The Book of Lies

by Melissa McShane

  “No. But Father would have. Helena, this is getting serious.”

  “What killings do you mean?” Parvesh said.

  “Familiars turning on their masters.”

  “I thought that was impossible.”

  Judy’s lips thinned in a scowl. “So did we.”

  Parvesh and Nimisha exchanged glances. “What is done with the familiars?”

  Judy stuffed her phone in her pocket. “They’re destroyed. If they’re caught. Patty’s familiar escaped and it’s loose in the city now.”

  I drew in a horrified breath. “It has to be caught.”

  “Brittany’s team is on it. They’ll find it before it hurts anyone.” Judy didn’t sound sure. It wasn’t that Brittany Spinelli wasn’t a skilled steel magus, almost as good a hunter as Malcolm; it was that Portland wasn’t a small city, and a familiar could go anywhere with its dog-form illusion. I hoped Brittany had the equivalent of the illusion-piercing monocle.

  “I hope this store is well warded,” Nimisha said. “Invaders are drawn to custodians.”

  “I know. And it is.” Maybe I needed to get a stone magus down to the store to check its wards. Just in case.

  “We would like to see the rest of the store, if it is not too much trouble,” Nimisha said.

  “Of course not.” They’d been so polite and not at all passive-aggressive. Last night had just been jet-lag, or whatever you got from traveling between wards. I waved them toward the back of the store, trying not to picture the familiar that was now roaming free in the streets of the city. I would feel a lot more comfortable if Malcolm were here to hunt it.

  I sat near the edge of the ballroom, which today was full of chairs rather than round tables, and covered my mouth to hide a yawn. The same woman who’d addressed us the night before, the chairwoman Laverne Stirlaugson, was talking about the marvelous opportunities for custodians here at the conference. She’d already invited us to check out the vendor room, which I fully intended to do, curious about what kinds of goods and services might appeal to custodians of magical Neutralities. Now she was talking about some last-minute changes to that afternoon’s programming.

  “…and there will be a buffet supper in this room starting at six,” she said. “As always, if you have any questions, feel free to ask.” Her expression said she didn’t intend for us to ask her. A scattering of applause throughout the room signaled the end of the session. I stood and collected my bag and purse, flipping through my program book. There were a few breakout sessions I was interested in, particularly one about how Neutralities policed their people for signs of partiality. I hoped that might give me some ideas for fixing my own problem.

  “Ms. Davies.”

  I looked up and saw a slender, olive-skinned middle-aged woman with frosted hair and cat’s-eye spectacles extending her hand to me. I juggled what I was holding and clasped it. “Yes?”

  “Rebecca Greenough,” the woman said. Her voice was pure BBC announcer and her smile didn’t make it all the way to her eyes. “How nice to finally meet you.”

  “Um…it’s nice to meet you, too.” I didn’t know what else to say. If she was poison as Lucia said, I needed to stay far away from her. But I had no idea how to do that, short of fleeing rudely out of the ballroom.

  “We have a connection, you know. I was an Abernathy before my marriage. My grandfather was Rowan Abernathy’s younger brother.”

  Warning bells went off inside my head. Rowan was Silas’s father, and if Silas had an uncle and cousins, one of them should have inherited the store when he abdicated—or maybe I was wrong about how the custodianship used to be transferred. “I didn’t know Rowan had family other than Silas. You should come to the store…there’s a picture of Silas—”

  “I’ll be sure to visit, thanks. It’s just odd to think I might have been custodian of Abernathy’s had things gone differently. Don’t you agree?”

  “You mean, if Silas hadn’t abdicated? Yes, I agree that’s an odd thought.”

  I’d just reflected her words back at her, but she frowned as if it had been an insult instead. “You don’t know what happened, do you?”

  “I don’t. I just know they had to do auguries for three weeks to determine the next custodian.”

  “Mark—my grandfather—didn’t want to move to Portland. I can hardly blame him. Such a small city.”

  Her dismissive tone of voice irritated me. I was pretty sure there was more to it than that. “I’m sure a lot of places are small compared to London.”

  “Indeed. Abernathy’s thrived in Charing Cross Road.”

  “It’s thriving here.”

  “I would hardly call it thriving.” Greenough glanced around the ballroom as if assessing its qualities and coming up short. “No, hardly that. But it won’t matter soon.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  Her eyes widened in what I was sure was pretend surprise. “You haven’t heard? I’m petitioning the Board of Neutralities to move the oracle back to London where it belongs.”

  “That’s impossible. Abernathy’s can’t be moved.”

  “It was moved once. I’m sure it can be done again.”

  “You don’t understand. That move was an act of desperation, to protect the store against the Blitz. It was extremely dangerous and shouldn’t be repeated.”

  Greenough made a dismissive wave. “Times have changed. It no longer takes weeks to cross the ocean. I can assure the Board of the oracle’s safety during the whole process. I’ve even purchased the store Abernathy’s used to be housed in. I just need their authorization.”

  “They won’t give it. They don’t like change. And I’ll persuade them otherwise.”

  “You? The girl under whose supervision the store has nearly been destroyed twice? You think they’ll care anything at all about your opinion?”

  Her casually dismissive tone infuriated me. “I’ve saved the store twice.”

  “I’m sure they’ll see it otherwise.” She smiled, a smug expression that made me itch to slap her.

  “You mean you’ll tell the story your way. You weren’t even there, Ms. Greenough.” I put enough disdain into my words to make them a weapon. Greenough didn’t even flinch.

  “I have influence with the Board. I think you should start getting your passport in order—if that’s even necessary.”

  Now I felt cold. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  The smug smile broadened. “The Board may decide the custodianship of Abernathy’s should go to a London native. Someone familiar with the ways of the city.”

  “You mean, you?”

  Greenough’s eyes widened again. “I already have a custodianship, Ms. Davies. But I’m sure I wouldn’t turn down Abernathy’s if they offered it to me. I feel I have a right, after all.”

  My hand had closed into a fist. “You won’t succeed.”

  “Keep telling yourself that, dear.”

  I made my fist relax and smiled pleasantly. “I have an idea,” I said. “Why don’t we ask the oracle what it thinks?”

  That rattled her. “What?”

  “Well, it’s got more of an investment in your proposal than either of us. Let’s ask it for an augury and see what it has to say.”

  Greenough’s smile turned nasty. “Very well,” she said. “Tomorrow morning. And don’t even think about falsifying it.”

  “Ms. Greenough, I never falsify auguries. And the fact that the possibility occurred to you tells me you’d be a terrible custodian.”

  Greenough’s lip curled derisively. She swept away out of the ballroom before I could slap her silly.

  I drew in a deep, relaxing breath. This was ridiculous. If the Board hated change so much, it certainly wouldn’t move Abernathy’s for such a frivolous reason as one woman trying to recreate history. But I needed to make sure. I needed to talk to the Board. And hope Abernathy’s would deliver an augury that would put the whole ridiculous notion to rest.

  Laverne Stirlaugson was at the far side of the room, talking to a b
oard member I knew named Ragsdale. I hurried across the room and stood politely to one side, waiting for her to finish telling Ragsdale something. Ragsdale saw me hovering and cleared his throat discreetly. Stirlaugson turned her head and assessed me with her eyes. I held myself upright and tried not to look like a puppy whining for a treat.

  “See to it,” she told Ragsdale, and turned to face me. “Yes, Ms. Davies?”

  “Hi, um, Ms. Stirlaugson, I…” Now was not the time to stammer. Or to beat around the bush. “Is it true Ms. Greenough has petitioned to move Abernathy’s back to London?”

  “It is.” Her face was closed-off, remote, and I suddenly felt I had no chance whatsoever. I persisted anyway.

  “Does the Board know how dangerous it is to move the oracle? How difficult it was the first time?”

  “The Board is aware, yes.”

  “Then why haven’t you told Ms. Greenough no?”

  Stirlaugson raised an eyebrow. “Ms. Davies, Ms. Greenough has some compelling arguments. London is far more central to our interests than Portland. Imagine how much more London has to offer this conference.”

  “The conference only happens once every three years. Abernathy’s has to operate every day.”

  “If you have a statement to make, you’ll be given the opportunity. We have not yet made our decision. Now, if there’s nothing else…?”

  I knew a dismissal when I heard one. “No, ma’am. Thank you. Nice to see you again, Mr. Ragsdale.” I managed not to bow—Stirlaugson looked every inch a queen—and made my escape.

  Outside in the hallway, I took a moment to gather myself. A statement, she’d said. I needed to marshal my best, most persuasive arguments, and I’d have the chance to present that to the Board. And at worst, well, I’d never lived abroad and it might be interesting. To live far away from my family. And how would Malcolm justify spending all his time in London? Don’t be stupid. The worst is that they take the custodianship away from you. Which was about as awful a worst as I could imagine.

  I breathed in deeply again. Fretting wouldn’t solve the problem. I headed for the Everest room and my first presentation of the conference. I had plenty of time. And I wasn’t going to let that bitch Greenough ruin my life.

  But I had trouble paying attention to the presentations, which were mostly aimed at the node custodians. The panel on policing the Neutralities only made me discouraged, because it was just like the Accords—they looked for indications that you might someday be biased, not signs that you already were. Why couldn’t they give us even a little credit?

  After three breakout sessions, I was tired and hungry and disinclined to talk to people. The buffet was less intimidating than the formal dinner had been, though the food was still excellent, and I helped myself to roast chicken and new potatoes and found a table off to one side, hoping no one would try to talk to me.

  “Helena! Why do you sit alone? Come, Elisabeta and I will sit with you.” Carlos swung the seat next to me away from the table and dropped into it. “You look tired.”

  “I feel tired.”

  “Then you must join us for a drink after dinner, down in the bar,” Elisabeta said. “The parties begin tonight. You will need your strength for that.”

  I smiled, half-heartedly. “I think I need a nap first.”

  “You have worked all morning, I forgot,” said Carlos. “Yes, nap, but we will call for you at eight.”

  Their enthusiasm was infectious. “All right.”

  “Where do you go next?”

  “I was going to look in the vendor room. I’m curious about what people sell to Neutralities.”

  “Many things. Specialized software that lets us track movement of sanguinis sapiens. Security systems. Items for law enforcement. Magical versions of common things. You may find it interesting.”

  I took a few more bites. The roast chicken was a little dry, but the potatoes made up for it. “I’ve only known about the magical world for a little over a year, so I’m still fascinated by the things you all come up with.”

  Carlos chuckled. “Very well. You will explore, and nap, and be ready for parties!”

  “Drinks first,” Elisabeta said. “You must talk to that divine bartender. I’m sure I saw him watching you yesterday.”

  “I already have a boyfriend,” I said.

  Elisabeta shrugged. “That doesn’t mean you cannot flirt.”

  I was sure that wasn’t true, so I smiled and took another bite so I’d have an excuse not to respond.

  By the time I was finished eating, I felt more cheerful, not hard to explain when I had Carlos and Elisabeta laughing and teasing me. I walked away from the table feeling full and content. Being miserable wouldn’t solve my problem. Drinks and, all right, some light flirtation with the bartender wouldn’t solve it, either, but it would make my problem more distant.

  The vendor room, Denali, was full of black curtains blocking off spaces where the vendors presented their wares. It reminded me of a dark, somber version of an Arabian souk, saved from joylessness only by the colorful awnings and cardboard cutouts thronging the room. Banners bearing the names of companies I’d never heard of hung from black backdrops. I’d barely taken two steps into the room before I was accosted by someone selling accounting software. “Guaranteed compliant with your current system,” the man said, “just drop it atop whatever you’re using and bingo! You’re able to track magical deposits.”

  “I don’t do the accounting,” I said, and hurried on. Too bad Judy wasn’t here. She’d know whether the man’s product worked or not.

  The next person gave me a pen I accepted gingerly, remembering my reaction to the monocle, but it just had the name of his company embossed on it. The one after that had a couple of gorgeous women handing out flyers. I stopped paying attention after that, because my eye had been caught by a display whose name I knew very well. I drifted toward it, pulled by an inexorable tide.

  Campbell Security was one of the larger booths, staffed by eight people. One of those people reached up to straighten their banner, and my heart thudded painfully in my chest at how familiar he was. The next second revealed it wasn’t Malcolm: the dark-haired man was tall, but his face was longer and his shoulders narrower. But the shape of the eyes, and the nose…those were the same, and I wished Malcolm were there so badly tears pricked my eyes. I blinked them away and continued to approach, pretending they were any other vendor.

  “In the market for security for your node?” the lone woman said.

  “You provide security for Abernathy’s already,” I said.

  The tall, dark-haired man turned around and fixed me with an oh-so-familiar gaze. “Ms. Davies,” he said. “Ewan Campbell. I understand you’re friends with my brother.”

  “Mr. Campbell, it’s nice to meet you.” I wished I could say Malcolm’s mentioned you, but Malcolm never talked about his family and I had no idea how he felt about them, except I thought he didn’t get along with his mother very well.

  “Call me Ewan. I don’t suppose you’d like to give us a testimonial? Mal said you’d had an attempted break-in foiled by our alarm system.”

  It didn’t sound as if Malcolm had mentioned I’d set off the alarm system to save myself from my attacker. “I don’t mind. I feel safe in my home thanks to it.”

  “Perfect. Thanks. Terry, how about you give Ms. Davies one of those keychains?”

  I shied away. “It doesn’t have any illusion magic on it, does it?”

  “No, just a jolter. It’s a sample of our work.” Ewan took the keychain, which had what looked like a laser pointer attached to it, and aimed it at the table. “Point it at an assailant, squeeze the middle, and it delivers a jolt of electromagical energy that will shake someone up long enough for you to get away. Plus, it’s a flashlight if you press the button at the top.” He squeezed the thing, and the table rattled, knocking over a basket of pens.

  “Thanks. It’s interesting.”

  “Anything for one of our best customers.”

&nb
sp; I took a risk. “I don’t suppose…you’ve heard from Malcolm.”

  Ewan’s face went cold. “Not a word, and I’m not sure I want to, given how he’s treated our mother,” he said.

  “Oh.”

  “I’m sure he’s fine, wherever he is. Throw the man in a dumpster and he’ll come up covered in diamonds.” Ewan smiled, but it looked forced. “Anything else we can help you with?”

  “No, but thanks. Good luck.”

  Ewan was already turning away from me. I walked on, deep in thought. What had Malcolm done to his mother? All I knew was that Malcolm had had a girlfriend his mother liked more than he did, and I guessed Mrs. Campbell hadn’t been happy when he dumped her, but I didn’t know if that constituted poor treatment. It wasn’t as if he’d dumped his mother, after all.

  I visited a few more booths and collected some more tchotchkes, then headed upstairs around seven for a quick nap on the glorious bed. I could get used to luxury like this. As I drifted off, I wondered once again where Malcolm was. Probably not sleeping as luxuriously as I was.

  A knock on the suite door woke me about half an hour later. Carlos and Elisabeta stood expectantly outside, dressed for clubbing rather than business. “No, that will not do,” Elisabeta said when she saw me. “You must wear party clothes. Hurry, we will wait.”

  I invited them into the sitting room and retreated to my bedroom to change. I’d packed lightly, figuring I could always go home for anything I forgot, and now I dressed in an outfit Viv had picked for me, a fitted black dress with a short skirt and spaghetti straps under a rose-colored military-style twill jacket. I pulled on black ankle boots with a modest heel, brushed my hair free from its ponytail, and tucked my key card and phone into my jacket pocket. A little lip gloss, and I was ready to go.

  Carlos and Elisabeta clapped when they saw me, and I blushed and turned in a half-circle to make the jacket flare out. “That bartender, he will not care you have a boyfriend when he sees you,” Carlos said with a wink.

  “I think my boyfriend would care, though.” I wished Malcolm could see me, not just because his eyes would pop but because it would mean he was home.