Veiled Magic by Deborah Blake Read Free Book Online

the thought of her childhood bogeymen actually being real. “If they’re after the painting, why don’t I just hand it over to the Alliance Council for safekeeping? Won’t that solve the problem?” She thought about it for a minute. “For that matter, if you knew what it was, why didn’t you just give it to the Council?”
    Farmingham quavered a little under her suspicious look, but then rallied. “The Council shouldn’t have it either. The painting is too important.” The Kobold crossed his arms firmly over his chest in unspoken support.
    â€œWhy not?” she asked. “If anyone can keep it safe from the Cabal—if they really exist—it should be the Council.”
    â€œDid you notice the sixth figure?” Farmingham said, pointing one wispy finger in front of her as if the painting were there.
    Donata shrugged. “You mean the one with the black blob where its face should be? I just thought the artist had made a mistake, or decided he didn’t like the way that bit turned out and decided to change it.”
    The restorer shook his head, bits of incense flying off as he did so. “Not at all. That’s the most important part of the painting, that black blob.”
    â€œHow can a missing spot be the most important part?” Donata asked impatiently. This whole conversation was starting to make her twitch, and she still hadn’t had dinner. If the painting was really as crucial as he said—and she had to admit she was starting to believe him—she’d just turn it over to the powers that be and wash her hands of the entire thing. Gladly.
    â€œIt is the sixth race,” he said. Like that was supposed to mean something to her.
    â€œThe sixth race?” That same forgotten memory that had niggled at her when she’d first had the vision came back to breathe down her neck, stirring the hairs there in uncomfortable sympathy. “Why does that sound familiar?”
    The ghost shook his head in amazement. “Does no one speak of the lost sixth race anymore? What kind of education do they give you Witches these days?” Disgust colored his slowly ebbing features. “An entire race of Paranormals, simply forgotten. It defies logic.”
    â€œThe lost sixth race?” Donata shifted her weight from foot to foot, bone tired after a long day. “My grandmother Nettie used to tell me stories, when my mother wasn’t around . . .” Her voice trailed off as she remembered the source of her nightmares. “She never even mentioned their names, just said they were more powerful than the rest of the Paranormal races put together, and could be cruel and capricious.” Donata suppressed a shudder. “I thought they were just tales. Most Paranormals say there was no such thing as the lost sixth race.”
    â€œThey also said the Pentacle Pentimentos didn’t exist either,” Farmingham said, his grim tone matching the gray incense that made up his temporary form. “The Council are a bunch of old fools—they would rather cling to their power and the status quo with all their might than deal with a possible threat to the entire world—both Human and Paranormal.”
    â€œI don’t understand,” Donata said. “Even if the sixth race did exist once, they’re gone now. Or so deep in hiding thatno one we know of has seen a trace of them in hundreds of years. Why would they be a threat?” She didn’t bother to argue with his first statement about the Council, since she agreed with his sentiments wholeheartedly.
    The restorer’s ghostly shape wavered, and then solidified again, but to a lesser degree than before. They were running out of time.
    He spoke so quietly, she had to move right next to him to hear what he said. “When I was doing my research into the painting, I came across a number of odd and frightening reports. Unexplained incidents involving serious