Free Armageddon Rules by J. C. Nelson Page B

footing the bill for her retaking the class.
    “The damage from the Wild Magic isn’t healing as fast as Grimm thought it would.”
    I had to write a five-paragraph paper on each of the sources of magic during training, then had to rewrite when an off-leash hellhound ate not only the paper but the courier carrying it back to the Agency for me. The way I understood it, a seal bearer’s magic came from three sources: first off, the realm seal itself. Secondly, from inside the seal bearer herself. Those two were limited. The magic in the environment, around us, that was Wild Magic. It could be safely used as long as it was mixed with a little of the other two.
    “Grimm will think of something. I’ll make him.” I silently worried as I drove back. Magic couldn’t directly oppose magic. Damage from one type of magic couldn’t be undone with another type, normally. Then again, nothing about magic-wielding, seal-bearing princesses was remotely normal. So maybe the same rules didn’t apply. Maybe.
    *   *   *
    BACK AT THE Agency, I sank into a normal workday. I convinced the kobolds to leave by telling them I’d seen a dead deer in the alley on my way in. I sent Payday George away with a twenty-dollar bill and received a promise not to come back. A promise that would last at least until Monday. I returned another call from the owner of a shoe factory in west Pennsylvania who couldn’t figure out why his factory machines turned themselves on at night. That one I’d have to deal with. If you think child labor laws are restrictive, elf labor laws are about a dozen times worse.
    Then I put my head down on my desk and wished for the day to be over.
    You’d think that having worked the last eight years for the Fairy Godfather, I’d get at least one wish. No such luck. Rosa poked her head in the door.
    “Someone I need to take care of?”
    “Yes.” In eight years, I’d come to believe that if Rosa spoke more than six words at a time, she’d explode. Single syllables, a glare that could turn your blood to ice, and a sawed-off shotgun kept our lobby in order.
    “Send them in.”
    A moment later, a soft knock on the door preceded a trio of dwarves entering my office. Three feet tall, nasty beards, and every last one of them had a beer bottle in one hand. And I recognized these three. “You’re too late. Liam’s flight was this morning. Didn’t he tell you he was going to Europe on business?”
    The tallest of the three (by about an inch) took the red cap off his head and walked forward. “Magnus Mage, ma’am. Ms. Locks, we were hoping that you could help us. It ain’t about yer man.” He shuffled forward and dropped a jewelry box on my desk. “And we were ’posed to have this ready Monday, but Yiffy there bet me he could go on a longer bender.”
    I picked up the box, black metal with invisible hinges, and snapped it open. Inside lay a single gold band with a diamond inset. A ridiculously large diamond inset. I know my gems, and there was no way this wasn’t real. “You made this for Liam?”
    “Aye. Though I think ’twer for you. He been giving us the fire to forge it for the last few months.”
    Gaze locked on the ring, I lifted it, slipping it on. “He wasn’t playing cards.” Right then I knew I’d never take it off. “So tell me what you need.”
    The second dwarf stepped forward, hat in hand. “No authorities, miss. We were hoping you could handle this without their involvement. It’d be best if you saw for yourself.”
    “Few ground rules: If you’ve killed someone, I’m calling the cops. If you are dealing drugs, I’m calling the cops. If you are wanting me to buy Girl Scout cookies, I’m calling the cops. Anything else, I’ll help you with.” I grabbed my purse, put on my jacket, and headed for the door.
    “Rosa, tell Grimm I’m doing some field investigation,” I said as I left. She gave me the stink eye like always. Then I took three wee little men down to my car and we went for