Much Ado About Magic (Enchanted, Inc. #5)

Much Ado About Magic (Enchanted, Inc. #5) Page 33

He looked at me like I’d grown a third arm. “What do you mean?”

“I mean thinking it’s a good idea to let Idris talk to anyone.”

“You were just trying to make him more cooperative.”

“Yeah, but to talk to us, not to talk to all our customers out in public where we can’t put a muzzle on him. I can’t believe you and Merlin agreed with Ramsay about that. It was like Attack of the Pod People in there.”

“You have to admit it makes sense,” he said with a shrug. “He’s the best evidence we have that Spellworks isn’t what they seem to be.” He resumed walking, so I had to walk with him if I wanted to continue the conversation.

“And you still trust Ramsay?” I asked.

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

“Well, aside from the fact that he wants to give our rather squirrely enemy a microphone at our event, don’t you think it’s a little weird that he always shows up to gloat whenever you being involved with saving the day gets misinterpreted?”

“No, because he’s not gloating. He’s trying to help.”

“How did that back there help, in any way, shape, or form?” I glanced around to make sure there was no one else in earshot before continuing with my voice lowered. “Think about it, Owen, who else is better situated to be behind all this? He gets inside info from us and inside info from the Council. He’s got access to money. He’s got the magical skills.”

“But why? He was already the president of MSI and on the Council. He gave that up when we brought Merlin back—and bringing Merlin back was his idea. If he wanted to rule the magical world, he was already there. He’s famous enough that if he did want to start his own company, he wouldn’t have to go through all of this to do so. He’d have put his name on it instead of wasting time with Idris.”

“I know I’m missing some of the backstory,” I admitted, “but he just bugs me, and I think there’s something seriously wrong with his idea to let Idris speak.”

“Merlin thought letting Idris speak was a good idea.”

“Merlin has, quite literally, been living under a rock for hundreds of years.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Katie,” Owen snapped so forcefully that it took me aback.

“Come on, you’re not even the tiniest bit suspicious?”

“I deal in facts, not suspicions. And I need to get back to work.”

I was left blinking in his wake as he headed down a corridor to his office, wondering if we had just had our first real fight. The two of us weren’t exactly high-conflict people, and we’d generally agreed about most things other than his working habits and my safety. This, though, seemed like a fundamental disagreement, and I couldn’t understand why he was being so pigheaded. It was like he was under a spell.

I gasped at the thought. That had to be it. Maybe Ramsay was using some kind of influence spell, like Rod’s old attraction spell, that made magical people trust him, and it didn’t work on me. That would explain everything. I still wasn’t sure why Ramsay would do these things or what his real goal was, but I thought it was worth looking into.

And if I was right, I’d have to go this one alone, without Owen’s help.

Chapter Eight

I wasn’t sure where to start researching Ramsay. Owen had always been my source for info on the magical world, but I couldn’t turn to him this time. If Ramsay was using influence spells to keep people on his side, then that ruled out everyone magical, which ruled out most people who’d know anything about Ramsay. That left the magical immunes, and only one of the immunes I knew was in a position to have the kind of information I needed: Kim.

She’d hated me from the start because I got the job as Merlin’s assistant that she’d been aiming for, and the fact that she’d replaced me in that job hadn’t made her like me any better. She was the last person I wanted to turn to for help. I’d rather have organized an Ivor Ramsay Appreciation Festival.

I stayed late that evening searching the company archives from my computer, but the only relevant item I found was an internal notice about Ramsay’s retirement about a year earlier. It didn’t go into much detail, mentioning only his long tenure with the company and many unspecified contributions. The photo with the notice was the usual corporate portrait.

I finally admitted to myself that Kim really was my only option. The next morning I did everything else on my to-do list, in hopes that some other solution would miraculously appear and I wouldn’t have to talk to her. Was it too much to wish that Owen would suddenly snap out of the spell and call to tell me I was right?