by Sarah Noffke
“Well, the House isn’t satisfied unless they oversee all things, even ones they have no right to interfere with,” Mortimer answered. “But to answer your question, I’m not so sure. We’ve had no special regulations imposed on us for quite some time.”
“Do you remember the last time, and the circumstances surrounding it?”
He thought, winding the hair from his ear around his finger. “I can’t recall, honestly.” He looked at the mountain of paperwork around the desk. “It might be in one of these records, but I think we’re better off burning them all and starting over. Can’t find a damn thing in this place anymore.”
“Ummm, have you thought of having a brownie come in to help you organize and clean the place?”
Mortimer shot her a look of disbelief. “You can’t be serious? One of my brownies?”
“Well, their job is to clean, and I just thought—”
“Our job isn’t to clean.” Mortimer stood, his height not changing at all. “That is our passion. We do it out of love. Out of loyalty. It is my job to assign work and monitor it, and intervene when necessary, but cleaning is not part of a job. And how could I ask one of my loyal subjects to spend their energy on me when it isn’t me they worship, but rather the noble mortals who slave away all day at thankless jobs and drag themselves home to bed, usually too tired to clean the sink full of dishes. Oh, no, this is my mess, and therefore my responsibility. But alas, I’m too busy to do the job.”
Yeah, too busy, Liv thought, eyeing the ball sitting on his desk.
“Well, my house could use some help,” Liv stated. “Maybe a brownie will worship me.”
“You aren’t a mortal. Magicians don’t need our help because they can rely on their magic,” Mortimer said. “But your friend John is a nice fellow.” He picked up a piece of paper from the mess and read it silently for a second. “A noble fellow with strong moral convictions. Hard-working. Kind. Good to his employees.”
“Employee,” Liv corrected, surprised that Mortimer could find nothing in the office but had pulled that report straight from the desk.
“And he pets his dog first thing upon entering his dwelling,” Mortimer continued, reading from the paper.
“So John gets his house cleaned?” Liv asked. “I guess that’s at least something.”
“Well, I’m deciding whether his shop should be included. He has a brownie who is quite taken with him and would like to extend his services to include more.”
“Just as long as they don’t reorganize my tools,” Liv stated. “I have a system.”
“So, you, Liv Beaufont, Warrior of the House of Seven, aren’t here to force more rules upon me?”
Liv thought for a moment and then shrugged. “Let’s say I did and then I won’t.”
“What if your Council were to find out about this?”
“I’m pretty certain they just gave me the case to keep me out of their hair, but let’s pretend that you agreed. Once I leave here, you can operate as you were, and I’ll act the fool if they confront me about it.”
Mortimer took a seat again in his chair. “I’ve never met a Warrior such as yourself. You don’t seem to have any loyalty to the House.”
“Oh, I do. I just don’t see the point in useless regulations. Why is it our business how you do your job…I mean, fulfill your passion?”
“So how may I scratch your back, then?”
“There are a couple of things, actually,” Liv began, formulating different ideas in her head. “Brownies are in a position to see and hear a lot, correct?”
“Oh, yes. We are always in the shadows, unseen.”
“I thought so,” Liv said triumphantly. “I was hoping that you could spread the word to your brownies to have them watch out for a canister of magic.”
“Canister of magic, you say?”
“Yes. It went missing recently, and I’m not sure where it was sent.”
“And why do you think that it would be in a mortal’s possession?” Mortimer asked.
“I don’t,” Liv answered. “That’s just the thing. I have no idea where it might be. However, it can’t hurt to have your people keeping an eye out.”
“And in return, you will leave us alone and allow us to operate as we have?”
“Well, I might also have a few more favors to ask of you,” Liv hedged.
“Like what?” Mortimer snapped a piece of the brittle off and took a bite.
“Well, for instance, do you know why magic would be protecting a giant’s sword in a mortal-run museum?” Liv asked, deciding she had better trust Mortimer if she wanted more information. Even if he told anyone about her questions, she wasn’t sure what harm it would do. She was simply investigating.
“Mortals don’t have magic,” Mortimer finally stated after taking a long moment to chew. “It must have been magicians who put the wards on the sword.”
“That was my thought,” Liv said. “I just don’t understand why.”
Mortimer took another bite of the brittle, looking thoughtful. “I think there is much about this situation that you don’t understand. I’ll have my brownies keep out an eye for the canister and information on the sword and think more about it. Will that suffice for our agreement? It is getting on to nap time.”
Liv nodded, standing and hitting her head on the low ceiling. “Yes. I’ll be in touch with you to see if you find any information.”
Mortimer picked a piece of candy out of his yellow teeth. “No, it is we who will notify you.”
“How?” Liv asked.
“We brownies have our ways. Look for a message from us.”
Chapter Eleven
Everyone in the damn magical world was trying to make Liv crazy. Gone were the days where things were normal and she could look around John’s shop without constant paranoia. Since talking to Mortimer, she constantly looked around for a sign from the brownies that they’d found something or had information for her. A rolled-up candy wrapper sitting in a place she hadn’t remembered seeing one became cause to pace back and forth for an hour, wondering if she should revisit Roya Lane to speak with the Prime Minister of the brownies.
“I wonder if you’re being overly sensitive and overthinking the whole thing,” Plato said, stretching out on the workbench and rolling over to expose his belly.
“You think?” Liv replied, fidgeting with a computer monitor’s wires. She couldn’t figure out exactly what the problem was yet, even though she’d been studying it for the better part of an hour.
She was so engrossed in her work that she didn’t even look up when the door chimed, signaling that someone had entered.
“What are you doing?” Clark asked.
Liv looked up to find her brother with his hands pressed to his pinstriped slacks, his dragonhide cloak covering his shoulders.
“A better question is, what are you wearing?” Liv asked.
Clark looked down at his three-piece suit. “What do you mean?”
Liv waved her hand at him, the one with a small screwdriver in it. “You’re dressed like you’re going to the theater…in 1890.”
“Ha-ha,” Clark said with no inflection in his voice. “This is a perfectly decent way to dress in this day and age.”
“How many strange looks did you get on the street?” Liv asked.
“Mortals always look at me strangely,” Clark answered. “It’s because they are enamored of my regal appearance.”
“Yep, that’s it.”
Clark strode forward, careful to not brush against anything, that might damage his pressed suit. “What are you doing?”
Liv looked down at the monitor. “I’m trying to fix this hunk of junk.”
“Well, why don’t you use…” Clark looked around. “Well, you know.”
Liv nodded. “I’ve done that before. It doesn’t turn out well unless I know exactly what’s wrong with the device, so I’m trying to figure it out.”
Clark looked around at the shop. On the far wall, John had a collection of old cameras,
ones that dated back to before the turn of the last century. “I’m still at a loss for why you work. The House has started to pay you, right?”
“Yes, but doing a job is sometimes less about getting paid and more about fulfilling a responsibility.”
A smile surfaced on Clark’s face. “You sound like Dad.”
Liv bristled and opened her mouth to say something sarcastic, but nothing came to mind. Finally, she said, “Yeah, well, he was right when he said things like that. Actually, he was always right.”
Clark sighed. “You thought too highly of them.”
“How is that even possible? They were our parents.”
“Well, you can’t even consider that their deaths were an accident because you don’t see them as ever making a mistake. I’m not saying you’re wrong, not after what we’ve recently learned about the canister of magic, but you’ve got to have some objectivity.”
“Point to one person in the world who sees their parents objectively,” Liv demanded, thrusting the screwdriver into the screw’s slot with a bit more force than she intended. “From the beginning, they keep us alive. Through acts of selflessness and sacrifice, they teach us about love, and from our earliest memories, they are our heroes, saving us from the dark or a bad dream. Who are these people who look at their parents and see them as anything but extraordinary? Because if they have parents like ours and don’t revere them, there is something seriously wrong with them.”
Clark dared to flash Liv a rebellious smile. It made his usually conservative face look roguish. “For someone who likes to pretend she doesn’t care about family, I think you’re the most loyal of us all.”
Liv picked the screwdriver back up. “I am not.”
“You are too.”
“I am…not playing this game with you.”
Clark started pacing around the shop, looking the various devices over but never touching any of them. “So the canister… I keep trying to discreetly check for leads, but I haven’t found anything yet.”
Liv nodded, glad to have the subject changed. “Yeah, me too.”
“I also keep mulling over Reese’s words. Have you been able to make sense of them?” he asked.
Liv looked up absentmindedly, the words falling out of her mouth, rehearsed: “Olivia has the key. You have the heart. Together you must finish what we started.”
“Reese was always the poet and creative one, wasn’t she?” Clark said, fondness in his voice.
“Yes, but it wouldn’t have killed her to be literal this one time,” Liv said, and immediately regretted her choice of words. Clark’s face turned grave as he busied himself looking at an old rotary phone.
“I don’t get how I could have the key,” Liv said in a rush to cover her blunder. “And if anyone has less heart then it’s you.”
Clark shot her a punishing look over the shelf. “Hey, I’ve been working to keep the Councilors off your back. If it weren’t for me, those sessions at the House might be worse. They disapprove of your tactics, like how you handled the goblins, but I got them to see some of the good that might come out of shaking up our allies and making them realize who is in control.”
Liv shook her head. “It shouldn’t be about bullying. That’s the problem. The House has all these exceptions for goblins and gnomes or whatever. There is no fairness or balance. We’re supposed to serve justice, but all we do is enforce a bunch of arbitrary laws that we set up.”
“I’ve heard this speech of yours before,” Clark said, striding around the shelf and eyeing Plato, who was pretending to sleep beside Liv.
She tensed when the door at the back of the shop opened. That sound didn’t usually bring such a reaction, but she wasn’t usually in the presence of another magician. She looked around quickly as if trying to find a hiding place to stash Clark.
Pickles bolted through the open door to the back, running straight up to Clark and jumping on his leg, leaving behind dirty paw prints.
Her brother shooed the dog off, giving Liv an annoyed glare as he wiped his pants.
Any hope Liv had of getting her brother out of there unseen evaporated when John sauntered through the door, pausing at the sight of Clark. “Well, hello there, neighbor. Is Liv taking care of you?”
“Neighbor?” Clark asked, confused. “I actually don’t live in the neighborhood, and I was only coming by to—”
“This is my brother,” Liv said in a rush, surprising herself with her honesty. See, telling the truth wasn’t so hard. She’d just done it. “And he’s dressed like that because he’s an actor.” Her face filled with heat at the horrified expression Clark gave her. Okay, honesty was a process. She’d get there.
“B-b-brother?” John asked, looking between Liv and Clark. “You never mentioned having a brother.”
Clark shot her an expression that seemed to say, “shocking.”
“Yeah, he’s been away,” Liv said. “Traveling with his acting troupe.”
“Troupe?” Clark mouthed when John put his back to him.
She blushed.
“Oh, well, that’s exciting.” John offered Clark his hand, shaking the magician’s warmly. “Nice to meet you…”
“Clark,” her brother supplied.
“Nice to meet you, Clark,” John offered. “Any family of Liv’s is welcome here. Are you going to be staying with her?”
“Here?” Clark asked with disbelief, nearly laughing before covering his expression, urged by the look on Liv’s face. “And ummm, no. I live in Santa Monica. I was just stopping by to pay her a visit.”
“Oh, well, that’s sure nice of you,” John said, looking between Liv and Clark. “I bet it will be nice to catch up. There’s nothing quite like having family close by.”
“But not too close,” Liv said, chancing a rude glare at Clark when John wasn’t looking.
“Yes, I’ll try to stop by for lunch when I’m in the neighborhood,” Clark said.
“Sometimes I’m too busy to eat,” Liv stated.
John puffed out his cheeks and shook his head. “Now that’s nonsense, Liv. You’ve got to eat, and you’ve earned those lunch breaks. I daresay you don’t take as many breaks as you should. If a human resources representative came into the shop, they might cite me for being in violation of some people code.”
“There’s no such thing, John,” Liv said with a laugh, trying to change the subject. She didn’t know how she felt about her old world and her new world colliding like this. She was trying to protect John by not telling him about magic, but if her brother showed up regularly, it would become increasingly difficult. Clark didn’t look like a hipster hanging out in North Hollywood. With his chiseled face and strange clothes, he most assuredly looked like a magician, but she hoped that John wouldn’t figure that out.
“Well, I’ll leave you two to catch up,” John said, picking up Pickles and letting the dog lick his face. “I’ll be back this evening to help you close up, Liv.”
“Thanks,” she sang as the old man and the dog exited through the front.
“So, your boss doesn’t know a thing, does he?” Clark asked when they were alone again.
“I’ve heard it’s better that way,” Liv explained.
Clark nodded. “You’d be putting him in danger if he knew the truth about you. You might not yet, but soon you’ll have enemies. Every Warrior has them. It goes with the territory.”
Liv’s insides cramped. The idea of putting John and the shop in danger was a new stress she didn’t know how to deal with yet.
Reading the tension on her face, Clark said, “You could always move into the House of Seven. It’s safe there. You wouldn’t have to worry about any of this then. You wouldn’t have to worry about working here.”
Liv sighed. “I don’t worry about working. It’s what keeps me sane when the House of Seven is driving me crazy. But I don’t want anything to happen to John.”
“Well, then you’re going to have to be careful going forward,” Clark warned. “It’s only a matter of time befor
e you piss off someone in the magical community and they come after you. If they can’t find you, they usually go after those you love.”
Liv nearly bolted out of her seat, her emotions making her insides hop around. “This pep talk has been delightful. You’re a real ray of sunshine, brother. Let’s do this again soon, and by soon, I mean never again. I’ll come to you. Don’t come here.”
Clark regarded her dully for a long moment. “Okay, fine. But I’m here if you need help with any of this…mortal stuff.”
Liv wasn’t sure if she believed Clark, but he seemed sincere.
He rolled his shoulders, trying to release some tension. “Look, about the other stuff… I’m going to try to get closer to Adler and figure out if he’s involved in this canister business. Everything I’ve gathered so far suggests that he is.”
“So I shouldn’t be offended if you blow me off when I’m at the House of Seven, then?”
“You know that we have to play things carefully,” Clark said. “It’s better if it doesn’t look like we’re working together, or someone might get suspicious.”
“Well, what am I supposed to do in the meantime, while you’re stomaching the presence of that evil albino who lives to humiliate me in front of the others?”
“Work on figuring out what Reese was talking about,” Clark suggested. “If she says you have the key, figure out what that is and how to use it.”
Chapter Twelve
Before they’d even entered Rory’s house, Plato’s hair began to stand on end, making him look puffier than usual. Liv paused with her hand on the door handle.
“Ummm, is everything okay?” she asked him.
“No,” he replied, backing up on the porch. “I mean, yes. It’s fine, but I don’t think I can go in there today.”
Liv tensed. “Is Rory okay? Are you? What is it?”
Plato suddenly looked ill, nearly falling off the crumbling porch, his gaze pinned on the door ahead. “Nothing. It’s just that I’m sort of allergic to what Rory has in there.” The cat turned around and raced away, disappearing before he reached the sidewalk.
