As I unlocked the front door, I tried to think of who I could ask about this. I knew I should tell Mom, but I'd never had trouble identifying a Prodigium before, and it wasn't something I was ready to own up to. Besides, this was meant to be my case. My chance to prove myself.
I wondered what Finley would say if she were here. Probably something like, "Stab him with silver and see if it kills him."
So that left me with only one option.
The house was quiet and dark when I stepped into the foyer, and Mom's car wasn't in the driveway. Still, I found myself walking softly as I made my way to the third bedroom. I hadn't been in there since we'd moved in, and when I opened the door, it was like being punched in the stomach.
Finley's things were in here. By which I meant her pillow and a photograph she'd had stuck to the mirror in our bedroom. It showed us when I was around six, Finn eight or nine. We were in the training yard, two little redheaded girls with our arms around each other's shoulders. It was a sweet picture (if you ignored the fact that I was holding a miniature crossbow and Finn's fingers were wrapped around the hilt of a sword), and I wished I remembered the day it had been taken.
There was also her belt, the one I'd found that night, slung around one of the bedposts. I wanted to go over to it, to hold it in my hands. Instead, I walked past the bed and over to the mirror that hung on the wall. It was, as usual, covered with a heavy piece of canvas. When I pulled it back, Torin was there, hip propped against the bed behind me.
He was examining his fingernails, bored, but when he realized I was there, his face brightened. "Hullo, Isolde. Pleasant day at school?"
"Not really," I told him. "But I needed to ask you something."
Torin folded his arms. "I'm not in much of a prophecy- spouting mood today, to be honest."
"I don't need to know the future. I need to know... I don't know, the present, I guess. I met this boy today, and he's...I don't know, he's something."
"Something as in he is handsome and you fancy him, or something as in he's one of my kind?"
Scowling, I replied, "He's Prodigium. I think. I don't know He felt strange when I touched him."
The second the words were out of my mouth, I regretted them. Torin's sly grin only intensified that regret.
"This is why I told Aislinn she should have more blokes around. A boy touches you, and you mistake hormones for magic."
I wanted to shake the frame, but I crossed my arms, mimicking his pose. "It wasn't hormones. It was magic. Or some kind of power. But not like any power I've felt before. It's...I don't know, really weak."
Finally, the grin slipped and Torin managed to look a little serious. "Weaker than mine?"
Even trapped in the mirror, Torin radiated power, and I nodded. "Yeah. I can usually pick up on a Prodigium within a few feet. But this guy, I didn't get it until he shook my hand. Could he just be...like, a really, really bad warlock?" But then I shook my head. "No, wait. He had asthma. If he were a warlock, he would've cured that." One of the benefits to being a magical being was that they almost never get sick.
Torin gave an elegant shrug. "Perhaps he's faking it. And something could be diluting his power. A counterspell or a binding charm. Did he seem odd?"
I thought back to Dex, to his weird, formal way of talking, and strangely old-fashioned, if stylish, outfit. "Yeah, but I'm not sure that's magic."
"If you find out where he lives, I can always slip into his mirror, find out for certain," Torin offered. "It would be, as you like to say, a gigantic pain in my backside, but I could try."
Torin moved pretty easily through the mirrors in our house because his original mirror was housed here. Getting into mirrors in other locations was tough for him, but I'd seen him do it before. And I'm not going to lie, the idea of sending Torin to check up on Dex was tempting. What if Dex was something dangerous? Okay, so maybe an asthmatic guy rocking a cravat didn't seem all the threatening, but what did I know? And I was here to investigate supernatural shenanigans.
But I couldn't get over the feeling that sending my pet warlock into a dude's mirror to spy on him was...well, icky. Especially when he was one of the few people at school who'd been nice to me today. So I shook my head. "No, let's not go that far. I'll work it out on my own."
"As you like," Torin said, going back to studying his cuticles. "But the offer stands."
I leaned back on the bed, bracing my arms on the footboard. In the mirror, it looked like we were standing practically on top of each other. "You just want me to owe you a favor."
"There is but one favor you can do for me, Isolde, and that is to release me from this prison."
The words sent a shiver through me. "That's never going to happen."
He glanced up, raising an eyebrow. "Oh, so now it's you with the gift of prophecy, is it? I know what I've seen. You are my key and my salvation."
Without answering, I got up and went to cover the mirror. His voice sounded muffled behind the canvas as he called, "Remember, a favor for a favor, Isolde. I can be very useful."
He could be. He had been. But his visions never came when we most needed them, and from everything Mom had told me, Torin had a way of twisting words and promises so that he got more than you were willing to give, and always gave you less than you wanted.
In other words, it wasn't worth it.
Sighing, I opened the door and walked into the hallway.
"What are you doing?"
I jumped as Mom's voice rang out in the quiet house. She was standing just inside the front door, frowning. "Isolde?" she asked, her body stiff.
I froze, a million lies rushing to my lips. But Mom always saw through those, and all lying did was piss her off. "I was talking to Torin."
"About what?"
"Just my day at school." That wasn't technically a lie, but Mom still frowned.
"Well, why don't you tell me about your day." Her expression hardened. "Specifically the part where you hurt some boy in your P.E. class?"
Ugh. So that's why she was so pissed. "It was an accident," I said for what felt like the millionth time that day, but Mom gave a frustrated sigh as she tossed her bag onto the hall table. "Damn it, Izzy, I told you, keeping a low profile is an essential part of every job."