by C. J. Archer
Willie breezed into the sitting room, took one look at me with Aunt Letitia's portable writing desk on my lap, and clicked her tongue in admonishment. "You working on a Saturday?"
"It's a miserable morning," I said, indicating the rain-splattered window. "And this isn't work. I enjoy learning about magic." It fulfilled me in a way that only tinkering with clocks and watches had in the past. Now that I no longer had ready access to broken timepieces, I found my restlessness soothed by memorizing Fabian's list of magic words and attempting to put them together to create new spells.
"Sounds like work to me." Willie slouched into a chair by the fire with a loud sigh. She sighed again when no one took any notice of her.
Matt lowered the corner of the newspaper. "Something wrong, Willie?"
"I'm bored."
"Already? You just got out of bed."
"And it's almost eleven," Aunt Letitia noted without looking up from the letter she was reading.
"I slept in because I got in late last night," Willie said.
Duke lowered the newspaper he was reading just as Matt raised his. "Were you with Brockwell?"
"Ain't none of your business who I was with."
Duke rolled his eyes and lifted the paper again.
"Fine, I'll tell you." Willie stretched her feet toward the fire. "I met a woman down by the docks—"
"The docks!" Duke cried at the same moment that Aunt Letitia said, "Spare us the vulgar details." She might accept Willie's inclination for both sexes but she didn't like discussing it.
Duke put the paper down on the table and regarded Willie with concern. "You do know those women ain't looking for love."
"Who says I'm looking for love?"
"The only thing you'll find there is disease."
Aunt Letitia made a sound of disgust. "Must we speak of these things?"
"What about the detective inspector?" I asked. "Are you two no longer a couple?"
"A couple?" Willie scoffed. "We were never that. We were just two people who like each other's company, once in a while. We still see each other some nights, but neither of us wants to make it something it ain't. We're happy."
She did seem rather happy with the arrangement. I wondered if Brockwell was too.
"Who wants to play poker?" Willie asked.
"Not me," I said, once again concentrating on the list of magic words.
"Duke?"
"I'm reading the paper," he said, picking it up.
"As am I," Matt added from behind his newspaper.
Miss Glass lifted her correspondence higher to hide her face and avoid looking at Willie altogether.
Willie crossed her arms over her chest. "I wish Cyclops was here. He'd play a few rounds with me. Is he at Catherine's shop again?"
"He left early this morning," I told her.
"That shop'll be as clean as a drunk's empty glass by now. He's been there every day for a week."
Ever since Catherine Mason had lied to extricate him from Charity Glass's trap, Cyclops had shown his appreciation by helping Catherine and her brother Ronnie set up their watch and clock shop. The shop had opened for business a few days ago, but Cyclops insisted on being there to clean, carry things, and assist in any way he could. Willie was right; there was no need for him to be there now that the shop was in order. Tomorrow it would be closed, being Sunday. I wondered if Cyclops would invent a reason to visit anyway.
Talk of the shop reminded me of the black marble clock now sitting proudly on the mantel in the sitting room. It had been on display for many years in the shop, losing time every day, despite both my father and I working on it. While I'd managed to get every other clock and watch working, that one had always eluded me.
I'd never spoken a spell into it, however, until bringing it home a few weeks ago. The spell my grandfather had taught me didn't fix the clock straight away, but speaking the spell in conjunction with my continued daily tinkering had finally worked. The clock had not lost a single second all week. The satisfaction I felt bordered on elation.
Raised voices drifted up to us from downstairs, but we couldn't make out the words. One of the voices was Bristow's. Matt lowered his newspaper and frowned, listening.
A loud clatter rose above the voices. It sounded like the silver salver crashing onto the tiled entrance hall floor. "Stop this instance!" Bristow shouted. "You can't go up there unannounced!"
Footsteps pounded on the stairs.
Matt, Duke and Willie shot to their feet and made for the door, but the intruder barreled through it, almost careening into them. He pulled up short, his chest heaving with the exertion of sprinting up the stairs. His gaze flew past Matt and the others and fell on me.
Aunt Letitia gasped and reached for my hand. I took it, my heart in my throat.
I recognized the man. He was a leather magician by the name of Bunn. The last time he'd come here, Bristow and Peter the footman had marched him out after I'd refused to use my magic to extend his. So why was he back, and desperate to speak to me?
Chapter 2
"What is the meaning of this?" Matt demanded.
Mr. Bunn finally seemed to see Matt, flanked by Duke and Willie. A formidable trio, even though Willie didn't have her gun on her. It was no wonder he swallowed heavily and glanced behind him. Bristow and Peter blocked the exit.
"I'm sorry, sir, I tried to stop him," Bristow said. A few strands of hair stood on end, and his jacket was bunched at the shoulders. For the usually impeccably turned out butler, he was positively disheveled.
"It's all right," Matt assured him. "The fault lies with this fellow." He squared up to Mr. Bunn. "I asked you a question," he growled.
Mr. Bunn's cheek twitched. He looked to be no more than twenty, but his blond curls could have made him seem younger than he was. With the bluster fading, he looked somewhat vulnerable.
"My name is Joseph Bunn. I'm a leather magician. I met Miss Steele a few months ago, here." He'd learned about horology magic and Chronos through Oscar Barratt's article and discovered the address of the magician's granddaughter through a combination of coincidences. No other magical craftsmen had sought me out since, and I had thought myself safe, forgotten. Clearly Mr. Bunn had not forgotten.
"It's Mrs. Glass now." I indicated Matt. "Mr. Glass and I are married."
Mr. Bunn removed his cap and crushed it in his hands. "Congratulations." He cleared his throat and addressed Matt. "I asked your wife to use her magic to extend mine so I could make fine leather shoes that last. She wouldn't do it then, but I thought I'd try again."
"You've wasted your time." Matt indicated the door, inviting Mr. Bunn to leave.
Mr. Bunn didn't move. "You see, I started the business and it's doing real well. Everyone likes my boots and shoes because the leather's so fine, and I sell 'em at reasonable prices while I get established." He spoke quickly, as if he realized Matt had a short fuse and he had to say everything before the spark reached the gunpowder. "But I had to borrow a lot of money to get started, and now I've got a large debt. I was hoping Mrs. Glass would take pity on a fellow magician and extend my magic to make the leather seem like new forever. Once I get a reputation for fine, durable boots…" His cheek twitched again with his tentative smile. "People from all over London—all over England!—will want a pair of my footwear. I ain't in a hurry, Mrs. Glass. I'm young and I can meet my repayments, for now, if things go along as they have been. People already know how good my work is, but if the magic could be extended, I'd be the best."
"Mr. Bunn, I admire your enthusiasm and entrepreneurial spirit," I said, "but my decision has not changed. I won't extend your magic."
His smile faded and his busy hands scrunched the cap tighter. "Why not?"
"Magicians already have an unfair advantage over artless craftsmen, but at least the magic doesn't last. It would be immoral of me to extend that advantage."
"How is it unfair when magic was given to me by God?"
"Don't bring God into this," Willie spat. "If He wanted you to u
se your magic to get ahead, He would have made your magic last forever and not fade away."
"But He gave Mrs. Glass that kind of magic."
"Let's leave religion out of this," I said. "The fact is, I won't be extending your magic. Please don't come here and ask again."
Mr. Bunn stepped toward me. "But—"
Matt grabbed his arm, and Duke grabbed the other. Willie blocked his way, hands on hips. Mr. Bunn struggled for a moment but must have realized it was pointless and stopped.
"I wasn't going to harm her," he muttered. "Just talk to her."
"What makes you think she will extend your magic now when she wouldn't last time?" Matt snapped.
"I've gone and set myself up," Mr. Bunn said. "I thought if I showed her I was making a go of it, and I could prove my business could be profitable within a few years, she'd see fit to help me."
"You've wasted your time," I said.
"And ours," Matt said. He and Duke hustled Mr. Bunn toward the door.
"I never told anyone else where to find you!" Mr. Bunn cried. "Not a single magician. I kept your secret, Mrs. Glass. Now you should help me."
"She doesn't have to do anything for you," Willie snapped.
"And if you tell a soul where to find her," Matt said, his voice like cold steel, "I will ruin your business and have your creditor call in your debt."
Mr. Bunn's eyes widened. "You! You sent me that letter!"
Matt's gaze narrowed. "What letter?"
"Threatening to ruin me."
"I haven't sent you a letter. I didn't know who you were until today."
"Tell us about the letter," I said, rising.
"It was from someone who threatened to ruin me, just like Mr. Glass did. It called me a cheat for using my magic to make my business successful."
It was just as Oscar mentioned. Successful magicians all over the city were receiving letters accusing them of cheating. It was no surprise that Mr. Bunn had been one of the recipients if what he said was true and he'd built a solid business in such a short time.
"Do you have the letter still?" I asked.
"I threw it away." He looked up at Matt. "You didn't send it?"
"I have better things to do. Not to mention I'm married to a magician," Matt said. "I have no reason to send you or anyone else threatening letters. Unless you harass my wife again."
Mr. Bunn's lips twisted. "So what am I supposed to do?"
"Continue to make excellent quality shoes and boots," I said. "Just as you are now."
"That ain't enough! The quality quickly fades. How will I get ahead?"
"Through hard work," Willie said.
"That could take years!"
"There ain't no shortcuts in life."
Mr. Bunn didn't offer resistance when Matt and Duke marched him out of the sitting room. Peter followed, but Bristow remained behind.
"Can I get you anything, madam?" he asked.
"No, thank you."
"I want to apologize again for allowing that fellow to get past me."
"It's all right, Bristow. It's not your fault."
"Maybe you should get him a gun, India," Willie said as Bristow bowed out. "What do you think, Letty?"
I'd forgotten about Aunt Letitia. I turned to her when she didn't answer Willie and drew in a sharp breath. She was smiling at me with childlike innocence.
"Veronica, is Harry home?" she asked. "I'm sure I heard his voice. Go and tell him to come here." Her face darkened and her lips formed a pout. "Father has been horrid to me again, and Richard too. Our brother always takes Father's side, but Harry always takes mine, bless him."
I eyed Willie, and together we gently assisted Aunt Letitia to her feet. "Why don't I take you to him," I said.
I helped her to her room while Willie fetched Polly to sit with her while she rested. It had been some time since she'd taken a turn, and I'd begun to hope she was getting better. But the shock of Mr. Bunn's intrusion, and the subsequent confrontation, must have caused her mind to slip into the past where she thought I was her old maid, Veronica, and Matt was his father.
Matt, Duke and Willie were waiting for me when I returned to the sitting room. "How is she?" Matt asked.
"Confused but she agreed to rest." I sat with sigh. "What a strange morning."
Matt rubbed my shoulder. "I don't think Bunn will cause any more problems."
"I should have flashed my Colt," Willie said. "That'd make sure he never came back."
"You should have told him your lover is a detective inspector with Scotland Yard," Duke said. "I reckon that would have worked better."
"She wouldn't use Brockwell like that," I said.
Willie blinked at me. "Course I would, if I thought it would work. But Matt's threat did the trick." She eyed the door through which Mr. Bunn had left. "Although the lad's got the courage and stupidity of youth, so who knows."
"I wonder if the person who wrote those letters will follow through on their threat to ruin Bunn and the other magicians," I said.
Matt sat beside me and took my hand. "It would be easy to do. If their guilds find out they're magicians, their memberships and licenses would be revoked."
If they had no license, they couldn't sell their products. It was an archaic system that worked to keep magicians out. It was why so many magicians had hidden their magic and the art had been all but forgotten by most. It was why my parents never told me about my lineage, although those in The Watchmaker's Guild had suspected magic flowed through my veins. The guilds wielded enormous power, and that made me uneasy.
Cyclops returned after lunch and we spent a leisurely afternoon indoors as the rain continued to fall outside. With Willie snoring in an armchair, I retreated to the library to continue my studies. I found Matt there, reading, and we snuggled together before I got up to sit at the table with my notes.
An hour later, he closed his book and joined me. "Did Bunn's visit rattle you?" he asked.
"A little." I gave him a flat smile. "But I'm all right. I think you scared him off for good."
"I hope so." He perched on the edge of the desk and eyed me closely.
"What is it?" I prompted. "Come on, out with it."
"Am I that easy to read?"
I grinned. "Always."
He grunted. "I was wondering if you were tempted to help him."
"Not at all." I turned to face him fully. "I can't believe you had to ask me that."
"You might be able to read me, but I can't always read you, especially when it comes to your opinions on magic."
I touched his knee. "I was never tempted to help him. The only magic I will ever extend is Gabe's when you need it."
His hand closed over mine and he leaned down to kiss me. It was light and sweet and filled with promise and love. If I ever doubted I was cherished, he only needed to kiss me like that and my doubts fled.
He pulled up a chair and sat next to me. "What about the new spells you create with Fabian?"
"I can't foresee a reason to use the extension spell in our experiments."
"Have you settled on a spell to try first?"
"Making a watch fly."
"You can already do that."
"Not consciously." My watches sometimes saved my life by wrapping their chains around my attackers' necks or wrists. A clock had also once flown off the mantel and hit an assailant on the head. But I couldn't make them do it on purpose or control their flight path. "Fabian can not only make iron fly, he can also direct it. Mr. Hendry can do the same thing with paper, to a limited extent, and Oscar with his ink words. We've already tried combining Fabian's spell with my watch one but it didn't work. We're going to try to change it a little."
"What about Hendry's spell?"
"What about it?"
"Did you use the words you remember from it on your watch?"
"I don't remember any." Try as I might, I simply couldn't recall the words he'd spoken to fling papers and cards at me. I'd been too filled with panic at the time.
"I can remembe
r two from the first time he used the spell," Matt said. "I wasn't there when he unleashed a houseful of papers on you in the entrance hall that second time, but Willie was. Have you asked her?"
"I'll rouse her now."
He took my hand before I could run off. "Not yet." He tugged me closer. "You know what she's like when you interrupt her naps."
I circled my arms around his neck and lightly nipped his lips with mine. "What shall we do to pass the time until she wakes?"
I felt him smile. "I can think of a few things."
Willie turned out to be just as bad as me at remembering Mr. Hendry's magical words. "How would I know?" she cried when we asked her after she awoke from her nap. "I was too busy trying not to get my throat sliced open."
"Death by paper cut," Duke said with a chuckle as he reached for a piece of sponge cake.
Willie slapped his hand away. "It ain't funny."
"Agreed," Matt said.
"Sorry," Duke muttered, eyeing Willie as he went in for the cake again.
"Do the words Matt remembers match any of the words from Charbonneau's flying iron spell?" Cyclops asked.
I handed him my notepad. "Only one," I said pointing to a nine-letter word. "The other is different. When I see Fabian again on Monday, we'll see if it can be slotted into his spell. If that doesn't work on my watch, we'll try a few others from this list that don't have a use or meaning attributed to them yet."
"What'll you do once you make your watch fly?" he asked, reaching for another slice of cake.
"Make something else fly."
Willie clicked her fingers, her face alight with enthusiasm. "A magic carpet, like in that Arabian Nights story."
"Professor Nash thinks they're not just stories," I said. "He thinks magicians from long ago used to make carpets fly all the time."
"Chronos believes so too," Matt pointed out.
"Won't you need a wool magician for that?" Duke asked.
I nodded. "Which is why one of our first spells won't be for a flying carpet. We don't know any wool magicians."
"You can always seek out Bunn and try the spell with leather," Willie said. "He could make you a flying cowhide carpet."
