This isn't her job

Helena did not shift. She stared with the stillness of a hunter, only her eyes moving with minute flicks across Mari's eyes, her mouth, her wrists. The other woman's words gave little of her away to Helena, but the twitch of her cuffed hands betrayed a secret and strange aggression. The rough angles and harsh movements her fingers made, so like the lewd somatic components of rural, wild magicspinners, stood out. It was a depraved tell. The rebelliousness in her words refused to relinquish her dignity, of course.

I'm sorry if I have made an assumption. It is a reasonable assumption given what has been reported to me: farm animals killed, their bodies bloodless. Her voice softened, letting it cover the seed she was planting. It was not taken quite seriously enough until the bodies became human. So we have a Blood Mage in our midst. And you have something that I would call a motive. Hel leaned forward trying to make up her mind. It's okay if you cannot control the urges, but if you get these violences off your chest, we can help you control your magic, she offered, her gaze a dominating press. The stringent templar doubted such was possible with blood magic, but a little twist of the lie made many break their truth at a hope for mercy.