Love, Lies, and Hocus Pocus Betrayal Page 9

  George Dee, an Englishman of considerable reputation and property, looked as he had the last time she had seen him at his manor house in Aylesbury, England. His steel-grey hair was, perhaps, beginning to go white around the edges, and his narrow face might have had an extra wrinkle or two, but his eyes were still steady and piercing, and his jaw was firm as he gazed up out of the mirror in Madam Barrington’s hand.

  “As full of mischief as ever, though at the moment he is the least of my worries. My little brother, Jamie, has started his wizard training. He’s as wild and foolish as I imagine Sebastian was at his age.”

  “Ah, a new student, Ethel? I had heard those days were behind you?”

  Lily wasn’t sure, but she could have sworn Madam Barrington rolled her eyes. “I had hoped they were, but this boy was in desperate need of a firm hand.” She made no mention of Seth Humphrey, so Lily didn’t say anything either. Madam Barrington’s business was Madam Barrington’s business.

  The image of George Dee nodded. “A worthy cause, then. I wish you the best of luck. Younglings were never my forte.”

  Lily smiled to herself as she imagined Jamie’s indignant reaction at being called a “youngling.”

  “It is a trial, but I have dealt with worse. Now, let us get to the point, George. I know it is late in England, and we do not wish to inconvenience you more than necessary. There have been disturbing reports of demonic activity in Atlanta. It seems unlikely it would be connected to our enemies, knowing the innate dislike between wizards and witches. However, it cannot be ruled out. Have you had any news, anything at all? Even something seemingly unconnected or inconsequential?”

  Mr. Dee pursed his lips, silent as he considered. Lily realized her hands were clenched so hard on the back of Madam Barrington’s chair that her knuckles were turning white. She released her grip and laced her fingers together in front of her, trying not to fidget.

  “Nothing that I would deem overly suspicious, certainly. There has been no word or sightings of Mr. LeFay and his companion, though I suppose it is possible they have both changed their appearance. I assume the elder LeFays remain ignorant of his whereabouts?”

  “To the best of my knowledge. Both seem resigned to their son’s misdeeds and communicate willingly, though I have my misgivings about Ursula. Were her son to come to her for aid, I doubt she would tell us. But he gains no advantage by returning home. He moved his entire workshop to a separate location, which was later raided by the FBI. We collected the bulk of his notes and smaller devices before the mundanes arrived, of course. They are stored safely in the Basement. That which the FBI confiscated is being held as evidence and will most likely remain in the FBI’s hands indefinitely, as their case cannot be closed without a suspect to prosecute.”

  “Hmm…” Mr. Dee rubbed his chin, eyes narrowed in thought. “Though it should do little harm where it is, I believe we would do well to recover the items if at all possible. I am not comfortable allowing any magical material, no matter how innocuous, to remain in government hands for long.”

  “Agreed. I shall look into it.”

  There was another long moment of silence in which Mr. Dee seemed lost in thought. Lily resisted the urge to say something, knowing the elderly wizard would scowl at any interruption. Finally, he spoke again, saying, “The only other news which I deem significant would be a recent inquiry at the British Museum. The Dees, as you may imagine, have long been patrons, and we are kept abreast of any magically related developments. I believe you are professionally acquainted with Mr. Habersham, of the conservation department?”

  “Yes, though it has been many years since we last spoke,” Madam Barrington said. “We exchanged correspondence when the museum was arranging the loan of several ancient Babylonian artifacts to Emory University’s Clay Museum nearly two decades ago. It was easier to protect magical items back then. Not nearly as many mundane contraptions getting in the way.”

  “Well, he informed me the other day that inquiries have come into the curator’s office about a particular Mesopotamian artifact, some sort of royal signet ring dating to the twenty-first century BC. It would not have seemed odd, except that several completely unconnected collectors have made similar requests, each describing the same item, within so many weeks. Yet no such item could be found in any records, at least not from that time period. It might be nothing, but perhaps a call to your contacts at the Hilprecht Museum would be wise. They may have heard of such an artifact and might know a reason for this sudden interest.”

  Lily’s ears perked up at the mention of the University of Pennsylvania’s museum of archeology and anthropology. After that fateful incident with the Tablet of Eridu, she had done a little digging in her eduba and the Basement’s archives to find out more about the museum’s history, seeing as it possessed one of the largest collections of Mesopotamian artifacts in the western world. It had been founded in 1887 by Hermann Hilprecht, a famous German-American Assyriologist who had helped establish American presence in Mesopotamian archeology in the late nineteenth century. Of course, what his university superiors hadn’t known was that he was also a wizard, and very keen on discovering and preserving magical artifacts buried by the sands of time. Lily hadn’t been able to find out more than that besides the museum’s general history, but she suspected it was quite a hub of magical learning—at least insofar as anywhere could be called a hub, with so few wizards left. Lily wondered what kind of magical artifacts they kept warded and hidden there.

  Madam Barrington’s face was pensive and one finger tapped the desk in a slow rhythm before she finally gave a firm nod in response to Mr. Dee’s suggestion. “It would not hurt. And, to be thorough, we will search the Basement archives as well to see if there is any mention of such an artifact, magical or otherwise. While it may or may not be connected to John Faust, it is worth investigating. The fewer artifacts in the hands of private collectors, the better.”

  “Certainly. There is—” a voice somewhere behind Mr. Dee interrupted him, and he paused, turning to observe the newcomer. Soon the face of Elizabeth Blackwell, George Dee’s daughter and Sebastian’s grandmother, appeared behind the seated wizard and she laid a hand on his shoulder.

  “Hello, Ethel, Lily, so good to see you both. It has been too long. Everyone is in good health there in America, I trust?”

  “Indeed, though Lily’s younger brother may not remain so for much longer, should he fail to cultivate a healthy respect for the dangers of magic.”

  “I didn’t know you had any wizard siblings, Lily. How wonderful. How old is he?”

  “Barely sixteen. His older brother and sisters are my stepsiblings. He’s my only half-sibling.” That wasn't quite true, considering Lily’s other ten or so half-siblings by her father. But that wasn’t exactly a topic she felt like discussing.

  “Well, it is good that you have a brother to be close to and bond with. My own brother…” she paused, eyes flicking down to her father, whose face and posture had gone even more stiff than usual. “My own brother was taken from us far too early in life,” she continued softly, “and I have learned to treasure the family I have left more dearly than anything in this world.”

  Lily nodded, feeling guilty. As much as she loved Jamie, she had made little effort recently to spend time with him. Not that she spent much time with anyone, but still. He was her only half sibling—well, the only one she could ever hope to be close to, anyway. The thought of Trista and all those other poor children her father had taken made her feel sick, so she refocused on Elizabeth, who had continued speaking.

  “It is difficult, when time and space make loved ones distant. I honestly envy you, being near to Sebastian on a regular basis. He has grown into such a wonderful young man. I hope you have given a good deal of thought to…to what I told you last fall. I wish you both the very best. Always.” Elizabeth smiled warmly, which Lily barely saw because she was too busy examining the details of the desk’s worn surface and trying not to blush.

  She did, indeed
, remember Elizabeth’s words. They had been seared into her brain, and she had spent just as many nights dreading them as treasuring them: “You have the power to save him, or utterly destroy him.” The knowledge kept her awkwardly torn between hope and caution—wanting to do the former, yet terrified of doing the latter.

  “I—I do my best. Thank you, Elizabeth. I’ll be sure to let Sebastian know you said hello.”

  “Very well, then, Eliza,” Mr. Dee said before his daughter could get going again. “If we are done passing cryptic messages, it is high time for us to retire. I shall be on the lookout, Ethel, for any more news, especially related to witches. One can never be too careful when it comes to those who meddle with demons. Miss Singer, if I might be so bold, perhaps you could remind my great-grandson about the gift I entrusted him with last fall. It is not, after all, a simple ornament, and he should take advantage of what it has to offer. The Dee family has had its share of witches, both in it and set against it. That ring can do much more than protect against wizard spells, if properly configured. Perhaps you or Ethel could assist him with it.”

  “I’ll pass on the message, of course. But—”

  “Goodnight to you both.”

  Lily barely had time to murmur a polite goodbye before the mirror went blank, reverting back to its normal, reflective surface. Mind filled with even more to worry about, she circled back around to the other side of Madam Barrington’s desk and sank slowly into a nearby chair. Her mentor, too, looked grave, and after carefully returning the mirror to its drawer, she folded her hands over her stomach and stared at her desk, eyes distant.

  “I don’t suppose ‘no news is good news’ would be much of a comfort,” Lily offered, unable to dredge up a smile.

  Madam Barrington sighed and reached for her cane, standing slowly before making her way around her desk. “There is much to be thankful of. We are all well and accounted for, at least. And the trials we face are not wholly without benefit. For as a beloved and humble man once said, much like winter prepares the earth for spring, so do afflictions prepare the soul for glory.”

  “I—I’m not sure I understand,” Lily said, rising, but resisting the urge to offer an arm for her mentor to lean on.

  “Difficulties make us stronger, my dear, though at the moment lack of rest is making me decidedly out of sorts. Would you mind telling your brother that we shall have to fit in his lesson tomorrow? I am too worn out to deal with him this evening.”

  “Of course, Ethel. Do you need help getting to your room?”

  “This cane is all the help I have patience to tolerate. But thank you.”

  Her mentor may have been stubborn and independent, but that did not mean Lily couldn’t extend a small courtesy. Gathering her carpet bag, she hurried to the office door and held it open.

  “Thank you, Lily. Oh, before I forget again, what was that ring the young Mr. Humphrey was wearing? I assume you are familiar with it, based on your reaction? Even from a brief examination, I could tell that it is a very powerful artifact. I am quite curious to know where he acquired it.”

  “Oh, that? Well, um…Sebastian gave it to him. I don’t know where Sebastian got it, though.” Lily shrugged, hoping she wasn’t getting her friend into trouble.

  “Sebastian? My nephew?” Madam Barrington seemed shocked. “When did you and he happen to meet Mr. Humphrey, and what in the world possessed my nephew to give away such an artifact?”

  “Well, it’s a bit of a long story, but it all happened when I first met Sebastian. Remember a few years ago when you sent me to get a collection of books from a wizard’s estate sale? There was a, um, mixup, and it turned out Seth had the books. He explained how his mother wouldn’t let him study magic, and Sebastian gave him the ring so he could at least work on mastering his Enkinim, though we made him promise to wait until he was eighteen to start practicing spells. Sebastian called it his ‘Ring of Cacophony.’ A silly name, of course, but you know Sebastian. It could render the wearer silent in his movements and speech. I never took a close look at it, so as far as I know, that is all it does.”

  “Far from it.” Madam Barrington shook her head in wonder as she continued past Lily and out into the hall. “That ring does much more than such simple parlor tricks, I am sure of it. Its crafting was old, far older than could be expected of any trinkets Sebastian might have acquired on his own. That is, unless…”

  Lily followed her mentor to the foot of the stairs, where they paused.

  “Unless?” she prompted.

  “Unless it is a Blackwell heirloom that Peter did not mention…” She trailed off again, then shook her head. “The family possessed several items of interest, but their whereabouts were never properly documented. With both Thomas and Alison deceased, it is difficult to know where each may have ended up.”

  Lily thought of the lugal-nam with a twinge of guilt, remembering how Sebastian had smashed it to pieces. It had been his right, she supposed—and a wise decision, considering the circumstances. But still, the memory of destroying such an ancient and priceless artifact was painful. “Well, I doubt Seth has any clue what it actually does. The silence activation is manual, not spoken, which was the only reason Sebastian was able to use it.”

  “I agree. We shall have to see if my new student will…lend it to us, so that we may study it.” Based on her mentor’s expression, Lily could clearly see she disapproved of such an unskilled wizard possessing an ancient artifact—and a Blackwell family heirloom, no less. Lily happened to agree, but there wasn’t much they could do. Sebastian had given it to him, after all.

  “I’m sure we can figure something out.”

  “It is to be hoped, certainly. For the time being, have a good evening, Lily. Please pass on my regrets to Freda and, of course, Mr. Singer.”

  Lily nodded, smiling to hear her little brother called ‘Mr. Singer.’ “I’ll let you know as soon as Sebastian gets in touch. I’m surprised he hasn’t called by now, since he seemed in a hurry to get his hands on those files. Perhaps paperwork requests and acquisitions move more slowly for the FBI on the weekend.”

  Madam Barrington nodded and headed upstairs, one slow step at a time. Lily turned away from the sight, guilt constricting her heart.

  It took little time to collect her cat and say goodbye to her family. While both were disappointed she could not stay longer, Jamie was still too sore at her to do more than grumble, and Freda was too understanding to do more than give her daughter a tight hug.

  “I love you, honey. You be safe out there, you hear? And tell Sebastian to stop pussyfooting around. He’s a fine young man and ought to be sweeping you off your feet.”

  “Mother!” Lily looked around, hoping her little brother wasn’t paying attention. “It’s not like that. I mean, I’m not like that. I mean—”

  “Shhhh.” Freda put a finger to her daughter’s lips. “Trust a mother’s intuition, won’t you? That boy has had some serious trauma in his past. Trying to open up to intimacy, regardless if it’s with family, friends, or otherwise, is difficult under those circumstances. Believe me, I know. Give him some grace. If he is too afraid of messing up to open up, you’ll never get anywhere.”

  Lily nodded, too full of emotion to respond. She simply gave her mother’s warm, soft hand a gentle squeeze, and slipped out the door.

  “Fine words, Mrs. Singer,” she heard her cat say as he lingered on the doorstep. “I hope she takes them from you, because she seems stubbornly oblivious to my own words of wisdom.”

  “Goodbye, Mr. Kipling, it was nice to see you too,” Freda replied, responding to the simple meow that had reached her ears. She gave a final wave as Sir Kipling exited the house, trotting to catch up to Lily, then she shut the door.

  “Humph,” the cat grumbled as they headed down the porch steps. “It’s Sir Kipling, not Mr. Kipling. Why can’t anyone get it right? I am doomed to be perpetually misunderstood and misaddressed.”

  “How very tragic. Life is hard, isn’t it?” Lily said, a bit of a s
mile tugging at her lips.

  “Absolutely miserable. But we cats are used to such hardship in this dreary life full of vacuums and cheap cat litter that sticks to our feet. So, onward and forward, as they say.”

  Lily didn’t reply as they got into her car and headed home. She would have been content to stay right where she was, thank you very much. Change was always such a nuisance, and considering what she’d already been through, the future was far too frightening a prospect for her taste.

  She didn’t hear from Sebastian all day Sunday. Despite her nerves being on edge, she was actually grateful, being in desperate need of some alone time safe in her own little bubble. By the end of the day, her house was spotless, Sir Kipling had been bathed and brushed—much to his annoyance—all of her books had been freshly rearranged alphabetically within topical sections, and piles of scones and muffins now covered every surface of her kitchen. She calculated it would take Sebastian at least three visits to get through them all. She also took time to order more tea online, as she was getting low on some of her basic blends. Normally she preferred to buy her leaf locally at a lovely little tea parlor down on Highland Avenue, but even the thought of having to interact with an actual person exhausted her.

  Monday was business as usual at the library, except that there was still no word from Sebastian. She was distracted the entire day, expecting Sebastian’s call at any time. It made sense that the FBI wouldn’t be as responsive to paperwork requests over the weekend, but considering how anxious Richard had been, she’d expected him to be on it first thing at the beginning of the work week.

  By Tuesday, she was getting twitchy at the wait and had to resist the urge to pick up her phone and call Sebastian. She didn’t want to crowd him—he had already seemed so on edge. Plus, he had promised to call. She could trust him. He would call.

  By Wednesday, her nerves were frayed and she had started snapping at coworkers and students. After her assistant, Penny, asked her for the third time if she were quite all right, she finally hid in her office for the rest of the day to keep from biting people’s heads off. It seemed unreasonable that Richard would not have gotten back to Sebastian by now. Maybe Sebastian’s phone had broken—again? But then, surely he would have stopped by the library or her apartment to talk in person? It was what she would have done to prevent undue worry, had their places been reversed. But that was not how Sebastian’s mind worked. It irritated her to no end, but she tried not to let it get to her. She barely slept that night, not even Sir Kipling’s purrs able to quiet the beginnings of worry whispering in her head as she lay awake, staring across the dark room at the tux jacket still hanging from her closet door.