wires and chips. No blood.” She returned her attention to the breastplate. “She’s got a pulse. She was forged in el siglo del oro by a master smith. It’s a crime to have something like this under Plexiglas.”
Cindée gave her a look. “Is this like an art appreciation thing?”
Lucian interposed himself between Duessa and the armor. “I think what she means is that the breastplate is a sacred artifact. Something that required great skill and intensity to create. That kind of psychic effort leaves a trace, and someone with Duessa’s particular skill set can read that kind of trace far more effectively than your mass spectrometer. But only if you let her touch it.”
“Her,” Duessa corrected him.
He blinked. “Yes. Her.”
Cindée looked at me uncertainly.
I shrugged. “Call Selena.”
Cindée sighed and picked up her phone. She dialed an extension. “Selena? Hey, this might be a silly question. But I was just—” Her eyes widened. “Really? Are you sure? Well, you can’t blame me for wondering. Fine. I will.”
She closed her phone.
“She told you to do anything Duessa asks. Right?”
Cindée frowned at me, then nodded. “Basically, yes.”
Duessa merely winked at her. “Don’t feel bad, sweetheart. It’s just one of the privileges of being a senior citizen in this community. Deference is a perk.”
I looked at her curiously. “Care to define ‘senior citizen’? ”
“Don’t even try it, Tess.” Lucian put his hands in the pockets of the lab coat. “If she won’t tell me her age, she’s certainly not going to tell you.”
Duessa shook her head. “Una mujer necesita sus secretos.”
He chuckled. “Tiene secretos peor que este, amiga.”
“And that’s how they’re going to stay. Secret.” Duessa returned her gaze to the armor. “Now. Let’s pop this top.”
Cindée entered a code into the keypad next to the display case. Then she swung the front open gently. “Please put on a pair of gloves, at least. The amino acids from your hands could do irreparable damage.”
I started to hand Duessa a pair of latex gloves, but she shook her head, reaching into her purse. “No worries. I have my own.”
She pulled on a pair of gloves and approached the case. We all fell silent. It was like waiting for the armorwhisperer to do something miraculous.
Duessa laid her hand gently on the front of the armor. Her eyes went distant. “Dímelo tu,” she murmured.
An arc of white light passed between her fingers and the metal. She leaned in closer. I felt something sharp in the pit of my stomach. Then I heard a strange buzzing in my ears. I turned to Lucian, but his expression was unreadable. If this was a technique for utilizing materia, it was older than anything I knew about. Something close to the way that Miles could “profile” a spatial scene, only deeper and more intuitive.
Curiosity got the better of me. I reached out just for a moment with my senses, trying to brush against whatever power Duessa was channeling. It hit me in the face like a blow, stinging, making my eyes water and my lips ache. There was earth materia bound up in there somewhere, but that was just the surface. Beneath that, there was a layer of roiling dark energies, hungry and incandescent. It took all of my strength not to make a sound.
If Lucian noticed, he said nothing.
Duessa took her hand away. The white light cooled to a glow, then dissipated slowly. Thin vapors curled around her fingers, and I smelled burning plastic. The latex glove was gone.
“You’re lucky you didn’t set off the sprinklers,” Cindée said. “What was that? Some kind of energy-based microscopy?”
“It would take too long to explain.” Duessa reached into her purse and withdrew a bottle of hand sanitizer. She sprayed both hands, rubbed them vigorously, then replaced the bottle. “Major magic like that can really dry out your skin.”
“Did the armor tell you anything useful?” I asked. “Like where it was made,
Cindée gave her a look. “Is this like an art appreciation thing?”
Lucian interposed himself between Duessa and the armor. “I think what she means is that the breastplate is a sacred artifact. Something that required great skill and intensity to create. That kind of psychic effort leaves a trace, and someone with Duessa’s particular skill set can read that kind of trace far more effectively than your mass spectrometer. But only if you let her touch it.”
“Her,” Duessa corrected him.
He blinked. “Yes. Her.”
Cindée looked at me uncertainly.
I shrugged. “Call Selena.”
Cindée sighed and picked up her phone. She dialed an extension. “Selena? Hey, this might be a silly question. But I was just—” Her eyes widened. “Really? Are you sure? Well, you can’t blame me for wondering. Fine. I will.”
She closed her phone.
“She told you to do anything Duessa asks. Right?”
Cindée frowned at me, then nodded. “Basically, yes.”
Duessa merely winked at her. “Don’t feel bad, sweetheart. It’s just one of the privileges of being a senior citizen in this community. Deference is a perk.”
I looked at her curiously. “Care to define ‘senior citizen’? ”
“Don’t even try it, Tess.” Lucian put his hands in the pockets of the lab coat. “If she won’t tell me her age, she’s certainly not going to tell you.”
Duessa shook her head. “Una mujer necesita sus secretos.”
He chuckled. “Tiene secretos peor que este, amiga.”
“And that’s how they’re going to stay. Secret.” Duessa returned her gaze to the armor. “Now. Let’s pop this top.”
Cindée entered a code into the keypad next to the display case. Then she swung the front open gently. “Please put on a pair of gloves, at least. The amino acids from your hands could do irreparable damage.”
I started to hand Duessa a pair of latex gloves, but she shook her head, reaching into her purse. “No worries. I have my own.”
She pulled on a pair of gloves and approached the case. We all fell silent. It was like waiting for the armorwhisperer to do something miraculous.
Duessa laid her hand gently on the front of the armor. Her eyes went distant. “Dímelo tu,” she murmured.
An arc of white light passed between her fingers and the metal. She leaned in closer. I felt something sharp in the pit of my stomach. Then I heard a strange buzzing in my ears. I turned to Lucian, but his expression was unreadable. If this was a technique for utilizing materia, it was older than anything I knew about. Something close to the way that Miles could “profile” a spatial scene, only deeper and more intuitive.
Curiosity got the better of me. I reached out just for a moment with my senses, trying to brush against whatever power Duessa was channeling. It hit me in the face like a blow, stinging, making my eyes water and my lips ache. There was earth materia bound up in there somewhere, but that was just the surface. Beneath that, there was a layer of roiling dark energies, hungry and incandescent. It took all of my strength not to make a sound.
If Lucian noticed, he said nothing.
Duessa took her hand away. The white light cooled to a glow, then dissipated slowly. Thin vapors curled around her fingers, and I smelled burning plastic. The latex glove was gone.
“You’re lucky you didn’t set off the sprinklers,” Cindée said. “What was that? Some kind of energy-based microscopy?”
“It would take too long to explain.” Duessa reached into her purse and withdrew a bottle of hand sanitizer. She sprayed both hands, rubbed them vigorously, then replaced the bottle. “Major magic like that can really dry out your skin.”
“Did the armor tell you anything useful?” I asked. “Like where it was made,
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