by Sarah Noffke
Chapter Thirty-Seven
The law office was buzzing with secretaries hustling between cubicles when Liv stepped off the elevator. She hadn’t realized she was dressed so differently from them until she’d gotten three strange looks. If she had thought about it, she would have changed into a pencil skirt and blazer like the rest of them. However, she thought that showing up in her black cape with her sheathed sword might be better. More of an impact.
“May I help you?” the woman behind the receptionist desk asked.
Liv was just about to respond when she recognized the back of a man’s head. It was Mr. Grimson, heading into a back office.
“I’m good,” Liv said, sweeping by the woman.
“Miss, unless you have an appointment, you—”
“I have an appointment,” Liv said, lacing her words with magical intention.
The secretary was easily brainwashed, shaking her head and turning around. “That’s right. Of course, you do.”
Liv kept her chin high as she breezed past the other offices, earning many curious stares. When she arrived at the largest one at the back, she halted in the entrance. Mr. Grimson’s office was much like him, stuffy and lacking any personality.
“Michelle, just put the files on the table,” he said, sitting behind his desk and focusing intently on a report in front of him.
Liv strode into the office, pulling Bellator from her hip. She angled the sword and thrust it into the top of the lawyer’s desk, piercing the report he’d been reading. He didn’t jump back as she had expected, but rather calmly looked up at her, blinking dully.
She knew then that he was behind all this. He had to be. Anyone else would have freaked the moment he was nearly impaled with a sword.
“Oh, it’s you,” he said, no enthusiasm in his voice.
Liv tilted her chin, making the door at her back slam shut and lock. “Yes, and I know that you’re behind the elf who has been trying to steal Turbinger.”
Mr. Grimson raised an eyebrow, not at all looking deterred. “Ms. Beaufont, my client simply wants returned to them what is rightfully theirs.”
Liv grabbed the hilt of Bellator and yanked it from the desk, keeping the tip directed at Mr. Grimson’s unyielding face. “Who is your client?”
The lawyer actually smiled. “Intimidation won’t work on me. I’m prohibited from speaking, no matter what form of torture you use.” He laughed coldly. “I’ll even pretend to like it. I’m not quite sure I can pull that off, but I know I can’t talk.”
Just like the elf, this man was charmed not to speak and disclose information.
“Why are you forcing John out of his shop?” Liv asked, still pointing the sword at the uptight lawyer.
He shrugged. “My client believes that if you’re not willing to give up what belongs to them, you should suffer.”
Damn it, Liv thought, a crushing feeling assaulting her insides. This was all her fault. She’d put John in a horrible position. As she feared, her enemies had become his, taking out their anger at her on him.
“You will drop this case against John and leave him alone,” she said, injecting the same persuasion she’d used on the receptionist into her voice.
Wayne Grimson simply smiled. “Brainwashing won’t work on me. My client has assured that much.”
Damn it, damn it, damn it, Liv thought, gripping Bellator tighter.
“What exactly does your client want?” Liv nearly yelled.
“I believe it is quite clear,” he answered casually. “They want the sword.”
“And?” Liv asked, expecting more.
He raised an eyebrow. “That is all, and quite enough.”
Someone was trying to open the door at their back. Mr. Grimson kept his focus on Liv, not distracted.
“In return for the sword, my client is willing to drop the injunction against Mr. Carraway, allowing him to keep his shop,” Mr. Grimson continued.
“What?” Liv asked, disbelieving this. “Your client is insane.”
His eyes flicked to the point of the sword, which was still directed at his Adam’s apple. “My client knows what the shop and Mr. Carraway mean to you. Those are the terms of the agreement. If you don’t give me the sword, the case will go forward, and there is nothing Mr. Carraway or you can do.”
“I can slaughter you,” Liv threatened.
He nodded easily. “You can, but my client will simply hire another lawyer for the case, and I’m sure that will make them angry. Who knows what will happen to Mr. Carraway then? Probably something worse than forced retirement.”
Liv’s worst nightmare was coming true. The vision from the Door of Reflection of John lying helpless in a hospital bed because of her played in her head.
Lowering her sword, Liv regarded the lawyer from hooded eyes.
“If you bring me the sword, you have my word that the case will be dropped.” Mr. Grimson said.
“What good is your word?” Liv asked bitterly.
He blinked at her, appearing more like a robot than a man. “I am bound by oath. If I say I’ll do it, it will happen.”
“And your client?” Liv inquired. “Will they leave us alone altogether?”
Mr. Grimson gave her a cold look. “It’s hard to say. I think that all depends on what you do, and how much you continue to snoop where you’re unwelcome.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Rory thundered across the living room floor, his hands in his hair. “Of course it was a threat.”
“But I don’t understand,” Liv said, doing her own pacing. “I stole the sword for you—”
“And I’m sorry that it’s gotten you and John into this mess,” Rory interrupted.
She shook him off. “No, it’s just that whoever is behind this, they think I’m snooping. Do they know about the other things at the House of Seven I’ve been researching? The ring? The founders’ language? The message Reese left us?”
Rory shook his head, careful to step gingerly over the kittens as they raced underfoot. “Maybe. It’s hard to know at this point, but you have to back off.”
Liv halted, regarding him like he’d just eaten one of the kittens. “Hell, no. I’m not backing off.”
“Liv, whoever is behind this, they are dangerous and powerful,” Rory stated. “I haven’t seen in decades the enchantments the elf used to try to get into my house. Those aren’t easy spells, and I suspect the elf didn’t use them on his own but rather was given them.”
“That’s even more reason for me to keep searching,” Liv stated. “Whoever is behind this is powerful, and who knows what they are trying to hide or control?”
“You shouldn’t get mixed up in this, Liv,” Rory said, warning in his voice. “It’s bigger than you.”
She agreed with a nod. “Yes, and it might be what killed my parents. It might be what killed Ian and Reese. They knew something was going on, and they left us clues. I can’t ignore that.”
Rory stopped abruptly, peering at the back bedroom. “We should quiet down. Mum is sleeping.”
“Oh, I thought you had gnomes sawing wood in the backyard,” Liv joked, plastering a serious look on her face. “Is that what you’ve been hiding in the back? Do you have a workcamp of gnomes? If so, I’m under obligation to bring you in.”
Rory dismissed her with a shake of his head. “Well, I can’t make you stop what you’re doing.”
“About damn time you wised up,” Liv said with a wink.
“However, I did get John into this mess, and I’m going to get him out.” Rory strode over to the mantel and removed Turbinger from its resting spot.
“What? No!” Liv realized she had said that too loudly as soon as Rory cast a punishing glare over his shoulder at her.
“Rory, you can’t give them Turbinger. Your family has been parted from that sword for too long,” Liv stated. “And I’m going to keep poking my nose into whatever I see fit. It’s better if John gets out of this mess. They’ll just use him as a way to get to me.”
“T
hat’s true,” Rory stated, holding the sword up and appraising it. “That’s why we’ve got to ensure he’s protected. Once they drop the settlement, we’ve got to pool our strength and work to protect the shop. Maybe you brainwash a board member from the city. I can hire someone to trail John and ensure he’s safe at all times. Then we set up wards around the shop and his apartment building to keep magical beings who aren’t us away.”
“Are you listening to yourself?” Liv asked, unsure she could even believe what he was saying.
He nodded. “You, as I suspected, aren’t going to back down. That means this isn’t going to stop. Whoever is behind this will continue to retaliate if they suspect you’re snooping or stepping onto their territory.”
“I don’t even know what their territory is,” Liv complained.
“I realize that,” Rory stated. “I asked you to get the sword, but that’s somehow raised red flags, and I don’t know why.”
Liv crossed her arms over her chest. “Well, it doesn’t matter. I’m not going to allow you to give them the sword.”
“Don’t you want John to keep the shop?” Rory asked thoughtfully.
Liv gawked at him. “Of course, I do.”
“Do you want John to move to Mexico?”
Liv was about to reply but stopped herself, unsure of the answer. “I want John to be safe.”
Rory lowered his chin and regarded her with a sincere expression. “I assure you the best way to do that is to keep him near us. If he’s far away, we can’t protect him.”
“But Rory, this is your grandfather’s sword. Your mother, who already loathes me, will pound me to bits if you give up Turbinger.”
A smile lit Rory’s eyes. “Haven’t you been wondering what I’ve been working on in the backyard?”
Liv faked a yawn. “Not in the slightest.”
He rolled his eyes and reached forward, holding out the sword. “Take it.”
Liv gave him a cautious expression.
“You remember what it was like the last few times you held Turbinger, right?”
She nodded.
“Then take this,” he encouraged.
Liv did as she was told, expecting to feel the strange emotions and memories that flowed through her when she held the ancient sword. Her fingers wrapped around the hilt of the blade, the cold metal heavy in her hands. There was nothing. She felt a twinge of energy like before, but not the flow of centuries of wisdom and battle. The sword felt strangely like a regular weapon.
Liv looked up in surprise. “What did you do to it?”
Rory’s eyes danced with delight. “I made a replica.” He snapped his fingers, and in his hands appeared another sword that looked exactly like the one she was holding. “This is the real Turbinger.”
“That’s what you’ve been working on in the back?” Liv asked, lowering the replica, taxed by her battles and not wanting to strain herself by supporting the heavy sword.
Rory nodded. “Yes. I figured that whoever was after the sword wasn’t going to quit until they had it, so I made the replica, which should fool anyone except a giant. In the last hundred years, you’re the only magician to hold the sword and therefore the only one to know why this one is a fake. Otherwise, it should fool any other magician or magical creature.”
“But the real sword…what will you do with that?” Liv asked.
The lightness on Rory’s face disappeared. “I’m afraid it isn’t safe here. They have a tracking spell that will find it if it stays close by. That was why I asked my mum to visit. She’s going to take Turbinger back with her.”
“Will it be safe with her?”
“Yes, because she lives on the other side of the world in a remote giants’ village where outside magic and spells aren’t allowed,” Rory explained. “They won’t be able to easily find Turbinger there. But more importantly, if they have the replica, they won’t even think to look.”
Liv ran her eyes over the real Turbinger and then the replica, amazed that they looked identical. “I can’t believe you were able to make this.”
Rory let out a forced laugh. “It wasn’t easy. Also, this one has none of the magical qualities my grandfather put into Turbinger.”
“Okay, so we give the dumb lawyer the sword, and they let John keep his shop,” Liv said, her heart starting to expand with hope.
Rory nodded. “And we work together to quickly put into place the measures I talked about to protect John, just in case.”
Liv smiled, suddenly very grateful that John was going to stay and the shop would be okay. She hadn’t realized how long it had been since she had last breathed in fully. She had stopped that day that Mr. Wayne Grimson had stepped into the shop.
“There’s one more thing,” Rory said, an edge to his voice.
“Yes?” Liv replied.
“I haven’t had a chance to recover the memories buried in Turbinger,” he began. “I think they may be a part of the mystery you’re trying to uncover.”
“Me, too,” Liv agreed.
“I’ve been busy creating the replica,” Rory stated. “But if you give me one more day, I’ll try to unearth them. Then you can take the replica to the lawyer and Mum will leave with Turbinger.”
Liv nodded. “It sounds like a plan.”
Rory regarded the sword in his hands with quiet appreciation. “Good, because the timing has to be perfect.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Beatles music streamed from an old jukebox that Liv had gotten working for just that occasion. Shane, the regular customer who owned the pawn shop down the way, had sold it to her for a hefty price. She didn’t care. She’d pay three times that to get something she’d known John had wanted for a long time.
Shane wasn’t in attendance at the party that evening. As she and John had agreed, he was the only mortal in the shop that night. It was safer that way. Besides, there was someone coming who Liv wanted to ensure was extra safe. No mortals. No outsiders. Only those she thought she could trust. The number of people on that list was growing, and that scared Liv. Who was she when she had so many around her she trusted and cared about? The thought made her feel vulnerable, and she realized the brutal aspect of trust and why it had been so hard for her. Trust equaled love and vice versa.
“She’s a beauty,” John said, slapping his hand on the top of the jukebox and smiling widely at her. “I can’t believe you got this for the shop.”
“I got it for you, John,” she corrected.
“Well, you didn’t have to,” he reasoned. “First you saved the shop, and now this.”
“I didn’t save the shop,” she said, looking around. “Rory did it. I just was the middleman.” That afternoon she’d taken the replica of Turbinger to Usher and Usher law firm, hiding it from prying eyes until she gave it to Mr. Grimson in his office. From that moment on, John’s shop had been free from danger.
“You seem to be waiting for someone,” John remarked as she scanned the shop again.
“I’m just looking forward to Rory getting here so we can thank him together,” Liv lied.
The door opened, and a familiar face came through. John pointed. “Looks like that pretty boy is back to see you.”
Liv shook her head. “I call him Poo Poo Face, and I invited him because I need to ask him something. I hope that’s okay.”
John smiled and reached down to pet Pickles. “Fine by me. I’m going to go melt the cheese for the nachos. Do you want jalapenos?”
“What do you think?” she asked with a grin.
“I’ll make it double, as usual.” John trotted to the table of snacks, which was piled high with Cheetos and pizza and quesadillas. Really, all things involving cheese.
“How is the love of my life doing?” Rudolf asked, sidling up next to Liv.
“I haven’t been to the pet store lately to ask the guinea pigs,” Liv replied. “I’ll let you know when I do.”
“Oh, you scorn my heart with your constant rejections.” He clutched his chest, looking crestfallen.
“Have you made any progress?” Liv asked him as Plato jumped up on the closest workbench and blinked at them.
“I have,” Rudolf replied.
“Really? That’s great!” Liv said excitedly.
“Yes, I think so, too. Thanks for the enthusiasm.” Rudolf turned in a circle, showing off his burgundy tunic, his wings glamoured not to show.
“What am I looking at? And why are you making my eyes bleed?”
“It’s my newest tunic. Beautiful, isn’t it? You asked about my progress, and I just got this back from the tailor.”
Liv scoffed. “No, I was referring to the ring. Have you been able to uncover the memory tied to that?”
He deflated. “So you don’t like the tunic?”
“I think it would look better with your blood on it,” she threatened.
He shrank away, clutching his tunic protectively. “I’ve been working on it. Shouldn’t take me much longer, but nothing yet.”
“Much longer?” she questioned.
“Like a week or so,” he answered.
The door chimed again, and the person Liv had been longing to see entered alongside Clark. “Okay, then keep your word, Jerkface.”
“Where are you going?” Rudolf asked, sounding disappointed.
“Away,” she answered over her shoulder.
“But what will I do?” Rudolf asked.
“Play with the cat,” Liv replied. “He loves knock-knock jokes and when you do babytalk at him.”
“Oh, then I’m your man, little lynx,” Rudolf said, turning his attention to Plato. “Knockity-Knock.”
Plato looked unpleased as Liv squatted in front of Sophia. “You came,” she exclaimed.
The little magician wrapped her arms around Liv’s shoulders, hugging her tightly. “Of course. I wouldn’t let you down. Clark didn’t want to risk it, but I told him he was stuffy and mean and he loosened up.”
