone to talk to! Nothing to read! Nothing to watch! Nothing to do! I’m going insane!”
I couldn’t help but wince. For most people, that would be awful, but for someone with Idris’s attention span, that must have been a good approximation of hell.
“We’ll see what we can do about that,” Owen said. “Of course, it all depends on how cooperative you are.”
“I’ll cooperate! I will!”
Owen leaned forward, bracing his elbows on the table. “Did you do any development on the barricade spell?”
“Barricade spell?”
“Quick magical dome over a large area, blocks out not only magic but also physical entry.”
Idris frowned in thought, and his fingers twitched like he was mentally typing. “There was something like that—I think the basis had to do with battlefields. I didn’t develop it fully because it takes a lot of concentration, but it came from that book in your office, the old one.”
“That narrows it down,” Owen said acidly.
Idris snapped his fingers as if conjuring the memory. “Oh, you know, the red one, it was about spells for war.”
“I think I know the one you mean. Thank you. You’ve actually been helpful for a change.”
Idris leaned back in his chair and clicked his tongue as he smirked. “Glad I could help. Come to me any time you need assistance with magical matters.”
With a great demonstration of maturity, Owen ignored the barb. Idris sat up straight and beamed at Owen. “Don’t tell me someone actually used that spell! Wow!”
“That’s not something I’d be proud of, considering the way it was used,” Owen grumbled.
I gave Idris a pitying look. “With all those spells you were developing, you didn’t really want to hurt people with magic, did you?”
“Are people being hurt?” My bruises had healed, but I just had to point to my neck to remind him. “Oh, yeah, I guess they are. I only wanted to have some fun.”