My phone buzzed again, and with a sigh I hit the button to turn it off completely. I wasn’t likely to score a new client without my phone, but clients weren’t the ones cal ing right now. Tossing the phone on the counter, I turned back to my computer. I’d spent the last hour searching the Web for spel s and charms that could detect glamour. So far I’d run across some sketchy-sounding potions that used exotic—
across some sketchy-sounding potions that used exotic—
and probably fake—ingredients, and I’d found a couple of folklore-based glamour-piercing tricks, which, assuming they worked, would be even less feasible than my using my grave-sight whenever I left the house. After al , walking around peering through a stone with a natural y bored hole wasn’t exactly inconspicuous.
But I didn’t
