by Sara Hanover
And I had no doubt at all that he could. “Do you think Brian can help?”
He shrugged. “I have hopes. I must do something. The professor—”
I remembered that he had declined at first and must have changed his mind, determining to help Morty. “What is your wife like?”
He stared at me for a long moment as if deciding whether to answer or not. He answered slowly. “She is a strong woman. In her thoughts and actions. She defends herself most vigorously and can be very persuasive if she thinks you are wrong-minded. We knew each other decades before I decided I must make my move, as you would say. When I asked her to marry me, she shook her head. ‘I’m a hard woman to love,’ she told me. ‘All my kin and all yours would agree. I am not a pretty flower to be admired, but a statue of command and decision to take heed by.’ So I said to her, taking Germanigold’s hand, ‘I promise to value your thoughts and deeds as much, if not more, than my own. And stone keeps its promise.’ She did not answer then, but in a few years she came to me and said ‘Yes.’ We sealed our vows with bridal gifts. To prove my love, I gave her the Eye of Nimora.” He sat back against the train bench with a heavy sigh.
“The who?”
“Nimora. It’s a gem in a setting. It has a power of its own, and that’s all I will say about it.” He closed his jaw tightly, goatee not wavering.
“That’s her name? Germanigold?”
“I’ve always called her Goldie.”
“You’ve kept your promise.”
“No. I let them take her from me! I don’t know what kind of battle she fought against them, or how she fares now. I don’t know what she thinks—that I let her go or have not come for her yet.” His hand curled into a fist. “I haven’t forgotten her!”
I could feel his heated emotions, a warm wave enveloping me. I leaned still closer. “Of course not. And she has to know that, from the way you described her. Brian will find her, but if he’s not capable, I will help you. We will find her.”
“Thank you, lass.” He cocked his head slightly. “But what about you? Are you not about finding your father?”
I shuffled a foot. “My mom wants to. I’m still . . . I’m still angry, I guess. He wrecked everything and we, Mom and I, won’t get out of this hole for a long time.”
“You’re sure it was him?”
I narrowed my eyes at Morty’s expressionless face and strong brow, like a battering ram. “Considering that everything he did was an inside job, pretty sure.”
“Remember, I’ve heard a bit about his owing and borrowing. I found myself surprised that this man, this man I’d known about for a handful of years, could suddenly and recklessly run up so much debt. Desperately. Even knowing what it could do to his family, and,” Morty lowered his chin a bit, pitching his voice lower, “I know that he loved you both. He would get behind a hundred or two but never in the thousands or tens of thousands.”
“What are you saying?”
“We live in an electronic age. Identify theft is rampant.”
“But.” I tried to think. “But wouldn’t he have tried to stop it?”
“Most don’t find out until the damage has already been done. Mind you, I have no idea if that could have happened. I do know your father had dealings with the professor, and Brandard has a fairly good eye for character.”
“You’ve said that before. Dealings. What kind of deal?”
“That, I couldn’t say. I’m not privy to the professor’s business. Brandard had connections all over the world, for all that he would bluster and say he was retired.”
“Magical business?”
The corner of Morty’s mouth pulled back, just a bit. “The business world is full of much smoke and many mirrors, is it not?”
Okay, now he was just being mysterious and irritating. I flung myself back into my seat.
“Whatever.”
“We will both be greatly enlightened once the professor is himself again.”
I found myself looking over Morty’s bulky shoulder at the sleeping young man behind us. “But he won’t ever be the same, will he?”
“No. Your blustery, gruff, bent, and aged old professor is gone. But the mind I knew, curious, bright and lightning-quick, aye, that man should come back to us.”
“The sooner the better.”
Morty patted my knee. “You’ll get no argument from me on that.” His head turned. “It looks like civilization is nearing.”
I followed his gaze. Indeed. The forests had given way to neighborhoods and roads, and in this area, all roads led to the capital.
CHAPTER NINE
THE BUSTLING HUMANITY at the train station in Washington DC swallowed us up as we arrived. I saw no one I recognized, although that tall figure caught the edge of my eyesight again, the one I knew couldn’t be Carter Phillips even though I kind of lost my breath at that brief glance. He disappeared against the dazzle of white and gold marble, and the din of the place smothered his going. If Remy or Steptoe had followed us off, they’d become undetectable immediately. I’d been to this grand station twice before, both on school trips to the various Smithsonians along the mall, but the destination itself never failed to impress me. Six major rail lines came into this station, with all the life they brought with them, plus the attached building was a mall in and of itself, tall and cavernous in a glorious way, holding a galleria, landing after landing of shops and restaurants. They smelled of good food, leather, fine perfumes, and the press of people. I took a long in and out breath.
Pulling my phone out, I texted my mom that we’d arrived all right, and the weather looked great.
She texted back. Thanks, and remember to do the adulting.
I grinned at that. It was her way of worrying about me and telling me to be careful. She was always telling me that I’d assumed the adult role in the family, going around and doing all the door locking at night and other things, admonishing me to let her be the adult. I answered: We can be adults together!
The ground vibrated a bit. I turned around to face Morty. “There should be buses, double-decker buses, and private shuttles for tourists at the edge of the parking lot, all waiting for passengers. We ought to be able to hire one.”
His broad face smiled. “Then we shouldn’t disappoint them.”
“I need to find a restroom first.”
“Then we shall wait for you.” His beard inclined a bit, and I trotted off while he turned to explain a few facts to Brian, who stood at his heels, still a bit pale from the trip. Maybe he was just hungry—again. He seemed to always be hungry. If that was it. If he wasn’t fading, somehow, some way, because he wasn’t fully transformed. I wondered if he felt as if he were caught between two worlds: the past and this one. He shouldn’t be tired. He’d napped more than two hours.
More primal thoughts filled my mind and I hurried to find my destination, the restroom. Once done, I paused near the upstairs banister. From the landing, I had the vantage point overlooking much of the mall’s main floor, a shot of the archway to the train station itself, and the streams of people coming in to shop, eat, and mingle. I searched for Remy and saw nothing of her, making me wonder if she carried a Potter-style Cloak of Invisibility. Shouldn’t all mages have one? I did see plenty of ordinary people. The crowd skewed mostly my age, and I could hear excited voices echoing upward as the noise dueled with the reports of footsteps. Much of the traffic seemed headed for various dress shops. Ah, the lure of dating. I wondered if Evelyn would pick the “girls’ night out” invitation for the spring bash. It sounded rather fun.
“Going shopping or just skipping classes like the rest of the kids?”
I whirled about at the voice in my ear. Long, tall Carter Phillips in a soft cotton t-shirt with that band on it and old jeans stood waiting for an answer. It had been him I’d spotted. Kids. I was one of them it seemed. It made the gap between us loom that much wider. I didn’
t know if that was a step up from being a Person of Interest or not. I wasn’t sure I wanted to find out. Heat simmered up my throat and into my cheeks as I stammered. “Playing tourist. I brought the professor’s nephew.”
I found a smile.
Carter lifted his chin so that he could look past me. “The hefty guy and Brian?”
“That’ll be the two. There isn’t much we can do at home until the body is released and the investigation is finished, and Mom and I thought we’d try to take his mind off . . . well, what happened.”
He nodded.
“But how did you . . .” I let my question trail off. I had found, over the last few years, that it works much better if you don’t question the police. They don’t like that. The last few days had rattled my brain enough that I couldn’t think of a sideways approach, though, and I shuffled one foot restlessly.
“I seem to have a built-in GPS when it comes to finding you.” Carter’s eyes smiled, though his mouth stayed neutral.
“Or you put a tracker in my car, but wait—I don’t drive.”
“If that’s what you want to believe.”
“Well, if you’re not here to arrest me, I have two tourists to round up. Lots to see!”
“Why would I want to arrest you?”
“My father has never turned up and now you’ve told me the professor’s body still hasn’t been found.”
“And I never said you were anything but a victim.” He put his hand on my wrist. “You found Brian at the professor’s house, right?”
“Just like I told you. Hiding in the backyard. Poor guy had been asleep when the house went up. Had nothing on but his skivvies, as they say.”
“Huh. Did he smell like chemicals or anything unusual?”
“Just smoke. Why?” I frowned at Carter. “You think he might have started it? If he did, he made a poor choice for working clothes.”
His jaw tightened a little. “We found an accelerant in the foyer. The arson investigator is a little perplexed because it’s only in one, small area, and it’s not been identified. Normally accelerant is spread throughout the entire house, for maximum burn and damage.”
“Maybe it was just a bottle of brandy or something on the sideboard.”
He shook his head. “Different chemical signature. But you don’t think Brian could have been involved in anything like that?”
“Never. He’s smart, but in a backward sort of way. And naïve.”
“Or a good actor.”
I shrugged a shoulder. “I think I’d notice. Is the house a total loss?”
“Most of it. One room stayed relatively untouched.”
“Upstairs bathroom?” I guessed, thinking of all the porcelain and water pipes.
“No. It looks as if it might have been his library or study.”
“Wow.” That meant the heart of the professor’s home had stayed intact. Or it would until someone else found out about it. I could bet that he’d have looters if word got around. Antique hunters if no one else. “Can Brian go in, rummage around, and salvage what he can?”
“Not possible. The rest of the house is pretty fragile, and we do have an investigation going on.”
“Oh. Right.” Seriously, what was I thinking in asking permission? It would be better to ask for forgiveness, after the fact. I’d never gotten farther than the threshold to his library, and that musty smell of many, many books shelved about, like a forgotten vault of knowledge and mystery. The thought made my pulse step up and I knew where I wanted to make a beeline to, the minute we got home.
Below, Morty had been casting about and finally saw me up on the second-floor landing. He gave a hearty wave, his hand filled with paper slips, tickets, no doubt.
“I need to go. I think there’s a tour that needs its guide.”
He leaned over the rail and waved back, to Morty’s consternation. I could almost hear the rumbling humph. “I’ll be in town most of the day, if you need me for any reason.”
“Why would I need you?”
His gaze had never left Mortimer Broadstone. “That man is, as far as I know, a total stranger. If he’s bothering you or your mom, you need to tell me.”
“Oh, no, no. He is a genuine, longtime friend of the professor. He wants to help with Brian. Mom approves of him.” At least, I thought she did.
Carter looked back to me then, assessing my face for a long moment. “But you would ask if you needed assistance.”
“The police? Maybe not. But you, yes. Mom calls you a gentleman.”
He might have blushed faintly, hard to tell in the mall’s lighting, but his eyes crinkled at the corners and his cleft deepened attractively. He tapped the banister railing. “Just a tourist day? No thought of searching for the last known trail of your dad?”
That last part of his question opened my eyes. “What do you mean by last known?”
Carter went stone silent.
“You guys all said there had never been any activity on his credit cards or his phone. That there was no trail.”
“That’s what we said.”
“But you know better.”
He shifted his weight.
“You knew. All this time. He just didn’t fall off the face of the earth.”
“He did, eventually. Your not knowing that there had been a trail helped lift some of the suspicion.”
I wanted to get up in his face and stopped myself, knowing we could draw a crowd. “Some of the suspicion? Just some? I’m nineteen now. The last two-plus years of my life have been absolute hell because no one believed us that he just walked out and we never heard from him again. Half of them wanted to burn us at the stake and the other half couldn’t look at us without dripping pity. My father!”
“Tessa, I’m sorry but it wasn’t my call.”
“Oh, damnit. I’m not here because I knew something which I never knew, but if you know anything at all, you’d better tell me when I get home or I will go down to the department and raise all sort of holy hell.” I shook my finger in his face.
The color in his face rose a little more, making his cleft scar stand out in its paleness. He took my hand in midair, wrapping his much bigger and stronger hand around it. “I’ll take that as a promise.”
His warmth and strength enveloped my hand, and sent a spark somewhere deep inside, stopping me. Before I could say another anger-filled word, he turned and left, weaving in and out of the crowd, some of them throwing back a curious look at me.
I sagged against the banister. John Graham Andrews hadn’t just disappeared. Well, he had, but what—days, weeks, and months? —after he left us. I ignored Morty’s vigorous waving at me. We’d had no clue. I straightened. Well, I’d had no clue. I wondered if my mother had had the slightest inkling. She would have told me, right? Partners, right? Just like I immediately told her all about the weirdness surrounding the professor. Maybe that’s why she’d never blamed me for his departure. More had been going on than I had ever guessed.
Morty bellowed, “Tessa! Time to go!”
I hustled before he took his agitated bulk to the marble stairway and cracked it or something.
* * *
• • •
“Remember that?” I murmured to Brian as the shuttle approached the mall and the Washington Monument dominated our view, Morty firmly entrenched in the front passenger seat, his shoulders nearly half the van width. He’d hired a rather new shuttle van, complete with eager driver (“Call me Sam!”) but his weight still rocked it.
“How could I forget?” Brian inched closer to the window on his side, taking in the sight.
I stretched my neck to look over his shoulder. The first time my middle school had brought us, the monument was still undergoing repairs for earthquake damage, skirted by a grid of scaffolding and such. It had been impressive then, but stood even more so now, refurbished and cleaned, a spike
of majesty into the sky that had almost not been finished being built—twice—despite great plans. It looked different, better and bigger in person, than it did on TV and film shots, which always seemed to size it down. I’ve been told the Eiffel Tower is the same way, much more massive than in pictures. I hope to check that one out in person someday.
The driver pulled over to a parking lot where, despite its being a weekday, only a few slots were left. I wondered if Remy had parked her broom over to the side. The driver pulled out an iPad reader while we piled out of the vehicle. He’d wait until we wanted to move on, and we had all day, if we needed it. He seemed remarkably disinterested in anything we might have to say, until I spotted the discreet ear pods. Probably hadn’t heard a word anyway.
We approached on the footpath, my head going back as I looked up and up. I wasn’t sure if the ground moved a bit as Morty strode along it, but I hesitated as we got in line to tour the obelisk. The line wasn’t long, by Washington tourist standards, but I could feel Brian, and then Morty, fidget.
Morty’s brows settled heavily in his vast face when he finished assessing the monument. “She was gravely wounded,” he told me. “I can feel the scars still healing. I would have liked to have been part of the restoration crew, but my second cousin was, and that will have to do.”
“You won’t, um, that is . . .” I couldn’t figure out how to word my worry but Mortimer seemed to be a walking earthquake.
“Don’t worry, lass. My presence will only strengthen the tower more. She’s made of good stone, both quarries that birthed her.” He looked upward at it. “A fine work it is.” He put a hand up, palm out, a faint smile highlighting the concentration that creased his expression. “If only th’ two of you could hear it speak.”
Brian had been carrying his cane but now he let the tip touch the ground, his head tilted to one side. “I think I do.”
Their vibes shivered up the back of my neck and I shook them off. “It’s easier for me to just read the plaques. The monument is full of them.” I pulled the listing we’d printed out from my pocket and smoothed it. “We have a hundred and ninety-four memorial stones to look for in five hundred and fifty-five feet, more or less.” Pointedly, at Brian, “Any chance that thing will work like a dowsing rod?”
