“Hold it right there,” Marlow said, jumping to his feet and flashing a brightly lit version of his badge with the thrust of his palm. The overlarge projection of a shield and pentagram hung in the air in brilliant blue before it fizzled.
He moved forward slowly, approaching her with outstretched hands, but she pivoted with him, her surprise fading to a confident smirk. She had long dark hair and a high-collared gown that screamed Victorian punk.
“Look, it’s been a long night,” Marlow tried, hands still raised in placation. “I’m not just any officer. I’m a Storm Mage. You can’t run. How about you put down what you stole and walk away, and I promise I won’t follow?”
She chuckled, glancing at the book she carried, which was impossibly thick and had a crest with an elegant sword impaling a dragon on the leather-bound cover. “This was stolen from my family first.”
“Then I’m sure the police can help you recover it—legally.”