by Lucy March
The man just stood there, unstable on his feet, his eyes glassy and unfocused. He had a full dark beard shot with a few touches of silver, which seemed premature, since he looked to be mid-thirties at the most. His clothes were new; as a matter of fact, the size sticker on his cheap jeans was still stuck to his thigh; he wore a 34 x 32. His shoulders were broad, but slumped, and he squinted as though he’d just stepped into the sun from a dark place.
“Who are you?” I said, but the second I said it, I knew. My heart started pounding in my chest, and I stepped out onto the porch to look around, to see if there was a trace of whoever had dumped him on my porch.
“Oh, Jesus,” I said, and put my arm around Tobias’s waist as I led him into my house. “It’s okay. Everything’s okay. Can I get you some water?”
I led him to the couch, sitting him where I had been a few moments before. Seamus moved out of the way just in time, and then sniffed at Tobias’s leg as I sat on the coffee table in front of him.
“Tobias? I need you to look at me, okay?”
I pulled my phone out of my pocket, hit the flashlight button that turned on the flash by the camera lens, and pointed it at his eyes. He shrank away from me, but I put my hand gently on his face to keep him from turning away.
“I just need to see,” I said, but he couldn’t stand the brightness enough to keep from squinting his eyes. I turned off the flash and hit Desmond’s number, trying not to think about what it meant that Tobias had been so unceremoniously deposited on my doorstep.
“Eliot?” Desmond’s voice came crisply through the phone. Wherever he was, it was too quiet to be Happy Larry’s.
“Desmond, I need you to come over, right now. Bring your magical emergency kit.”
“What’s happened?”
I hung up on him and dialed Stacy Easter’s number, grateful that Addie had come into Happy Larry’s during the week and programmed the essential Nodaway Falls magical phone book into my phone. While it rang, Seamus put his head on Tobias’s lap and set it there, and Tobias just stared at me. Well, less at me than at a spot somewhere over and past my left shoulder. I reached out and touched his hand. “It’s going to be okay.”
“Hello?” A man’s voice answered Stacy’s phone; I assumed it was the much-talked-about boyfriend, Leo.
“Is Stacy there?”
“She’s out back. Who’s this?”
“I’m Eliot. I’m new in town.”
“Eliot? I’ve heard about you.” There was a pause, indicating that what he’d heard probably hadn’t been great.
“Leo, I need you to get Stacy, and the two of you need to bring Liv to my house, right now, okay? Don’t let her come alone.”
There was a moment of taut silence, and Leo said, “Is everything okay?”
I hope so, I thought, but all I said was, “Now,” and hung up, and then, because there was nothing left for me to do, I waited, with my thoughts circling around me like debris in a cyclone. Tobias had been returned, which was good news, but I didn’t know what it meant. My father had gotten Tobias freed from wherever he was, which was what I’d asked him to do. He’d kept his word, so there was that. It had happened pretty quickly, though, which confirmed my suspicions that Emerson had had something to do with Tobias’s disappearance in the first place, and judging by Tobias’s appearance, wherever he’d been hadn’t been the Ritz. If Tobias had simply been pulled out of Nodaway Falls by ASF and been assigned somewhere else, I doubted they’d just send him back immediately; it would be weeks to extract him from his assignment and replace him, not days. Then again, in the magical world, when Emerson Streat made a phone call …
“Oh, god.” I put my hand to my forehead, as if that would stop my thoughts from spinning out of control. The fact was, there were no sure conclusions to draw from any of it, not until Tobias could tell us where he’d been and what had happened. I took Tobias’s hand in mine.
“It’s going to be okay,” I said, although I wasn’t sure who I was trying to convince, him or me. Didn’t much matter; either way, I was being disingenuously optimistic, and he didn’t seem to be listening, anyway.
There was a quick knock at the door, but before I could get up to answer it, Desmond was already inside.
“Eliot?” he said, his voice taut. He rushed over to me, and froze once he came around the couch and saw who was sitting there. The stark worry on his face subsided, and with work to be done, he was all business. He snapped a finger in front of Seamus’s nose, and Seamus jumped down off the couch. Desmond sat where Seamus had been and put his hand on Tobias’s shoulder. “What happened?”
“He just knocked on the door, and he was like this.”
Desmond set his briefcase down next to Tobias and flicked it open. “When?”
“I called you the second I got him to the couch. He’s disoriented, sensitive to light, I was worried that maybe he’d been given…” I stopped. This was no time to be coy. “There’s a memory potion the agencies used to use a lot. I can’t remember everything that’s in it, but I think it had something called…” I closed my eyes and tried to remember. “I want to say beets … stock? Something like that?”
“Bayatsah tsvyetok?” he said quickly, and looked at me for my response.
I shrugged, frustrated. “Gesundheit. I don’t know what you just said.”
“Bayatsah tsvyetok,” he said again, a little slower. “It’s Russian. Is that what he used?”
“Yeah … maybe. I don’t know. It was a long time ago. What is it? Is it yellow, ugly, kinda weedy-looking?”
Desmond sighed. “Yes. So are about twelve other things. I can’t counteract anything if I don’t know for certain what he’s been given. You suspect your father had something to do with this?”
Guilt stabbed through me, even though I knew none of this was my doing or my fault. “He wanted to know what he could do to prove himself to me. I told him to send Tobias back to Liv. It was all I could think of.”
Desmond watched me for a moment, and I could see gears churning madly behind his eyes, but I had no idea what they were coming up with. Before I could ask, there was another knock on the door. Desmond stood up, on alert, and I put my hand on his shoulder.
“I called Stacy and told her to bring Liv,” I said.
He looked at Tobias, and then at me. “Bugger.”
“I had to call her.”
He nodded, his expression contrite. “Of course you did,” he said, and nodded toward the door.
I walked over and turned the knob. Liv’s hair was wet; she must have been in the shower when Stacy came to get her. Behind Liv, Stacy stood with her arms crossed over her stomach, and a tall man with messy brown hair, a crooked nose, and wide, kind eyes stood with his arm around Stacy’s waist. I took him to be Leo.
“Hi,” I said.
“Are you okay?” Liv reached out and touched my arm. “Stacy said you needed to see me?”
I stepped back to let her in. She moved inside, looking confused. She said, “Hello, Desmond,” with a question in her voice, and then she froze. A sound caught in her throat and she looked at me, and I said, “He just showed up on my doorstep.” Liv’s eyes filled with tears and I added, “He’s a little disoriented,” which was the understatement of the year, but when she moved closer and said, “Tobias?” he turned his head toward her, just a little. I looked at Stacy and Leo, both of them staring at me, a thousand questions in their eyes, but all I could say was, “I don’t know.”
Seamus had relocated to the love seat in the corner, and I shoved him over and sat down next to him, trying to disappear into the scenery as Liv sat down next to Tobias. I felt voyeuristic, but I couldn’t look away, either. She didn’t touch him immediately, just stared at him wide-eyed, tears absently dropping from her lashes. She looked as if she was afraid that it was all an illusion, and that if she touched him, he’d disappear.
“Tobias?” she said again, her voice cracking in a million places, and he turned to look at her. His eyes seemed unable to focus
, but he was trying.
She was bringing him back.
She reached out and touched his face, laughing a sad laugh through her tears. “You have a beard.” She sniffed, and ran her hand through his hair. “I’ve never seen you with a beard.”
His eyes squinted a bit as he looked at her, the way they’d squinted in the sun earlier.
“Liv?” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper.
Liv nodded and burst into violent, shaking tears. Tobias reached out for her as best he could and she fell into his arms. Desmond, who had been standing quietly by the wall, stepped forward.
“Liv, I think maybe Tobias should lie down.”
Desmond glanced at me for permission. I nodded, and he led both Tobias and Liv down the hallway to my room. I grabbed Seamus’s collar and walked him over to where Stacy and Leo were standing. Stacy’s eyes were red-rimmed; Leo’s were dry but harried-looking, and his grip around Stacy’s waist was visibly tight.
“Um,” I said in low tones, uncomfortable with speaking at full volume. “You’re a conjurer, too, right?”
Stacy said, “Yes,” and at the same time Leo said, warily, “In training.”
I got right down to it. “Between you and Desmond, you should be able to help him. I don’t know what he was given, but he probably shouldn’t go anywhere today, and he definitely shouldn’t go to a hospital. We’re not sure what he’s got in his system, and hospitals can make this sort of thing worse. He needs rest. He and Liv can have my bed. You guys can have the couch and love seat, if you want. I’ll sleep…” I motioned vaguely in the direction of my truck parked outside. “Somewhere.”
I started toward the door, but Stacy’s hand came down in a firm clamp on my arm.
“Wait a minute,” she said. “You’re not going anywhere, Eliot.”
“Stace,” Leo said, but she didn’t take her eyes off me.
“You come to town, tell us you’re the magical daughter of an evil agency dude, and suddenly Tobias shows up on your doorstep? Is that all supposed to be coincidence?”
I pulled my arm out of her grip and stepped a little closer to her, letting her know that she wasn’t going to intimidate me.
“You think I did this?”
“I think you know something about it, yeah,” Stacy said. “And if you think I’m letting you out of my sight, you’ve got another think coming.”
A strong, British voice came from the hallway. “Leave her alone, Stacy.”
Stacy looked over at Desmond, but I kept my eyes on her. After being clocked by Amber Dorsey the other day, no way was I turning my back on another unpredictable chick from Nodaway Falls.
“Oh, so, what? I’m supposed to trust you now, Des?”
Leo visibly tensed as Desmond walked over to us, the muscles in his arm going taut as he pressed his hand protectively against Stacy’s hip. It looked like it was all he could do to not hit Desmond, and when Desmond moved closer, Leo twitched for a moment, as if holding back a swing.
“I’m pretty sure it’s bayatsah tsvyetok,” Desmond told them coolly, seemingly undisturbed by their palpable hatred of him. “Some of his memory will just be gone, there’s nothing we can do about that. He’ll be sensitive to light for a while. But if we can get the counterpotion fast enough, he shouldn’t lose much more than a few months. Maybe a year.”
The color drained from Stacy’s face. “A year? Of his memory?”
“A few months, if we act quickly,” Desmond said. “And you can thank Eliot. She suggested it, and I have reason to believe she’s right.”
Stacy glanced at me, looking like she had absolutely no intention of thanking me for anything.
Desmond went on. “Would you like the recipe, or shall I make the counterpotion?”
Stacy’s eyes narrowed, and she said, “Give me the recipe.”
“You make it,” Leo said over her, and he met Desmond’s eyes. He didn’t like Desmond, that much was obvious, but he seemed to respect him.
“Leo,” Stacy said, and Leo looked down at her, his expression instantly softening.
“You told me emotions mess with the process,” he said, “and you’re full up on emotion right now. Desmond…” He looked up at Desmond, obviously not liking what he saw. “Desmond doesn’t have that problem, do you, Des?”
The icy expression Stacy held when Desmond had been talking warmed instantly as she looked at Leo. “Look, they say emotions mess with the process, but—”
“They say it because it’s true,” Desmond said, his voice calm and direct. “Now we can argue or we can help Tobias, but we don’t have time for both. I agree with Leo, it should be me, but if you don’t trust what I’ll bring back to you, then you do it. Either way, someone needs to take action. Now.”
“Go,” Leo said, and before Stacy could argue, Desmond had his hand on the small of my back, leading me and Seamus out the door.
“You’ll come with me,” he said, not asking. He opened the back door of his silver sedan and snapped his fingers in front of Seamus’s face. Seamus instantly hopped inside.
“How the hell do you do that?” I asked, staring in amazement as Desmond got in the driver’s side, but he didn’t answer, so I got in and rode with him in silence to his place.
*
Desmond lived a little farther outside of town than I did, still within walking distance of the village, but it was far enough to be full-on rural. The roads out this way were as much dirt as pavement, and the only neighbor I could see was a red farmhouse so far in the distance that I couldn’t even tell if anyone actually lived there. We turned onto his driveway, which was newly paved and led through a copse of trees to a small clearing where his house, a small, contemporary structure, sat.
“You know, living out here probably doesn’t do much to combat the impression that you’re a bad guy,” I said as I got out of the car. “I can think of a few Bond villains who might go for this place.”
Desmond was halfway into the house by the time I shut the passenger-side door; I was pretty sure he hadn’t even heard me. Which was just as well. I opened the back door for Seamus and he ambled out, then followed me down the step-stone path that led to the front door, which Desmond had left wide open.
The house was fairly new, and extremely well kept. It was a simple, open layout, with wood walls and exposed beams and huge windows that showed off the heavily treed property. I shut the door behind Seamus and took off my shoes; this was the kind of pristinely kept space that made you super conscious of any dirt you might track in. I padded past the kitchen area—stainless steel appliances, quartz countertops, everything in gleaming neutral tones—to the living room, where a cream-colored rug covered the walnut-colored floor between a living room set of an overstuffed, latte-colored couch and matching love seat that stared each other down over a simple, dark wood coffee table. It looked like no one had ever actually sat on the couch, which I could believe. The river-stone fireplace had three fresh logs sitting in it, and it didn’t look as though a fire had ever been lit in it. Next to the fireplace was an open wood-slatted staircase that led up to what appeared to be a loft bedroom. Apparently, Desmond’s magical lab was downstairs, because I could hear occasional sounds coming from the open door at the other side of the kitchen, but I didn’t go over there. Desmond had important work to do, and I wasn’t going to distract him. Seamus sniffed around for a while and then jumped up onto the love seat, ignoring me when I said, “Seamus, no!” but then, I thought, What the hell? It was a nice love seat. Someone should sit in it.
I couldn’t sit. I felt nervous, twitchy, worried. Desmond’s house felt like a safe haven, but I knew I wouldn’t be there for long, that eventually I’d have to face the reality that was waiting for me. I snooped through his refrigerator and pantry, finding nothing but healthy snacks and a single container of yogurt past the expiration date. No wonder he was so thin. I wandered around the living room a bit, and saw a hardcover book sitting on the bottom shelf of an end table. I sat down on the couch and pulled
it out. It was an old hardcover book, and I smiled as I read the title: Witness to My Life: The Letters of Jean-Paul Sartre to Simone de Beauvoir, 1926–1939. Tucked inside the cover was a library receipt from the Henrietta Comstock Community Library, dated the day after we’d first met at Happy Larry’s.
I sat with the book in my hands for a while, staring down at it. It was the same version I’d read years earlier. Possibly, it was the only printing they’d ever done of it. It felt odd and intimate, holding that book. I wondered what he thought of it, and how he’d feel if he knew I’d seen it, an obvious indicator that he’d been thinking about me in the time since we first spoke. In the end, I decided to put it back exactly where I’d found it and went upstairs to check out his loft bedroom.
Hey, if he didn’t want people to snoop, he should have gotten a television.
The bedroom, at least, looked like it had been used. The sleek platform bed was covered by a fluffy white duvet and sat under a slanted roof, more window than anything else, and while the bed was neatly made, the pillows at least had dents in them. There was an en suite bathroom that was cleaner than my kitchen, with the exception of a tiny clump of blue toothpaste in the sink basin, which I was inexplicably gratified to see. Proof the man was human, I guess.
I walked back out into the bedroom and stood there for a while, staring at the bed. It looked so soft, and it had been a hell of a day. A gentle rain had started up, pattering on the windows over the bed, and I took that as a sign that the gods obviously wanted me to rest, so I flipped back the duvet to reveal sleek silver-blue sheets and crawled inside. The bed smelled like Desmond, a combination of Ivory soap and man, and as my body sank into the mattress, I had only time to moan, “Ohhhhh, Tempurpedic,” before falling into a soft comfort coma.
Chapter 9
It was dark when I woke up, and it took me a moment to remember where I was. When I did, I shot up, horrified to realize that I had drooled a bit on my hand … and on Desmond’s pillow. Oh, god. I hopped out of the bed and quickly flipped the pillow over and pulled the covers back up before I padded down the steps. When I got to the living room, I saw that Seamus was still sleeping on the love seat but the door that led to the secret lab downstairs was closed. I was trying to decide if Desmond had known I’d fallen asleep in his bed when the front door opened and he stepped in, mildly damp from the rain outside.
