CHAPTER 13
ALVIE OPENED A SECOND box on the island in the center of Mg. Praff’s lab. Today they were bringing supplies to the Woosley Hospital to fulfill a special order from the coordinator of staff. The adhesive bandages and canisters for storage carried no enchantment, but in addition to those, Mg. Praff had created a variety of casts that could be formed to any broken limb, making the work of bodily mending a much smoother process. She added syringes that would fill to the desired, spoken amount without bubbles, as well as vinyl sheets that would fit any mattress, specially treated to prevent tearing.
“I’ll show you the difference between transferable and nontransferable vacuum-forming when we return. You’d be surprised how many people want to purchase vacuum-forming spells for food preservation.” Mg. Praff set a thin strip of transparent plastic over the top of the already-filled box and commanded it, “Adhere.” Alvie finished the second box and got a strip of her own, repeating the spell to seal it.
Two footmen came in to carry the boxes out to the automobile, where the chauffeur awaited them. Alvie and Mg. Praff followed, but as the footmen strapped in the boxes, Mr. Hemsley came out of the manor with the announcement, “Miss Brechenmacher, the mirror is for you.”
“Me?” Alvie asked. Her parents hadn’t said they’d be calling today. It was always a challenge when they did—the Gaffing magic that allowed communication between mirrors couldn’t stretch all the way from Columbus to London, so it had to be bounced about other mirrors across the Atlantic, which resulted in blurry images and garbled sound. Still, it was faster than a letter. She usually spoke to her parents once a week, on Sunday afternoons. Today was Friday.
Mg. Praff said, “Thank you, Hemsley. Go on, Alvie. We’re in no hurry. I need to check that we didn’t leave the polymery unlocked, besides.”
Alvie nodded and scurried past the ever-frowning butler to the house. She waved to Emma, who had been watching the loading through the window, and hurried down the main hall into the salon. Sure enough, the oval mirror in the far corner shimmered with magic. It was not her parents’ blurred faces that filled it, however, but Bennet’s crisp one.
“Oh!” She quickened her step, subsequently tripping over the back of her own heel.
“Alvie?” the mirror asked. Fortunately, Alvie didn’t think Bennet could see all the way to the salon door.
“Here, here, coming!” She picked herself up and walked to the mirror at a safer pace. “You didn’t say you’d be calling.” She hadn’t gotten a bird from him in four days, as a matter of fact. She had begun worrying that Ethel’s encouragement had been misplaced.
Bennet rubbed the back of his head. “Yes, sorry. I’ve a knack for just showing up, don’t I?”
“I don’t mind at all!” She cringed at the excitement in her own voice. Easy, Alvie. “But the butler probably does.”
Good job, Alvie.
“Oh, sorry.”
“Oh no, he just minds everything. Don’t worry about him.”
A small smile brushed Bennet’s lips. “I know the type, believe me. In fact, I don’t have long to use this mirror, so I’ll get to the point. I was wondering if you were going home for Christmas.”
She nodded. “I’m leaving on the fifteenth. Until . . . well, I’m departing from the States late on the second, so with the time change, it might be the third . . .”
“The fifteenth,” he repeated with a nod. “Going back the way you came? The station?”
“Well, yes.”
“Would you mind an escort?” He shifted, as if he was wrestling with his hands or the like, though the mirror cut off too high for her to see for sure. “That is, you’re quite capable.”
Alvie didn’t realize she was smiling until her cheeks began to ache. “I did get lost.”
“Not of your own volition.”
“I would very much like an escort. Even without the Benz.”
Bennet let out a breath. She wondered at that. “Excellent. I’ll speak to Magician Bailey . . . we’ve been terribly busy. The holidays demand every paper decoration you can imagine. Magician Bailey generally works in textbooks, but there’s a shortage of Folders. I figure I need the practice as well. I can Fold twenty-one types of stars . . . doubt that will be on the test, though.”
Alvie’s lips formed an O. “I’m sure they’re lovely. My parents get the chains—the ones that unravel themselves as they count down to Christmas.”
“Ah yes. Those are fairly simple.”
“Do you have the test questions yet?”
A new voice sounded in the distance of Bennet’s mirror. “Bennet!” The sharp words were garbled, but she heard how the invective ended: “—and the delivery!”
Alvie frowned. “Is that Magician Bailey?”
He ran a hand back through his sunshine hair. “Yes. He’s . . . stressed. I should go.”
Alvie offered a heartening smile. At least, she tried to make it heartening. “I’ll see you on the fifteenth, then. I’m taking the one o’clock train.”
Bennet nodded. “I’ll arrive early.”
His hand moved outside of the frame, and the vision of him rippled silver until Alvie stared only at her own reflection.
Woosley Hospital’s delivery entrance was located at the back of the old building. A narrow road ran past it, and an ambulance blocked part of it coming south, so Fred circled around the adjacent block until he could find a decent parking space not terribly far from the hospital.
“We’ll be just a moment, Fred.” Mg. Praff slipped out of the vehicle and circled back to the rear, and Alvie slid across the bench to follow. Another automobile, one of the older models, passed by as he went, splashing through a puddle from a recent rainfall. Muddy droplets sprayed the door and Alvie’s shoes, as well as the hem of Mg. Praff’s slacks.
She stuck her tongue out at the offending vehicle. “Rude.”
Fred turned around in his seat. “That one’s been behind us since Mayfair.”
“Really?” Alvie asked. The same one? She wondered where they were headed.
The chauffeur nodded. “Even around the block.” The automobile in question turned onto the next adjoining road, out of sight.
Alvie stepped gingerly onto the road and took one of the boxes from Mg. Praff, though her eyes were on the street ahead of them. The box was light, another benefit of plastic.
As Mg. Praff led the way down the street, Alvie asked, “Why isn’t the demand for Polymakers higher? Plastic is lighter and more durable than glass, and it seems it could replace a great deal of metal—machine parts, maybe. Silverware.”
Mg. Praff laughed. “Plastic silverware?”
“Plasticware. Why not?”
“I think the demand for plastic will increase as time goes on, and as we continue to prove ourselves useful. And not just materials from Polymakers. Many of the things you’re talking about can be fashioned by regular people. Perhaps, one day, in factories.”
They turned a corner. Alvie stepped in a puddle she hadn’t seen thanks to the large box in her arms. “To think, how different the world might be in just ten years—”
“Stop right there,” a gruff voice said. Mg. Praff halted immediately; Alvie stopped just behind him.
The click of metal sent a chill up her back. She’d heard that sound before, on the shooting range near the Jefferson School.
She turned to see two persons behind her. They wore common English clothes, but both had brown cloths tied around their faces, exposing only part of their eyes—just enough to see. The taller one held a pistol in his hand. The shorter, slimmer figure had a knife drawn and a tight hat tugged over his head.
Her body went cold.
“Now, now,” Mg. Praff said, very slowly turning as well. They were on a narrow one-way road that connected with the street behind the hospital. No houses, no witnesses, unless another automobile drove by. These thieves must have come from the automobile the chauffeur had mentioned, the one that had followed them all the way from Mayfair.
The taller robber waved the gun, and Alvie flinched. Her mind buzzed with possibilities of how to get away . . . but they all died before really forming. She didn’t have a weapon. She didn’t have any combat skills. She didn’t know any spells to help . . . and even if she did, Polymaking was the second slowest magic there was. She doubted either robber was going to wait while she made some sort of defense.
“Drop the boxes,” the man with the gun said.
Mg. Praff lowered his box to the ground.
“But—” Alvie started.
“Drop them!”
She let go of her box. It crashed onto the road. Mg. Praff, having stooped to lower his box, stood back up and raised his hands. Alvie followed suit. Her heart flipped back and forth in her chest. Was this really happening?
God help her, was she going to die? The air around her bit with a sudden chill. She searched behind the robbers for any help—
The man with the gun came forward. Alvie stumbled back into the stone wall of some building she didn’t dare look at, for doing so would mean taking her eyes off the gun. The pistol looked right at her with its hollow black eye. The other robber bent down and, with the knife and a shaky grip, opened the box. He sorted through it, occasionally glancing at Mg. Praff. Bandages and syringes and even a bedpan went flying onto the cobbles. With a scowl, he moved on to the second box. His accomplice pointed the gun at Mg. Praff now. More supplies spilled onto the road.
The crouching thief shook his head. The one with the gun cursed. “All worthless,” he muttered.
The sound of a second cocking hammer made Alvie’s breath hitch. She turned, only to see a well-dressed man coming up the same path she had just taken. No mask. He had graying hair and a nearly white half beard. He, too, carried a firearm.
The thieves froze.
“Put it down, son,” the man warned. He nodded toward her mentor. “Marion.”
“Alfred.” Mg. Praff said his name in greeting almost as if there weren’t two armed robbers right in front of them. Alvie didn’t know who Alfred was, but his firearm was pointed at the thief with the gun, so she instantly liked him.
The thief set the gun down and slowly stood. Alvie’s eyes darted between the two thieves. She focused on the shorter one, on the way his clothes fit. He reached into his pocket.
She jumped. “Look out, he’s—”
The robber’s hand shot down. An explosion of . . . confetti? . . . engulfed both criminals. When the paper bits settled, the crooks were gone.
Alfred lowered his revolver and pulled what looked like a compact mirror from his pocket. “I need all hands down on Thompson. Two escaped robbers. One, one hundred seventy-eight centimeters. The other, one sixty-five. Both wearing brown coats and tan slacks.” He closed the mirror and ran down the narrow lane to where it connected with the main road—Thompson, Alvie thought. He looked around, shook his head, and returned.
In the distance, police whistles screeched.
Mg. Praff let out a long breath. “You’re a godsend, Alfred.”
“I have a habit of being in the wrong place at the right time.” He smiled.
“Pardon me.” Mg. Praff ran a hand down his face, blinked, and seemed to reset himself. “Alvie, this is Magician Alfred Hughes. Alfred, this is my apprentice, Alvie Brechenmacher.”
Mg. Hughes nodded to her. “I’ll walk with you in case they return, or there’s a third accomplice.”
Alvie hugged herself against the cold December air. Her heart hadn’t slowed yet, and her arms shook with anxiety. “F-Folders?”
Mg. Hughes shook his head. “I doubt it. Concealing confetti is a transferable magic. Likely purchased it somewhere. But the spell doesn’t let you travel far.”
Alvie nodded. Stepped on a bandage. Coming to herself, she crouched down and began reboxing all the supplies, even the wet ones.
Mg. Praff sighed. “We’re just on our way to deliver supplies. My apologies again.” He shook his head. He seemed anxious as well. “I’m slipping with my introductions. Alvie, Magician Alfred Hughes is the head of Criminal Affairs for England. I suppose that’s important enough to include, isn’t it?”
Mg. Hughes chuckled.
Alvie paused her boxing and looked at Mg. Hughes with wide eyes. “Truly? I, uh.” She stood and wiped her hands on her slacks, then extended the right. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.”
He shook her hand. His grip was firm. Oddly, it helped her relax. “And you, too. New to the place, I take it?”
“Yes, since September.”
“Always nice to see a young lady keep her head in trying situations.” He released her hand.
Mg. Praff bent down and picked up supplies. Mg. Hughes helped him. “What brings you here?” Mg. Praff asked.
“On my way to the Parliament building, what else? Hmm.” He picked up a roll of bandages and turned it over in his hands. “What were they after, do you think?”
Alvie’s mind flashed to the polymery. Could these robbers from the street be connected to the burglaries? Mg. Praff clearly thought it possible, because as soon as everything was repacked and they started for the hospital again, he shared the story about the break-in. Mg. Hughes hadn’t heard, though Alvie wasn’t too surprised. The man in charge of Criminal Affairs—one of the departments of the Magicians’ Cabinet—likely had more important things to worry about than failed burglaries.
Another siren wailed as they crossed Thompson and came up to the delivery entrance.
“I see.” Mg. Hughes nodded. “Keep me informed, Marion. I’ll do the same.” He turned to Alvie and nodded. “Good to meet you.”
Alvie nodded in return. Mg. Hughes hurried back the way he’d come. Did he have a buggy parked back there somewhere, or had he merely been within walking distance of the Parliament building?
Mg. Praff knocked on the delivery entrance door.
Mg. Praff sighed. “I’m sorry about all of this, Alvie. Despite all the good we try to do, there are some terrible men in the world.”
Alvie glanced at him, then back the way they’d come. “Not just men, Magician Praff.”
“Hm?”
She shifted her box in her hands. “I’m fairly certain the shorter one was a woman.” She wore men’s clothes, yes, but they fit wrong. And she wore a hat as if to cover her hair.
“I . . . I didn’t notice.”
Alvie tipped her head in the direction Mg. Hughes had gone. “What is he a magician of?”
“Magician Hughes is a Siper.”
“Really?” Siping was the magic closest to Polymaking. It was a Siper who had discovered plastic as a material in the first place. She wondered if Bennet would want to hear about that since his father owned a Siping factory. The same factory where Ethel had lost her arm.
Ethel.
Alvie looked down at the supplies in her arms.
Surely the person who’d attempted to burglarize the polymery, and—if her theory was correct—the robbers who’d assaulted them tonight, had been after Ethel’s prosthetic arm. It was the only thing of true value inside the lab besides the Imagidome, but the latter could be easily traced back to Mg. Praff, making it impossible to sell. Yet Mg. Praff’s polymery was the fourth to be hit, and surely the other victims didn’t have prosthetic arms in their labs! What was the thief after?
Something to present at the convention, Magician Ezzell? she thought. Granted, he had been burglarized as well, but . . . it didn’t sit right with Alvie. It was like trying to solve a math equation with two variables, and there weren’t enough real numbers to figure out the second.
Unfortunately for the thief, she was very good at math.
CHAPTER 14
ALVIE CAREFULLY PLACED HER wrapped presents in the center of her suitcase, surrounding them with clothes to cushion any bumps she was sure to encounter on her way home. An English pocket watch for her father—she’d removed the gold-colored faceplate and replac
ed it with a sturdy plastic one enchanted to be transparent, so that all the watch’s gears were visible. For her mother, she’d made a plastic rolling pin with an Image Memory spell on it so that it would roll out dough on its own. She hoped they would be pleased. It would be wonderful to see them in person and not through the garbled interference of layers of mirrors. She had yet to mention the run-in with the thieves or the questioning from the police the following day. She hadn’t wanted them to worry or, worse, insist she transfer somewhere closer to home. Besides, she didn’t really care to remember the events herself; focusing on family and holidays was much more pleasant. She’d tell them after Christmas. Maybe.
Her gift for Bennet was tucked into the bag strung over her shoulder. She’d already mailed a box of chocolates and a copy of Heart of Darkness to Ethel earlier that week.
Mrs. Praff held nothing back for the holidays. The manor was strewn with evergreen boughs and holly. She’d even hired a Folder to install small snowflakes that hovered about the ceiling, swirling in various patterns. The Gaffer and Pyre lamps in the hallways glowed green and red at night, and not a single dinner had gone by in the last two weeks where she hadn’t talked of the Christmas Day menu, or about having all three of her children visit in addition to her sister.
“Preston is quite handsome,” Mrs. Praff had said to Alvie last night, referring to her eldest nephew. “He likes academic girls. Are you sure you won’t stay an extra two days, just to meet him?”
Alvie smiled and closed her suitcase. No, she wouldn’t. She itched to be home, and besides, there was only one Englishman she cared to see before she departed for Hamburg.
Emma’s soft, familiar knock sounded at her door. She cracked it open. “Mr. Cooper for you, Alvie. Have him waiting in the main hall.”
“Thank you. I’ll be right down.”
Emma smiled and left, and Alvie faced the mirror. She’d been tempted to have Emma do her hair for the trip—something extra for Bennet, whom she hadn’t seen in person for weeks. But then, it wasn’t sensible to be dressed up for travel, especially since part of her journey would be on a boat. Instead, Alvie had calmed her locks with a little serum and a comb and pulled them into a thick French braid falling down her back. She thought it made her glasses look a little larger, but nothing could be done about that.
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