Because Sarah wasn’t asking for my accompaniment as a librarian. She could have walked across the garden and summoned Evelyn for that. Sarah wanted my help because I was a witch.
A witch with an over-protective warder. I wasn’t an idiot. I knew that I should call David, that I should ask him to accompany us as we tracked down the magical books that Maurice Richardson had stolen.
But I also knew that such a phone call would shut the door on the difficult topic I’d finally managed to broach with David. I would be handing over my independence without another whisper. I would be admitting that I could not act without him, that I could not be a witch or a librarian without his interference.
I took a deep breath, torn by indecision. On the one hand, I could hear David telling me that I was being ridiculous, that he was honored to stand by me no matter what I chose to do, that he wouldn’t have it any other way.
On the other hand, I felt like I was giving up, forfeiting the fight for my independence before I’d truly begun. There was a reason I wanted to try this library consulting thing. I needed to spread my wings. I needed to test myself.
Besides, we couldn’t be heading into anything truly dangerous if Sarah was ducking her own male protectors. And I’d take Neko with me, so it wasn’t like I was truly alone. And if push came to shove, I could always reach out to David, could always bring him in at the last minute.
And really, how much could go wrong if I had a sphinx—a real-life, vampire-tested sphinx—beside me? Sarah and I had certainly managed to rein in James Morton in the basement of the courthouse before he could harm me.
I squared my shoulders and said, “Well, let’s get what we need from downstairs.” I led the way to the basement before Neko could gainsay me. Before I could lose my nerve.
It took me longer than I expected to find the necessary things. With my belongings semi-packed, it seemed that I was missing half the tools for every working that came to mind.
Muttering to myself, I hunted for a book on the subtle interaction of herbs and crystals. I knew there was one somewhere—it used to be on that shelf, right beside the couch. “Neko?” I finally asked, when I tried and discarded the fifth moss-green, Moroccan-bound, gold-stamped volume.
“Don’t look at me,” he said. “I haven’t had anything to do with packing.”
“No,” I said acidly. “You haven’t.”
He managed an angelic smile, so I decided to take another magical tack. “Why don’t we start with runes?” I collected a silk-lined leather sack. Before I could lose my nerve, I added a silver flask and the smallest of the boxes that held my extensive crystal collection. For good measure, I picked up a couple of elementary spellbooks as well. “Okay,” I said. “Let’s go back to the kitchen. There’s more light there.”
Sarah obligingly reached for the runes as I juggled my bounty. “These feel like Scrabble tiles,” she said.
“Close.” I laughed. “They aren’t ordinary letters. But the pieces are carved out of rowan wood, and the symbols are painted with vineblack.”
“The bag looks brand new,” she said, as we settled around the kitchen table. Neko was already clearing away the remnants of our cupcake feast. Without my instructing him, he produced a length of white silk from one of the nearby drawers. After spreading it on the table, he sprinkled it with purifying rainwater from the silver flask. I nodded my appreciation before responding to Sarah’s implied question.
“The bag is new, and the runes inside. There were several sets in the basement when I first came across the collection. But we had some … problems last summer, and all my runes were destroyed. These rowan ones are the first replacements I’ve found.” I turned to my familiar. “Neko? Can you go out to the garden? I’ll need some radish leaves, and cuttings from the vervain and rosemary.” He nodded, as if I asked him to harvest an herbal salad every night, and then he slipped out the cottage’s front door.
I dreaded the thought of leaving the Peabridge garden. Its colonial plantings held almost everything I required for my herb magic. Over the past three years, I had memorized where each plant grew. My powers had matured with the very leaves and stems and roots that I collected. I knew the Peabridge grounds in a way that I could never learn another plot of earth. I couldn’t stay put here—Evelyn would see to that. But if I lived with Melissa I would be close enough to visit, to … borrow from the Peabridge whenever I needed to complete a working.
I shook my head. I wasn’t going to solve the puzzle of my next home that night. I looked up into Sarah’s patient green eyes. “Sorry,” I said. “I lost my train of thought there for a moment.”
“I know how that can happen,” she said. “What can I do to help here?”
I settled the bag of runes on the table. “There are lots of ways to work with these symbols,” I said. “Some people use them to explain past events, or to predict the future.” I nodded toward the depleted box of cupcakes on the counter, and I said with a smile, “Sort of like tarot cards. But I have something else in mind.”
I plunged my hand into the sack. I’d had the runes for less than a year, but they were already attuned to me. I could feel their magic humming against my fingertips, like curious minnows in a pond. Each tile had a different energy, a different vibration. I sifted through them, discarding square after square until I felt the one I needed.
I plucked it out of the bag and displayed it on the palm of my hand. The rowan surface was a medium brown, polished to a low sheen. The vineblack ink was dark, each line crisp in forming a single character. A simple arrow, pointing up.
“This is Tiwaz,” I said. “It represents the sky, and knowledge. Judgment and legal authority.”
“Like the court materials Richardson has taken,” Sarah said.
“Exactly.”
Neko chose that moment to return with the herbs from the garden. He had selected perfect specimens, broad rounds of bright green from the radishes, dusky fingerlings of rosemary, a half-dozen spikes of flowering vervain. Spread out on the silk cloth, the leaves looked like carefully sculpted jewels.
“Thank you,” I said.
Neko acknowledged my words with an inclination of his head. My familiar might be the king of snark during ordinary conversation, but once he was involved in a magical working, he became focused, as intense as a cat stalking prey.
Before I could ask, Neko collected a spotless silver bowl from the one kitchen cabinet that was always organized. He set it in the precise center of the silk cloth.
I surveyed our tools. Rune. Herbs. Rainwater. That left the core of our working, the body that would receive the magic we were about to raise.
I opened my box of gemstones. There they were—a half dozen strands of tiger’s eye, simple bracelets with a dozen beads on each. The striations of the eyes were perfectly matched, bolstering the stones’ ability to focus power and courage. They gave any wearer grace and the ability to see clearly, without illusion.
All they needed was a little magical activation.
“Ready?” I asked, glancing at my familiar and the sphinx. Neko seemed to have coiled inside himself; he was very still as he pressed close to my side. Beside him, Sarah looked nervous, more than half afraid. I smiled, trying to put her at her ease. Then I took a deep breath and touched my forehead, offering up my thoughts to the magical working. I brushed my fingertips across my throat, offering up my voice. I settled my hand on my chest and offered up my heart.
And without wasting any words, I placed the Tiwaz rune squarely in front of me. I reached for the broadest of the radish leaves, a near-perfect circle of veined green. Using the heel of my palm, I crushed the leaf into the rune, pressing until I could feel the smooth lines of the arrow through the greenery.
When I was certain that the radish had been infused with Tiwaz, with lawful justice, I added a layer of rosemary. The piney scent of the herb permeated my kitchen, and I heard Ophelia’s famous line from Hamlet: “There’s rosemary. That’s for remembrance.” I pushed the distraction a
way. Better that I concentrate on the here and now. On magic.
I pressed the rosemary, leaning heavily onto the rune. By the time I repeated the process with vervain, my kitchen was filled with a heady scent, with the golden aroma of fresh-cut grass.
Breathing deeply, I moved the rune into the silver bowl, making sure that all of the bruised herbs accompanied it. I added rainwater carefully, taking care that none splashed out of the container.
Using my stained palm, I stirred the liquid four times, once for each of the cardinal points of the compass. In the silver bowl, the water seemed as bright as liquid emeralds. I cupped my dripping hand over the container, and then I lowered my face to my palm. Inhaling the scent of magic, I whispered a spell.
Rune of justice, rune of law,
Let rainwater power draw.
Herbs protect us, green’ry share
All your strength’gainst worldly care.
I felt the power I had raised, thrumming within the silver bowl. It wasn’t anything mighty, anything terrible. I had purposely woven a gentle spell, a condensing and strengthening of the magic inherent in the elements before me. I did not want to contort the pure natural power; I did not want to turn it into anything unnatural.
And, a tiny whisper nagged at the back of my mind, I did not want to work a spell so monstrously strong that David would be summoned. I was a witch. A strong and independent woman. I didn’t need my warder watching over me for something as simple as basic magical protection.
Forcing all of my attention back to the silver bowl, I held out my hand. “Neko?” I asked.
Of course, my familiar understood my magical need. He passed me the first of the tiger’s eye bracelets. I lowered the tawny stones into the water, taking care that every surface was submerged. One swirl through the potion, a second, a third, and a fourth.
When I fished out the stones, they shimmered with more than light. They had absorbed the protective magic, enfolded it, incorporated it into their being. I smiled tightly and tied the bracelet onto Sarah’s waiting wrist, next to her hematite band.
I hurried on to soak Neko’s strand before securing the stones to his hand. I added a third set, then accepted my familiar’s assistance as he fastened them tight against the pulse point below my thumb.
He handed me a fourth strand, just as I was stepping back from the silver bowl. “What do we need that for?” I asked.
“David?” he asked. “Your warder? The man who keeps you safe when you work magic?”
I forced a laugh as I passed my hand over the silver bowl. With a few whispered words, I released all the magical protection of runes and herbs and rainwater. The outflow of energy shuddered down my spine, and I swallowed hard before I said, “We don’t need David for this.”
Neko barely swallowed a yelp. “You’re not serious!”
“We’re going to collect a few overdue library books,” I said. “No need to get him involved.”
There it was again—that one raised eyebrow, that carefully pruned look of shock. Neko didn’t even bother criticizing me with words.
“We are only going to help Sarah,” I insisted. “If she thought this was dangerous, would she do it?”
In search of moral support, I cast a quick glance at the sphinx. She was running her fingers over the tiger’s eyes, trying to read them as if they were Braille. She seemed startled to be drawn into our conversation, and it took her a moment to say, “I’m not bringing my own sphinx mentor. Or getting the vampires involved. This is a private matter.”
My familiar did not look the least bit appeased. “Ladies, I don’t think —”
“Fine, Neko,” I interrupted. My temper was flaring hot. I felt a little like a misbehaving teenager, caught sneaking out of the house after midnight. I gritted my teeth and thrust down tendrils of shame. “If that’s the way you feel, then just go home. I’m sure that Roger’s waiting up for you. Sarah and I will do just fine on our own.”
I watched the conflict play out on my familiar’s face. After working together for three years, I could read every thought that crossed his mind, as clearly as if the words were written in fancy Olde English lettering on one of the parchment pages still sitting on the shelves in my basement.
Technically, Neko was now released. He had his witch’s permission to depart a magical working.
Of course, he wanted to go to Roger. Roger represented fun and frolic, the relaxing parts of Neko’s life that had nothing to do with his magical bonds to me.
But Neko did enjoy magical workings. And, in this particular instance, I knew he was intrigued. He wanted to know how the tiger’s eye would work—I’d never fashioned a spell that combined the power of runes and herbs and gemstones before. He wanted to learn what waited for us in Maurice Richardson’s home. He wanted to explore a new branch of magic, the power of a sphinx that neither of us had ever seen in action.
And in the end, all of that curiosity won out. Neko shrugged and returned the fourth strand of beads to the box. He said, “Just remember. You’re the one who’s going to have to explain this in the morning.”
The warning shot determination straight up my spine. David was not my boss. I did not report to him. I made my voice icy as I retorted, “I’m not at all afraid of that.”
But I should have been. I should have been very afraid. And I should have remembered exactly what curiosity did to the cat.
CHAPTER 6
SARAH
MY FINGERS CLOSED over the door handle of the taxi. The driver craned his neck to look at the huge white house. “Go ahead. I’ll just wait to make sure you get in safe and sound.”
Great. We had managed to find the most helpful cabbie in Washington. I touched my thumb to my coral ring for calm and forced my voice to sound bright and steady. “No need. I’ve got my keys right here.” I jangled my own ring of house keys, pretending they would open the door to Maurice Richardson’s sanctum.
For just a moment, I thought my ruse would fail. I wished that I had some of James’s cinnamon water, that I could exercise a vampire’s memory-erasing control over humans. Then, the cabbie shrugged and said, “Whatever.”
I passed him money for the fare, making sure that I included an absolutely average tip. I didn’t want this guy to remember us, for any reason. I thanked him and waited for him to shove the car into gear. He seemed to take forever making his way around the great arch of the circular driveway. Only when the red tail lights were out of sight did I sigh in relief and turn to face Jane and Neko.
“It’s huge,” the witch said, eyeing the mansion.
“And that chintz is atrocious,” Neko said, nodding toward the faded cushion on a glider that filled the right half of the porch.
I suppressed a shudder. The last time I’d seen that chintz, I’d been exhausted, half-mad with worry for the single vampire I’d been sworn to protect, the one who had nearly given his life to rescue me. Six months before. Six months of fighting to define myself, as a woman, as a court clerk, as a sphinx.
And it had all come down to this.
I needed to prove to myself that I was worthy of the title sphinx, that I could reclaim the Eastern Empire’s resources without a man—or two—to bail me out. And if I’d enlisted the help of a woman and a cat, well, that was my own business. Who knew what I might have done on my own, if Chris hadn’t been so stinting with my training?
Richardson’s home loomed before me. Three brick steps led to a massive door. Columns marched on either side, supporting a balcony and a Greek Revival roof. Black shutters sagged beside every window, as if they’d grown too heavy during the house’s neglect. Leaves skittered across the porch in a sudden breeze, and I rubbed at my arms, fighting to push away goosebumps.
“Come on,” I said. “It’s not like there’s going to be any welcoming committee.”
I led the way up the stairs. If this house had been the scene of a mundane crime, the door would have been plastered with crime scene tape. Black letters would have shouted from fluorescent yellow,
giving us all an excuse to leave.
But Maurice Richardson had been beyond the touch of ordinary justice, beyond the reach of Law and Order or CSI.
I caught Jane staring at a marble stepping stone, set firmly in front of the door. She traced her hands along the rocky edge, nodding solemnly. “There are protective spells here. Strong ones.”
Neko edged up beside her. I could not tell if he was giving comfort or requesting it. Or maybe their witchy magic just required that sort of proximity.
In any case, the familiar took care not to step on the marble. Instead, he reached out a hand toward the door, palm flat, as if he were smoothing a rough surface. He nodded solemnly, coursing over the entire oaken surface. He moved so slowly, so methodically, that he caught me by surprise when he reached out for the brass latch.
“Wait!” I called, even as he drew back, hissing as if his fingers had been burned.
“Hecate’s Breath!” he swore.
Jane was quick to catch his hand, to roll her tiger’s eye bracelet over his flesh.
Neko hissed between clenched teeth, “Your Maurice Richardson isn’t expecting any visitors.”
I frowned. “Not Richardson,” I said. “The Eastern Empire. Chris, my mentor. They’ve sealed the premises until Richardson’s trial.”
Jane took a step away. “Wait a minute. We’re not just breaking into the bad guy’s home? We’re going against the entire Eastern Empire?”
I winced. When she phrased it that way… “I represent the Eastern Empire,” I said, trying to sound confident. “I’m an officer of the court, here to retrieve property that rightly belongs to the Empire.”
Neko whined a little in the back of his throat. Jane rubbed one hand down his arm, whispering something that she clearly meant to be soothing. I needed to regain control over the situation, or I was going to be stranded here, alone, in no time.
Throwing my shoulders back with a nonchalance I did not feel, I reached into my tote bag. My fingers were drawn to the hilt of my Sekhmet’s Key. The magical implement seemed to shift when I touched it, to melt beneath my hand.
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