Winter’s mouth tightened fractionally. I’d have hung around and waited for a ‘please’ except my skin began to tingle once more. ‘Fine,’ I snapped. ‘Anything in particular?’

‘Just get a book.’

I stomped back upstairs, swiped the nearest tome and stomped back down again, pausing only to read the spine. Approaching Magic With Empathy. Volume Two. Ha. Ha. Ha.

I thrust the book at Winter but he shook his head and pointed to the front doors leading to the outside world about twenty metres away. ‘Take it outside.’

‘Do you want to explain what this is about?’

He pinched off a headache. ‘Ms Wilde, please just do it.’

I regarded him silently for a moment or two. ‘You’re wishing I’d been sent to jail now, right?’

He didn’t answer. I shrugged and stepped forward, taking the book with me. Hot pain flashed through my body. ‘Ow!’ I yelped. ‘What the hell?’

‘Books have to be checked out at the desk before they can be moved beyond this point.’

‘Well, why the hell didn’t you say so? Are you trying to kill me now?’

The long look he gave me suggested great sufferance. ‘The ward around the display cabinet had degraded so it would have been simple to break it. This ward is a different matter.’

The pain coursing through my veins confirmed that it was very much still in operation. ‘So how did the thieves get past it?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘How did they know that the first ward had degraded?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Do you know anything?’

Winter gritted his teeth. ‘Investigations of this nature take time, Ms Wilde. There’s no sudden eureka moment where all is revealed.’ He paused. ‘Return the book.’

I glanced back at the stairs. ‘Sure,’ I said casually. I lifted up one hand and sketched out a rune in the air then let go of the book. It floated upwards, making its way back to its original position.

‘That was a waste of magic. The Order dislikes unnecessary and lazy spells.’

I clapped my hand over my mouth dramatically. ‘Gee. If only I’d known.’

He sighed in irritation. ‘Come on. There are more wards to test.’

Oh goody.

This time at least, Winter stepped up to the plate. He grabbed an old mixing bowl on display by the wall situated past the first pain-inducing ward. The card next to the bowl informed us that it was sixteenth century. A perverse part of me hoped Winter would inadvertently break it while trying to get it past the second invisible ward. All that happened, however, was a faint hiss emanating from under his breath as he tried to pass with the bowl in his hand. I peered more closely. It looked like his lips had turned a faint shade of blue.

‘I think you should try again,’ I suggested. ‘You know, just to be sure.’

Winter carefully replaced the bowl on its stand. He didn’t bother answering me this time; instead, he walked beyond the first two wards and glanced about for a suitable object to filch. I got bored watching him and headed to the front door, gazing at the people outside. They looked happy. The bastards.