She patted my arm. “Couldn’t we all?”
“—well, obviously, they were adjusted.” Radu was still talking, and now he sounded pissed.
“Adjusted?” That was Kit. “You’re talking about goddamned toys. They’re supposed to be harmless!”
“Mostly harmless.”
“What?”
“As Douglas Adams would say.”
“What?”
“Read a book sometime, you philistine.”
“Radu,” Louis-Cesare said. His head was leaned back against the van’s side now, and his eyes were closed. He looked wiped.
“Very well. My point is, these toys, as you call them, aren’t toys at all. They’re low-grade weapons made for personal defense—”
“PPDs,” Kathy said.
“What?”
“That’s what they’re called in the trade. Personal protection devices.”
“Thank you.” Radu looked like he was making a note of it. “In any case, the only difference between these . . . PPDs . . . and whatever we encountered tonight is the amount of magic they hold. The spells are the same—”
“Bollocks!” Marlowe snapped. “Those damned things killed some of us!”
Radu paused. I could almost hear him reminding himself that some of the dead had belonged to Kit.
“He’s right.” That was Kathy. “My uncle has said for years that there ought to be more regulations on PPDs. There are plenty of guys flagged by the Circle so they can’t buy real weapons, who get some of the low-grade stuff, add a bunch of extra magic, and go to town.”
“And who the hell are you?” Kit demanded.
“I already told you. I’m one of the night docs for the Brooklyn on-call service—”
“I know that! It doesn’t mean you know anything about weapons!”
“I don’t,” she agreed placidly. “My uncle does. Why do you think I was at your party?”
Marlowe didn’t look like he cared. “You should have left with the rest!”
“I have a patient to look after, and you’re not the boss of me.” Kit blinked at her, his expression somewhere between angry and surprised. Like a lion being lectured by a mouse. “Anyway, my uncle is Aaron Samuelson,” she continued.
Nothing.
“Of Samuelson & Todd?”
I’d never seen Marlowe go from asshole to angel that fast. “Ms. Samuelson!” An attempt was made at a smile. “My apologies. It’s been a difficult night for all of us—”
“Oh, I don’t know. I think it’s been kind of stimulating.” She smiled back. “You have a nice butt.”
And, for the second time in one night, I saw Marlowe at a loss for words.
“This is what I think happened,” Radu said. “Our opponents needed a large number of weapons, but were having difficulty acquiring enough from their own sources. The Black Circle is formidable, but weapons manufacturing is a specialized field. Just because you’re a mage doesn’t mean you’ll be any good at it.”
“People train for years,” Kathy agreed. “There’s an apprenticeship and everything.”