by C. J. Archer
But without cake, I ended up saying what was on my mind. "Don't be angry with me, Matt."
"I'm not."
"You are. Your features are hard, and you can't even look at me."
He looked at me and his jaw softened but not his eyes. "I'm not mad at you, I'm mad at him. I don't like him, and I don't like his ideas. They're reckless."
I couldn't argue with him, not when he had my safety in mind. Besides, part of me agreed with him. The other part of me agreed with Oscar Barratt, but I wouldn't let on as much.
I refilled both our teacups. "Let's focus on the matters at hand and not Mr. Barratt's ideas. We have two tasks and two tasks only. Find Chronos and find Dr. Hale's murderer to clear your name."
"There's been no word from The Cross Keys," he said. "As to Dr. Hale, I'm at a loss. We have several suspects but no good leads."
"We could speak with Abercrombie and find out what he told Mr. Clark of the Apothecary's Guild."
"He won't tell us."
"Then we should concentrate on finding out which of our apothecaries is a magician. That's all we know for certain about our murderer."
"Agreed. A little spying is in order. But first, this afternoon, would you like to help me pick out a new watch?"
My heart rose, and I couldn't stop the smile creeping over my face. "Yes, please. We could visit the Masons. I'd like to give Mr. Mason your custom. Although he might get in trouble from the guild if Abercrombie finds out I visited. I don't want to cause him any difficulties. On the other hand, every respectable watchmaker in London knows who and what I am now. None will want me in their shop." I slumped back in the chair with a deep sigh. "Perhaps I shouldn't go at all."
"Since we questioned all of the prominent watchmakers, I don't think it matters if I go alone. They'll remember me anyway and may refuse to serve me."
"You are very distinctive."
"It's the accent."
"No, Matt, it's not."
He frowned. "What is it then?"
I was considering whether to tell him he was too handsome to be so easily forgotten when Bristow announced another visitor, my friend, Catherine Mason.
"What a lovely surprise," I said, kissing her cheek. "Bristow, please bring a fresh pot of tea. And some cake."
Catherine smiled shyly at Matt as he greeted her. The last time she'd visited me, he'd been absent, as had the others. We exchanged small talk until the tea and cake arrived, by which time I realized she had something to tell me. Perhaps Matt's presence held her back.
"Catherine, is something wrong?" I prompted. "Is it your Mr. Wilcox problem?"
"Good lord, no," she said. "I spoke to Mr. Wilcox about our unsuitability, and I haven't seen him since. I think I may have hurt his feelings a little."
"Better hurt them a little now rather than a lot later."
"You're so wise, India."
"She is indeed," Matt said, setting down his teacup. "Perhaps I should leave you two ladies to talk alone."
"Please stay." Catherine put down her cup too. "It might be best if you hear this as well."
She had me intrigued now. "What is it, Catherine? What's happened?"
"Mr. Abercrombie continues to visit my father regularly. More than ever, in fact. I try to listen in whenever I can."
"Please be careful, Catherine," I said. "Don't let them catch you."
She frowned. "That's the odd thing. Your name comes up in what is sometimes a heated discussion and you tell me to be careful." She settled her very blue, very piercing gaze on me. She'd never looked at me so fiercely before. It was unnerving. "I think it's time you tell me what's going on."
I glanced at Matt. He gave his head a slight shake.
"Stop treating me like a child," Catherine snapped. "You're my friend, India, and I know you're in trouble. I want to help you, but I can't if I am kept in the dark."
She was right. She might be silly on occasion but she had a good heart and had matured in recent months. "It's a lot to comprehend," I began. "And you might not believe me at first."
"India," Matt warned.
"We can trust her, Matt. What does it matter, anyway? The entire guild seems to know. She's bound to find out sooner or later, and I'd rather she learned it from me first."
He rubbed his forehead and nodded. "I suppose you're right."
"Catherine, do you believe in magic?"
She stared at me, her mouth ajar. "Is this a joke?"
"I'm very serious. Magic exists, although it's rare. Magicians specialize in certain creative fields and can infuse their magic into their creations using spells. We recently met an ink magician who can make ink float off one page onto another. We've also met map magicians who can create the most elaborate yet accurate maps, and a gold magician who had forgotten the art of multiplying gold but could feel ancient magic in golden objects."
She spluttered a laugh but it died on her lips. "And you're telling me you're a magician?"
I nodded. "Of timepieces. That's why I'm so good at fixing watches and clocks."
"You're good because your father taught you well. You understand even the most complicated mechanisms because you're clever, not because of…magic."
"I don't know any spells," I went on. "My father kept my ability a secret from me, and I was led to believe that I was clever, as you suggest. But that doesn't explain it all. I have a strong affinity with timepieces. I can fix most and make them incredibly accurate." I didn't tell her how my watch had saved my life, or how time magic and medical magic were combined in Matt's watch. She wasn't ready to hear that.
"India! This is…" She shook her head over and over, but at least she was no longer laughing off my explanation.
"It's shocking, I know," I said. "You'll need time to think it through."
She took several seconds to consider my claim and did not so much as laugh or call me a fool.
"Let's say you're not talking utter nonsense," she said carefully. "What does it have to do with Abercrombie and the guild? Why does he dislike you? If you're a magician then shouldn't he be celebrating your achievements? You ought to be guild master."
"He and the guild members are frightened. They're not magicians, and they're worried that if magicians are allowed to own shops, customers will flock to them for their fine pieces. It's not just the Watchmaker's Guild that's afraid, but the other guilds too. There seems to be a loose agreement between all the guilds to bar magicians to protect their businesses. That's why I wasn't accepted into the Watchmaker's Guild and granted a license. No license, no shop."
"I thought it was because you were a woman." She sounded numb, but at least she wasn't denying it altogether.
"Has Abercrombie been telling your father to keep you away from me?" I asked.
"Actually no, not anymore. My father has urged me not to visit you, but Abercrombie has recently changed his tune. He now wants me to come here, but to spy on you."
"Spy on me! For what purpose?"
She shrugged. "I don't know. India, he dislikes and distrusts you."
"Because I have the ability to ruin his business and ruin the guild's reputation and importance. But I have no interest in having a shop, Catherine. None at all. Watch and clockmakers like your father have nothing to worry about there. Tell your father that. In fact, tell Mr. Abercrombie when next he visits."
"I don't think it wise," Matt said. "It's better for her if she pretends innocence."
"Fiddlesticks," Catherine said with a sniff. "I'm tired of everyone thinking me naive and silly. I'm going to at least tell Father, and he can decide whether to tell Mr. Abercrombie or not."
"I think that's a good compromise," I said.
Cyclops walked in and paused in the doorway when he spotted Catherine. "My apologies," he said. "I didn't know you had company."
"I don't think you two have properly met," I said. "Cyclops, this is my friend, Catherine Mason."
Cyclops bowed and she gave him a small curtsy before sitting again. "I noticed you through your father's sh
op window," he said.
"You noticed me?" Catherine's pale cheeks flushed pink. "When you were Mr. Glass's coachman?"
"He's not my coachman anymore," Matt assured her. "That was a temporary arrangement that couldn't be helped. Cyclops is a good friend."
"Then I'm pleased to finally meet you properly, Mr. Cyclops."
"Bailey," Cyclops said.
"Pardon?"
"My name's Nate Bailey." He fingered the edge of his eye patch. "Cyclops is what they called me after I got this. But I'd like it if you called me by my proper name, Miss Mason."
"Yes, of course."
Matt's brow furrowed. "Do you want all of us to stop calling you Cyclops now?"
"Just Miss Mason." Cyclops's gaze flickered to her then away. "It doesn't seem right that she should call me that, somehow."
"Why?"
"I agree," I said to save Cyclops from answering him.
Matt looked from me to Cyclops to Catherine then back to Cyclops. Then he smiled into his teacup. "I see."
"I gave up looking for…your colleague, Matt," Cyclops said. "It's impossible in a city this large without a place to begin."
Matt nodded. "I suspect Willie and Duke will be back soon, too. Come and join us."
"You've returned at an opportune moment," I said, pouring tea into a spare cup for Cyclops. "We've just finished telling Catherine about my magic and explaining why that means the guild members fear me. I think she should tell her father about me. What do you think?"
He accepted the cup and sat a little awkwardly on the sofa. Usually he sprawled, as did Duke and Willie, but this time he sat with his back straight and his legs tucked in, not stretched out in front of him. I hoped Catherine appreciated the fine figure he cut for her benefit. He did ruin the effect a little by wrapping his fingers around the teacup rather than holding it by the delicate handle. To be fair, it would have looked like a sausage trying to fit through the eye of a needle.
"I think Miss Mason can trust her parents but no one else," he said. "You accept the existence of magic, Miss Mason?"
"I…I suppose." She wrinkled her nose. "It is rather fanciful, but since I know India isn't the fanciful type, I must believe her."
"I think that's a fair assessment of her character."
"Is magic unique to England, or are there magicians in America, Mr. Bailey?"
"We have magicians back home. It took me some time to accept they were real. I didn't trust too many folk back then, and I didn't know Matt all that well, so believing in magic was like taking a leap off a cliff. I soon learned the truth of it. Saw some of it work with my own eyes."
"Really?" Catherine's gaze studied every inch of Cyclops's face, and I rather suspected he liked it. He was certainly chattier than I'd ever known him to be. "Tell me more about your home. What's America like?"
"I can't speak for all of it, but it can be a wild place where Matt and I come from. It ain't somewhere that fair ladies like yourself should visit, Miss Mason."
She eyed him over her teacup. "And what about ladies seeking adventure?"
He chuckled, the deep rich sound filling the room. Catherine smiled back. "Those will find it interesting enough but may wish they were home safe in their English beds if they ever witness a gunfight or saloon brawl."
"Oh, I don't know. I think that rather depends on how adventurous she is."
Matt looked all at sea as he watched Catherine flirting with his friend and Cyclops enjoying it. It seemed he hadn't expected it. But then, he didn't know her like I did. Catherine may seem sweet, with her pretty face and big eyes, but she had a wicked streak and sought adventure whenever she could—which wasn't often, under her mother's watchful eye. I suspected she would like to travel to America, or anywhere, before she settled down with a husband. If she settled down at all.
We talked more about America and magic again, and the discussion returned to Abercrombie and the guild's determination to spy on me.
"Perhaps Catherine could report back to them," I said, as an idea occurred to me. "But she could pass on false information."
Both Cyclops and Matt shook their heads but gave no explanation for their disagreement. They were being such men about the whole thing, and I appealed to Catherine for her opinion. But she shook her head too.
"Without my father's agreement, it's pointless," she said. "He won't allow it, and I don't want to go behind his back. What if you confront Abercrombie?"
"I've tried that, and he either chases me away or orders someone to escort me out of his shop," I said.
"I think it's an excellent idea," Matt said. "I've decided to confront him about his meetings with Clark from the Apothecary's Guild. This way we kill two birds with one stone." He checked the clock on the mantel. "We'll go now, India, if you don't mind."
"You want me to come with you?"
"Of course. He won't dare pull the same stunt he did last time we visited his shop, and your presence may even irk him enough that he gives more information than he should. Besides, who else will tell me if he's trying to sell me a good watch or a bad one?"
"I think you'll rattle him well and good," Catherine said. "Is Mr. Bailey going with you?"
"He's not required. Perhaps you two can get to know one another a little better in our absence."
"That's not a good idea," Cyclops said, rising.
"Nonsense." Matt pressed his friend's shoulder until Cyclops sat again. "Miss Mason seems in no hurry to leave."
"Indeed I'm not," she said. "I'd like to get to know you better, Mr. Bailey. I'd like that very much."
Chapter 9
The last time I'd been to Abercrombie's Fine Watches and Clocks on Oxford Street, I'd been chased by vigilantes after Mr. Abercrombie accused me of stealing one of his watches. Although I knew Matt was right, and Abercrombie wouldn't dare do such a thing again now that he knew what Matt was capable of, I was still anxious as we headed into the shop. I expected our reception to be frosty, at the very least.
I was right.
Abercrombie spied us immediately and rushed forward before any of his four staff could greet us. He glared at me over the pince nez perched precariously on the tip of his nose. "What do you want?" he hissed under his breath. "State your business then leave without creating a scene."
The wicked gleam in Matt's eyes gave me fair warning of his plans, but I suspected Mr. Abercrombie didn't see it coming. "Now, now, Mr. Abercrombie," Matt said loudly enough that the other customers could hear. "You must put that misunderstanding behind you. It must be difficult to admit that you were wrong to accuse Miss Steele of theft, but she holds no grudges. Or are you still upset that the police questioned you about your involvement in Daniel Gibbons's murder?"
The sound of several gasps momentarily drowned out the ticking of dozens of clocks. The customers watched the scene playing out before them openly instead of with surreptitious sideways glances. Two customers even left. The staff stopped serving and stared at their master in disbelief.
Mr. Abercrombie's oiled mustache wriggled, worm-like, above his lip. He looked as if he wanted to thrash Matt. Part of me wished he would try, simply so I could see Matt thrash him instead. "Perhaps you'd like to join me out the back." Mr. Abercrombie did not wait for an answer but marched off.
Matt didn't follow, so I remained at his side. He held his elbow out to me. "I'm here to purchase a watch," he said idly. "What do you think of that one, Miss Steele?" he asked, pointing to an elegant enamel faced watch with a calendar.
"Does it have tourbillon regulator?" I asked the assistant behind the counter. "No? What about a karrusel?"
"Er…" He looked to Mr. Abercrombie.
Mr. Abercrombie shooed him out of the way. "So you wish to play this silly game," he said to us when we were alone. "Very well, let's play." He drew the watch out from the glass cabinet and laid it on the counter in front of Matt.
Matt didn't even look at it. "I hear you're asking young women to spy on us now."
Mr. Abercrombie's head jerke
d up.
"That's low, even by your standards," Matt went on.
"I, I…" Abercrombie licked his lips. "I don't know what you mean."
I could not believe Matt would be so blatant, and yet I wanted to applaud him. It was the best—and perhaps only— way to get Abercrombie to leave us alone; to make him think we were always one step ahead.
"Don't play the fool with me," Matt growled, voice low. "Mason himself has not tattled but not everyone in the household is loyal to you. I have an idea. Let's cut out the middleman and I'll report directly to you, beginning now."
"You're mad," Mr. Abercrombie said.
Matt leaned his knuckles on the counter. Abercrombie took a step back, putting distance and the counter between them. "I'm damned furious," Matt said. "As anyone would be after being kidnapped and kept prisoner for several hours."
Mr. Abercrombie swallowed heavily and stepped back again, knocking the clocks on the wall behind him. One slipped to the side and the cuckoo popped out, grazing Abercrombie's ear.
"I've been looking forward to this first meeting with you," Matt said. "I want you to know that I harbor no ill feelings."
"I…I don't know what you're talking about. That wasn't me."
Matt grunted a harsh laugh. "I know it was you, even if I have no proof."
"You have no proof because I didn't—"
Matt slammed his fist down on the counter. The remaining customers hurried out, and the staff kept their distance. I wasn't sure whether to take Matt's arm and urge him to calm down or let his anger ride itself out.
"Who told you about India's magic?" Matt asked in a harsh whisper.
Of all the questions I thought he'd say, that was not on the list. I held my breath and forced myself to look unruffled as Mr. Abercrombie's gaze fell on me.
"Wh-what do you mean?" he asked.
"Again, you're playing the fool." The chill in Matt's tone sent a shiver down my spine. "Don't."
Abercrombie removed his pince nez. "Eddie Hardacre told me."
