The Book of Lies

by Melissa McShane

  I sat on the bed and turned my watch around and around on my wrist. No one had ever mentioned anything like this before. You either had an aegis, which made you capable of working magic, or you didn’t, and you were as nonmagical as a brick. Possibly more so, if a brick could be imbued with a ward. No, that wasn’t totally true; I remembered Lucia saying once that some humans had unnaturally enhanced senses, what we’d call second sight. So was I one of them? I certainly didn’t feel special. And seeing through illusions hadn’t been useful until I was part of the magical world, so it wasn’t as if I had some kind of superpower.

  I sighed and dragged my suitcase off the chair. I could ask Lucia about it tomorrow, or Malcolm tonight, if he came over. I hadn’t called him this morning, reasoning that he would want to spend time with his family, but I had a gift for him, and I sort of hoped he had a gift for me. Not that mine was all that exciting, because what do you get for your wealthy, successful boyfriend that he doesn’t already have? Still, I’d done my best, and the truth was I just wanted to spend time with him. Even if I couldn’t tell him what was troubling me.

  I’d been grateful to reach my parents’ house the night before, with its familiar comfort and the rituals of Christmas. I’d spent the entire drive scanning the streets, dark with snow, for the angular form of the invader. It knew who I was, knew my name, and I was certain if it wanted me dead, I’d be dead. I twitched every time the lights changed, terrified that something would rush at me while I was trapped between cars. But nothing had.

  It took most of Christmas Eve dinner (assorted cold cuts and cheeses on sandwich rolls, with cheeseball, crackers, and pickles, because even my mom got tired of cooking sometimes) for me to relax. The traditional viewing of A Christmas Story (not It’s a Wonderful Life, which my father insisted was not a Christmas movie) failed to keep my attention. I kept remembering what Stirlaugson and Ragsdale had told me, about the crisis magery faced, and the thought that I was privy to the secret made me want to run shouting it in the street. But I would keep my mouth shut, even though I wanted more than anything to share the burden with Malcolm and Judy and even Viv, for whom it wasn’t so personal.

  But I’d slept well, visions of Christmases past dancing in my head, and woke to a sparkling Christmas morning, and now everything was slightly at a remove, as if my heart and mind had come to an agreement that I’d go crazy if I couldn’t put it a little bit behind me. I couldn’t help the Board except by running Abernathy’s, and I couldn’t help anyone by fretting. Even if I was going to wonder, every time someone walked through the door, if it was an invader I was helping.

  I bumped upstairs with my suitcase and rolled it over to the front door. “Don’t take this as a sign that I’m impatient to leave,” I called out. Mom laughed from the kitchen. Dad was snoring on the couch with the paper lying on the floor next to him. I could see Jake through the front window, shoveling snow. “Was that his idea, or yours?” I asked.

  Mom came to join me at the window. “His idea. He’s become surprisingly responsible ever since he started applying to colleges. Meeting all those deadlines for applications, scholarships, financial aid…he’s done all the work.”

  “Impressive.” Weird. My little brother, getting ready to become an adult. “Where does he want to go?”

  “University of Oregon. He says it’s for the science program, but I know he just wants to stay close enough to home that he can get a real meal occasionally.”

  “I thought he wanted to play football.”

  “He’s practical enough to know he’s not good enough to play at a college level. He’ll always love football, but he wants to make a living.”

  “Wow. Responsible and practical.”

  “Just like you,” Mom said, patting my cheek.

  The barbecued turkey was incredible, moist and rich with juices. I ate more than I should have and was happy to crash in a turkey coma for an hour or two after the meal. Then I said my goodbyes and headed home. Home. I had a place of my own, a job I loved, a wonderful family, and the best boyfriend in the world. Sure, there were monsters infiltrating the organization meant to stop them, and I probably shouldn’t trust anyone except Viv, but for now, I was happy.

  I unpacked my suitcase and stowed it in the closet, hoping I wouldn’t need it again for a long, long time. Then I went into my living room and surveyed the Christmas decorations. They could stay up another day. This way Christmas didn’t have to end yet.

  I pulled out my phone and checked my texts. Nothing from Malcolm. I hesitated, then dialed his number. It went to voice mail so quickly I felt hollow inside. He was just busy with his family, that was all. He’d call soon.

  I lay on my couch with my phone resting on my stomach and watched the light grow dim as the sun set. The rosy glimmerings of the tiny lights around my windows turned the living room warm. I kicked my shoes off and stretched my toes. Even without Malcolm there, it was a beautiful evening.

  My phone rang. I snatched it up. “I’m sorry I’m calling so late,” Malcolm said. “May I come up?”

  “Are you downstairs? Yes, come up.” I ran down the hall and threw open the door to see Malcolm ascending the stairs. “Is it really snowing again?”

  “Not much.” He brushed off the shoulders of his overcoat, transferring the wrapped package he held from one hand to the other. I tried not to stare at it. “I would have come sooner, but my mother’s plans for the day went on longer than I’d anticipated.”

  “I don’t mind. I was with my family most of the day, too. Come in.”

  Malcolm shed his overcoat onto one of my living room chairs and set the package, something oblong wrapped in gold-figured paper, on its seat. He turned and took me in his arms, kissing me with an intensity that surprised and pleased me. “I thought of you all day,” he said. “Merry Christmas.”

  “Merry Christmas.”

  We stood, kissing, for several minutes until I pulled away and said, “I have something for you.”

  “As do I. Though I’m not sure how you’ll feel about it. It seemed perfect when I bought it two months ago, and now…”

  “Malcolm Campbell, are you embarrassed?”

  He smiled at me, his eyes twinkling. “Normally I would have bought you jewelry, but you couldn’t wear anything I got you publicly, not to mention you’re not a typical woman.”

  “I’m not sure if I should be insulted by that.”

  Malcolm grabbed my hand and pulled me back into his embrace. “Wonderful. Extraordinary. Beautiful. But never typical,” he said, punctuating his words with kisses. I laughed with joy.

  “Well, mine isn’t much. I ran into the same problem you did—what to give you that wouldn’t give us away.” I ran to my bedroom and came back with a flat box and a little square box, both of them wrapped in bright paper with snowmen on it.

  “You first,” Malcolm said. “I’ve worried about this all day.”

  “Malcolm, I will love whatever you give me.” I tore the wrapping off and opened the box, which was hinged along its long side. I gasped, then laughed. “It’s the Maltese Falcon.”

  “You like it?”

  “I love it. It will go perfectly next to the radio cabinet.” I ran a finger along its smooth matte-black surface, then was struck by a horrible thought. “This…isn’t the original, is it?”

  He laughed. “I didn’t think you’d want four million dollars’ worth of movie prop in your living room. This is a replica I found in Hollywood, in a little store that specializes in movie memorabilia. And your reaction is exactly what I’d hoped for.”

  “The fact that you didn’t lead with ‘I can’t afford four million dollars’ worth of movie prop’ makes me wonder about your net worth.”

  “Mmm. Do you love me more now you know just how filthy rich I am?”

  I set the box aside so I could put my arms around him. “I love you more because you love me enough to pick the perfect gift.” I kissed him quickly, then disentangled myself to hand him the larger of my boxes. “It
’s really not much. Actually, it’s a tie. I know it’s a cliché, but I thought…it’s something you could wear that no one would know came from me…”

  “It’s beautiful. You have excellent taste.”

  “I had some help from the man in the store, who was under the impression I was shopping for my father. Is that creepy at all?”

  Malcolm burst out laughing. “I’m not that much older than you, love.”

  “I certainly wasn’t thinking about my father when I picked it out. Anyway, that’s the one gift. It’s in case the second one isn’t as meaningful as I hope.”

  Malcolm raised his eyebrows. “Now I’m curious.” He accepted the little box and opened it. “A key,” he said, his tone of voice inquiring.

  “Yeah. Um. Specifically, the key to this apartment.” His face had gone utterly expressionless, and I stammered, “See, I know the only reason you don’t just walk in here whenever you feel like it is politeness, because you’re a steel magus and that lock is meaningless to you, and I wanted you to know, you know, that you’re welcome here. Even though we can’t be together openly. My home is yours, whenever you need it.”

  Malcolm slowly closed the box and set it down. “That,” he said quietly, “may be the best gift I’ve ever received.”

  “I hoped you wouldn’t think it was stupid.”

  “Not stupid. Not at all.” He smiled at me, and my heart did a little flip-flop. “Helena,” he said, laying his hand along my cheek, “I love you, and when I’m with you, wherever we are, it feels like home.”

  I put my arms around his neck. “That’s exactly how I feel,” I said, and pulled him close for a kiss.

  Acknowledgments

  My thanks to Bryan and Jana Brown, for providing the menu for the Grandison Hotel, and to Jacob Proffitt for reading this book in draft and giving great feedback.

  About the Author

  Melissa McShane is the author of more than twenty-five fantasy novels, including the novels of Tremontane, the first of which is Servant of the Crown; The Extraordinaries series, beginning with Burning Bright; and The Book of Secrets, first book in The Last Oracle series. She lives in the shelter of the mountains out West with her husband, four children and a niece, and three very needy cats. She wrote reviews and critical essays for many years before turning to fiction, which is much more fun than anyone ought to be allowed to have.

  You can visit her at her website www.melissamcshanewrites.com for more information on other books and upcoming releases.

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