George and Colby walked out of the interview room and down the hall towards us. They were talking – quietly enough that I couldn’t hear them, which in retrospect should have set off my warning bells, knowing my partner as I did. Just as they pulled into earshot, George said a final, muttered word and Colby actually laughed. It was the most animation I’d seen him exhibit all day, and maybe that should have alerted me too.
But no, poor naïve fool that I am, I took the two of them getting along like a house afire as a sign that we’d cleared away the obstructions and misunderstandings, that we could actually go after the spurk who was responsible for this mess. As a good sign, in other words. And of course, that was true. But there was a bit more to it than that.
Meanwhile, in my innocence, I was actually thinking about something else entirely as they approached. I was thinking about words, and how they have power. Trite, yes. But also true.
“You’re under arrest.” Those words have power. “I love you,” that has power too, of maybe a different kind. And then there’s magic. Magic, that I watch for and ward against every day, that haunts my dreams every night, that has taken friends from me and that I will probably never truly understand – and that is, at its heart, the unleashed power of the word.
I walked up the hall to meet George and Colby with some enthusiasm. Bradley followed, but without the enthusiasm, because we both thought that we knew what was coming. We knew that we were about to witness – to be part of – the unleashed power of words, of a kind of magic.
George winked at me, glanced at Colby and stood a little taller, trying for a degree of formality as he uttered the ritualized, but potent, words of power.
“Given that this investigation shows clear evidence of magical and/or other supernatural and/or unauthorized local-Fairyland trans-border activities, and in accordance with relevant federal, provincial and municipal laws, the Canadian Borderland Guard hereby take responsibility as the primary investigative body from this point forward.”
I like to think of it as bureaucratic alchemy, transforming base iron into the purest gold.
I waited for Colby to say the words that would finish the working. “We acknowledge that the Borderland Guard has primary jurisdiction in this matter.”
I almost missed it, then realized that amidst the familiar and routine words, there’d been one that I hadn’t expected.
Primary jurisdiction, not exclusive. That meant that –
“You’re going to keep working the case?” I asked.
“Your partner,” Colby said, “Agreed with me that we should continue to be involved, with you as the leads of course. There may still be elements of the case that fall within our purview.”
Spurking George. He’d gone behind my back, made some sort of arrangement with Colby, and sprung it on me. Knowing all the while that it was so perfectly reasonable that I couldn’t say word one against the idea.
“Okay,” said Bradley, and he sounded even less happy about the news than I was. I think he’d been looking forward to seeing the last of us. Or rather, me.
“Okay,” he said again, and drew himself up as he added, “So. It’s your show now. How are you going to run it?”
