A Hanging at Lotus Hall

by Corrina Lawson

  For certain, it meant the list writer had known her mother was a mage. But before her death or after?

  Again, roaring in her ears.

  Joan had pondered exactly when and how her mother first had the idea to create a golem powered by her husband’s soul. At first, Joan assumed her mother had found an old spell in one of her grandmother’s journals, as her grandmother had accepted magic as real even before it was widely known.

  After her mother’s death, Joan and Gregor had suspected some unknown mage had either put the golem idea into Rachel Krieger’s head or had even helped her create the golem. But without evidence, that remained a theory.

  Now Rachel Krieger appeared on this hidden list that had been in the possession of a powerful mage.

  A now-murdered mage.

  Joan recited a silent prayer in her mother’s memory. Had her mother regretted her actions? She’d not lived long enough to provide an answer.

  Perhaps Cooper could have supplied that answer. He too, however, was silent forever.

  She glanced over the other names. All prominent nobility. Too many questions to form a conclusion. This list might contain something as benevolent as the names of the peers who supported the Mage Reform Act.

  But then why was her mother on it and why had Cooper hidden it? And Jasper Sherringford had been dead for a decade.

  Her hand shook as she slipped the paper into her pocket.

  Mother, did you know them? Any of them?

  In Joan’s mind’s eye, her mother’s death played out again, as the golem released her father’s soul in a burst of energy that consumed his tormentor, turning Rachel Krieger into ashes.

  Gregor had shielded Joan from the mage energy. Physically, she’d been unscathed. But her memories of that day would remain forever.

  “Joan? You haven’t moved in several minutes. Did you find something?” Gregor called from the other room.

  She cleared her throat and wiped away the tears that had streamed down her cheeks. Damn her body, betraying her. “Yes, I’ll show you once I finish looking through the room.”

  Take hold of emotion. Fall apart and she’d be of no use to anyone. Start from the beginning. Assume nothing. She needed a sample of handwriting that was clearly Cooper’s, for comparison to the list. Gregor might find that in the desk.

  First, she searched through Cooper’s clothing, through every pocket and seam where paper or other items could be concealed, committing to memory a list of all the clothes Cooper had brought with him. Formal dinner wear, a thin coat suitable for walking in the gardens around Lotus Hall, several pairs of trousers for the daytime, shirts and their accompanying collars and stays. Nothing that seemed out of the ordinary save a heavy coat more suited to winter temperatures than the coolness of the fall. All were of the quality Joan would expect from a dean with no other source of income, though these must be his finest clothing.

  Her breath caught in her throat again as she read the coat’s hand-sewn label. Krieger & Sims. Her family business.

  Perhaps Cooper had known Rachel Krieger through his patronage of Krieger & Sims, though Joan’s father had run the haberdashery side of the business. Still, it was a solid connection, one to explore.

  Joan checked under the bed, the covers, and between the mattresses, as well as behind the wardrobe, but found nothing else. The water closet revealed the requisite shaving material. She set her hands on all four walls and searched for any safes or cubbies hidden by magic but felt nothing.

  “Are you finished yet?” Gregor called.

  “Yes.”

  “Come here and we will compare notes.”

  “In a moment.” She closed the doors of the wardrobe, to hide her search. The gears whirred again and the mechanism took over. The clothing-laden metal arms folded back inside the wardrobe. The bottom drawer containing the shoes retreated.

  The wardrobe closed with a final click.

  Joan found Gregor examining the desk. He’d flipped it over so its legs reached for the ceiling, like an overturned bug. The three drawers were stacked on the floor next to it. Several papers were tossed carelessly to the side, dismissed as unimportant.

  Despite herself, she smiled. Gregor left nothing to chance.

  “Help me unscrew this leg,” he said.

  She grasped the top of the upturned leg and twisted while he did the same at the bottom. The leg turned, though it took more force than Joan expected to remove it from the secretary. Once removed, Gregor peered inside it. “Aha.”

  He pulled a slip of rolled paper out of a hollow portion of the leg and held it flat on the floor. He spread it out.

  “That’s a map of the Isca School,” she noted.

  “The front page is, yes, but the second page appears to be blueprints of the dormitory.”

  “What does it mean?”

  “No idea, as yet.” He shook his head and finally looked at her. “What did you find?” He narrowed his eyes. “You’re pale. Are you well?”

  “No.”

  She drew the list out, her hands shaking, and handed it to Gregor. His eyebrows rose. He pursed his lips. He brought the paper close to his eyes to examine it carefully, turning it over several times.

  “I’m sorry, Joan,” he whispered.

  “I’d wanted the past behind me, but obviously, there’s more to my mother’s story, as we both thought.”

  He sighed. “On such matters, I hate being proven right.”

  She sat next to him, their shoulders touching.

  “I have to find out why she’s on this list,” she finally said. “Even if it has nothing to do with the murder.”

  “I agree, though chances are it does have something to do with the murder.”

  “Given how he’d hidden it, I agree.”

  “My theory was that your mother was helped by a trained mage to create so complicated a spell,” he said.

  “Was Samuel Cooper that mage, then?”

  “He knew something, hence this list, but whether he was investigating someone who might have helped her, helped her himself, or a third possibility, is an unknown.” He pulled a paper from the stack beside the upturned desk. “This has Cooper’s signature. Compare.”

  They held the papers next to each other. Her hopes plummeted. “It’s not Cooper’s handwriting.”

  “No, it’s not.” But a shadow crossed his face.

  “What is it?”

  “Nothing clear as yet.” Gregor set Cooper’s letter aside and clasped her hand. “I take it you’re unfamiliar with the rest of the names?”

  “I recognized your father and some nobility but none I know personally. I don’t even recognize them as patrons of Krieger and Sims.” A pause. “What do you make of the Metaphysical Society’s recruitment of me, then, in light of this list?”

  “I make nothing of it yet. It is suggestive, but a capital—”

  “—mistake to theorize without facts.” She stood. “Moriarty might know about this, but…”

  Gregor picked up the map and blueprints and regained his feet. “Obviously, this concerns the Isca School. Moriarty is the headmaster there and the last to see Cooper. We cannot confront him until we know more.”

  “I want to shove this list in his face and force the truth from him.”

  “So do I, more than you know. That time may come.” Gregor rolled the map and blueprints together and slipped them under his arm. “We’ll put the secretary back together. Then I need to hide these items and get properly dressed to greet the authorities.”

  “I thought you were indifferent to clothes,” she teased.

  “You’ve taught me the right clothes are needed to make the right impression, and I wish to intimidate these local officials. It’ll keep them out of the way. They are not equipped to handle magical crimes.”

  She smiled. “Gregor, you could intimidate someone in your pajamas.”

  He snorted. “Thank you, I think.”

  “What will you tell your brothers? And your mother?”

  “No
thing, until I have something definitive to report.”

  “I have a suggestion, after we dress,” she said.

  “Yes?”

  “We could enlist Sir August and his mage-sniffing talent to uncover unknown mages quietly, especially helpful if the killer is still here. We need to know for certain if Reginald Benedict is a mage.”

  Gregor’s eyebrows shot up. “Excellent thought. If only because we know Milverton doesn’t have the mage gift and thus cannot be our killer.”

  “And Milverton knows the truth of my family issues—”

  “—and might know if your mother was acquainted with Cooper or the others. But…keep the list secret. We need more data before trusting anyone.”

  She nodded. Desperate as she was for answers, right now, they could only trust each other fully.

  “Gregor, you suspect something about the handwriting on the list. What is it?”

  He shook his head. “Only that it seems similar to some I’ve seen before. Not now. We have to put the room back together.”

  “All right.” But she gritted her teeth. He suspected more than he’d say. That was his pattern. Still, it wouldn’t do to be caught in Cooper’s rooms.

  And, damn him, Gregor knew that.

  They put the desk back together.

  “Do you think Cooper was murdered because of these two pieces of paper?” she asked.

  “Possible. But…”

  Joan slammed the last drawer back in the desk. “Dammit, if only I’d seen what my mother was before…”

  “You saw enough to come to me, love,” Gregor said. “Let that go, I think.”

  “Easier said than done.”

  “Don’t let it cloud your mind. We have work to do yet.” He sighed. “I fear my brother won’t receive his quick solution. Nor I. This is going to get quite messy. Bad for the family. Whatever the truth of it, they’ll have scandal.”

  “But we might finally have answers about my mother.”

  Another dark look flashed across his face.

  She knew that look. “What are you keeping from me?”

  “That’s not—” He snapped to his feet. “Someone’s coming.”

  Chapter 12

  They rushed to a corner of the room. Gregor covered them with shadows as the door opened. She could see nothing at first, but then the darkness begun to filter in a fraction of light.

  That meant Gregor wanted to watch the intruder and was taking the chance that partial shadow and quiet would be enough. She peered through the edges of the void, a magical barrier similar to black crepe, until the figure in the sitting room became clear.

  Reginald Benedict.

  The American glanced around and, apparently satisfied he was alone, riffled through Cooper’s desk. Hah, she thought, they’d gotten here first. After a few moments, Reg muttered a curse and shoved back the documents he’d examined in the drawer. He pulled a magnifying glass from his pocket and examined the legs.

  “Hmm…” Reg said. “Bits of sawdust. Repairs?”

  Footsteps came from the corridor.

  “Dammit.” He slipped into Cooper’s bedroom.

  Moriarty entered the room. The veil of blackness thickened again. Gregor would take no chances of a mage like the headmaster seeing through the void. Her lover’s hand closed over her shoulder, a silent plea to stay silent but one she did not need. Moriarty would be livid if he knew they’d invaded the rooms.

  The hand on her shoulder tugged. Time to go. She laced her fingers with Gregor’s and allowed him to navigate in the dark. She knew they’d gone through a door and up the steps but not until he dropped the concealing shadows did she realize he’d brought them back to her room.

  “Cooper’s rooms were busier than a crowded London intersection.” She pulled open her curtains, letting morning light stream in. Nick had summoned them before dawn. Now the day was awake.

  After spending so long in Gregor’s void, she needed light and warmth. If only she could visit the underwater ballroom this morning, but she knew there would not be time.

  A man had been murdered. Gregor’s brothers were suspects. Bloody hell, his entire family was suspect. The image of Lady Anne, her eyes wide in remembered terror, came to Joan’s mind. And of Phyllis last night, cupping a mage light, her face full of anticipation at meeting Cooper.

  The murder would change many lives. Death always did.

  “Only Moriarty nominally had the right to be in Cooper’s rooms,” Gregor agreed, still clutching the blueprints and map in his hand.

  The list with her mother’s name was inside her skirt pocket. Only paper, but it felt like a slab of lead for all the emotional weight it carried.

  “What do you make of Reg searching Cooper’s desk?” Gregor asked.

  “Either Reg knew Cooper somehow or he was on an errand for Nick,” Joan answered. “Or he has an agenda of his own. Did he escape without Moriarty finding him out?”

  “Yes, he slipped out just before we did.” He sighed. “We must get an evaluation of Benedict’s mage gift from Milverton, post-haste.”

  “I thought we’d have more time before Moriarty was free. You told him to wait for the authorities with your brother.”

  “Which means they’re here now.”

  So soon. Time would be wasted going over details with them and convincing them not to interfere with Gregor’s investigation. “I take it that means there’s no time to search Benedict’s rooms?”

  “You read my mind, but no, not now.” He glanced at the rolled papers in his hands. “No time to look these over either.”

  They would have to act fast. That meant splitting up the tasks when she’d rather work with him. “I can approach Milverton. If everyone answers the call for breakfast, perhaps he can evaluate Reg there.”

  “Good.” He traced fingers over her face. “Joan, my instinct is that our killer is still here. And, unless it is an odd coincidence, they’ve tried to kill you once already. Be careful.”

  “I’m the last person you have to warn that family is dangerous,” she replied.

  It took little time to array herself as a professional woman, albeit one with a blouse and jacket that allowed more freedom of movement and that had pockets large enough to hold a small pistol. Magic was all well and good, but not all threats were magical. Joan took Gregor’s warning seriously.

  Agnes showed at Joan’s door to announce herself free and available for any help. It seemed the routine of Lotus Hall would go on, death or no. Joan asked for Agnes to lead her to the entrance foyer. She expected to find a gathering there, of some sort. And she remained on guard with Agnes, her hand over the pistol in her pocket. No way to tell, yet, who was an ally and who was an enemy.

  And, indeed, Joan was right about the crowd.

  As she descended the eastern stairs, she spotted Gregor, the duke, Lord Nicholas, and Moriarty engaged in conversation with three men she did not know. Two of them she judged to be the local police by the rough wool of their jackets and the creased state of their shoe leather.

  The third man, given his somber demeanor and the stethoscope wrapped around the brim of his hat, must be the coroner.

  An unobtrusive footman quietly supplied morning coffee to the group.

  Sir August Milverton, her one-time fiancé, stood to the side, quietly listening. He crossed the foyer to her, took her gloved hand, and kissed it.

  “Miss Krieger,” Sir August said. “Are you well with what has happened?”

  “Unfortunately, I’m too well acquainted with death to be unduly disturbed, and I also did not know Mr. Cooper well. That’s not true for others, sadly.” She studied him. Clothing perfectly tailored, shoes with an impeccable shine, no signs of wrinkles in his eyes. “You seem unaffected.”

  “I slept through it all, though, given how many are awake, I appear to be the only one who did.” He sighed. “This is not good for the Mage Reform Act. Cooper was a strong supporter and the duke was known to be delaying it.”

  “People will believe the d
uke did this thing over politics?” Surprise lit her voice.

  “Likely, given it was his home, and Moriarty and Cooper came to convince him to withdraw all opposition. That errand could not have been a secret and, even if it were, Moriarty will let out why Cooper was in attendance. The press will be all over the town, and soon, and trying to sneak onto the grounds. It will make a proper investigation difficult, if not impossible.”

  “We will find the killer,” Joan said.

  “Even if you do, they’ll call him a scapegoat for the duke.” Milverton shook his head. “This will cause civil unrest, Miss Krieger. A mage of the people murdered in the home of the most prominent mage of the ruling class. There will be calls for blood. It may well destabilize the government. That’s why I’m headed to London, now, to see if I can get ahead of this.”

  Milverton was not an alarmist. If he believed the public would conclude the duke had gotten away with murder, then that was a distinct possibility. Political destabilization as a motive for murder? Who gained from that?

  “What can you do in London?”

  “Fleet Street is sometimes malleable, and the supporters of the Mage Reform Act must be forewarned so they can respond properly.”

  “In that case, could you do me one favor before you go?”

  He clasped his hands behind his back. “Of course. I’m always at your service, Miss Krieger.”

  “Prettily said.” She glanced around the foyer once more. Reginald Benedict was not at Nick’s side, as she hoped and expected. “Dash it, I’d hoped this would be easy. Sir August, I must know if Reginald Benedict is a mage.”

  “And he’s not here for me to evaluate, hence your frustration.” But Milverton smiled. “I’m ahead of you. I evaluated him as we shook hands when we were first introduced. He has no trace of the mage gift.”

  Damn, Joan thought. Then what was he hiding? “You’re certain? There are devices that can cloak the mage gift.”

  “Like your necklace? Yes, I know. In that case, I sense a dampening presence. I can’t tell if the person has a strong or weak gift but I can tell that they’re using mage power to cloak themselves, and that is enough to know they’re a mage. Your Gregor is the only one immune to my gift. In any case, Mr. Benedict is fully human.” He glanced at Nick. “Which is not to say he’s not dangerous in his own way.”