The gathering fell quiet.
“Are we sure this is the right girl?” murmured a voice toward the back. “This one doesn’t seem very brave.”
Behind her, she heard Gaius drawl, “Come on, Locke, you have to give. I have the cutest girlfriend ever.”
“While a man must always defend his own lady,” William’s voice came back dryly, “you have a persuasive argument for your side.”
That made Rachel blush even more, but it also made her smile.
The young woman in the business suit holding the wooden plaque tried again. “Miss Rachel Griffin…”
From behind Rachel, another voice cut across the chamber, old and dry but powerful, a voice Rachel had not heard in several years.
“That’s The Lady Rachel Griffin to you!”
Rachel spun around, her hands still in front of her eyes. She lowered them quickly.
Great-Aunt Nimue, the sister of her beloved grandfather, stood in the doorway, her withered hand resting on the silver jackal-head of her cane. She was a tall and stately woman dressed in black and purple. White streaks marked her once-midnight hair, which came to a sharp widow’s peak in the middle of her high forehead. She was nearly two hundred years old, having outlived her older brother, her younger brother, and her husband, the great American industrialist, Steel Moth—the latter two having both lost their lives during the Battle of Detroit. Her eyes were deep and keen, her expression imperious and evaluating, as she took in the shyness of her diminutive great-niece.
“Mother.” Iron Moth inclined his head.
“Grandmama,” acknowledged Blackie, with a tip of his hat.
Rachel raised her chin and curtsied. “Great-Aunt Nimue!”
“Child,” Lady Nimue Griffin Moth walked slowly, leaning on the cane, “stand up straight. Don’t hunch. If someone speaks to you, face them courteously. We are not ostriches.”
Rachel straightened her posture even more.
“Better.” Lady Nimue’s keen gaze took in Gaius. She gestured at him with her cane. “Who’s this?”
“That’s my boyfriend.” The words were out of Rachel’s mouth before she realized that she might have chosen wiser ones.
Great-Aunt Nimue’s eyebrows leapt upward. Her gaze raked over Rachel’s tiny form. “You hardly look past eleven, though I know you must be older than that, since you were ten last time I saw you, at my brother’s funeral. Surely, you cannot yet be eighteen?”
“No, Ma’am! I am only thirteen.”
“Have things changed so much back home in England that they are now presenting young women at the tender age of thirteen?”
Rachel felt the blood coursing through her face. “No, Ma’am.”
“Then this cannot be your boyfriend,” Great-Aunt Nimue drew herself up, “for no Griffin would be so gauche as to form an attachment before her coming out party!”
Lady Nimue Griffin Moth’s voice snapped crisply, her imposing presence commanding the entire chamber, but there was humor in her eyes. Rachel had the distinct impression that her great-aunt was more pleased with her great-niece than otherwise.
Pressing her lips together, Rachel wisely said nothing.
“Miss…Lady Rachel,” the young woman tried yet again, “Will you accept your commendation?”
Encouraged by the presence of her great-aunt, Rachel bravely stepped forward and accepted the plaque. Upon it was engraved her name and for services rendered beyond the call of duty. Another young woman gave her the fragrant bouquet of white and lavender roses.
“Thank you.” Rachel curtsied again.
Iron Moth regarded her seriously. “We regret that we cannot make this award public, Rachel. Our elite Rapid Response Team—” he gestured to the young, athletic people surrounding Mr. Locke and himself, “—are a company secret, and our presence in Tunisia was known to only a few. Our gratitude is no less for its lack of public display.”
“Oh, no! This is ever so nice!” squeaked Rachel, who had no wish to be made much of in public. This crowd was more than big enough already.
“How are Devon and Falconridge?” Great-Aunt Nimue inquired, referring as always to Rachel’s father and brother by their titles rather than their given names.
“Very well, thank you.”
“And Laurel and Amber?”
“Sandra,” Rachel prompted. Great-Aunt Nimue always misremembered the name of her eldest grand-niece.
“I won’t ask after your mother,” Great-Aunt Nimue announced, tapping the marble floor twice with her cane. “I abhor that woman.”
“You disapprove of your brother’s son marrying an Unwary? An Asian? Or is it that she was a member of the middle class?” Gaius asked boldly.
Lady Nimue turned and fixed him with her hawk-like gaze. “Nonsense, why should I care about her ancestry—so long as she is a superb sorceress and can bear strong children. But twelve centuries of Griffin men have been named after the great sorcerers of the past, particularly after those who served the Pendragon, and she names the heir of the dukedom after a rock!”
“Ah, yes, I see the problem.” Gaius’s eyes danced with mirth. Rachel knew her brother Peter was not among Gaius’s favorite people.
“Cheeky young man!” Great-Aunt Nimue glared down at him.
Rachel spoke up for her boyfriend. “Gaius is descended from one of the Pendragon’s knights!”
“Is he?” Great-Aunt Nimue looked Gaius up and down. From the glint in her eye, Rachel guessed that the old woman admired Gaius’s spunk. “Well, he might be a suitable match for a Griffin…if he could be bothered to grow a bit taller. I don’t approve of short men.”
“I hardly think our height is our fault,” Gaius replied, clearly struggling not to laugh.
“Perhaps not,” replied Great-Aunt Nimue, “but I find it suspicious.”
Chapter Four:
He Blinded Her with Science!
“You could have warned me,” Rachel said softly to Gaius, as they followed William deeper into the complex, “that I was about to become the center of attention.”
“I had no idea,” Gaius replied. “That wasn’t why I brought you here.”
“Oh! Why did you bring me?”
He grinned at her, an adorable grin. “You’ll see. As soon as we’re done with this last thing Mr. Moth and Mr. Locke wanted William to show us.”
“Just a warning.” William paused, as they approached a hallway that passed through a series of sliding double doors. They had parted with Blackie when they passed the lab where he was currently working. “Where we are going next, none of your magic will work.”
Rachel and Gaius glanced at each other, curious.
William led them through half a dozen sliding doors. Each set of doors required a numeric code to be punched in, a card to be placed into a slot, a palm to be pressed against a plate, and an incantation to be chanted. Rachel was not sure which objects were alchemical talismans and which were mundane technology. Normally, magic and tech did not work together, but Ouroboros Industries was the exception to many rules.
The first set of sliding doors had been made of oak. On the far side, the dark maroon rug had a crimson thread running through it. Here and there, the thread had been pulled up and lay atop the rug in a tangled knot.
“Clever use of a tangled red thread,” chuckled Gaius.
“And tangled red thread stops…?” William quizzed his younger friend.
Gaius tipped back his head, trying to recall his warding classes. “Far Eastern fey and some tricksters?”
“And those?” William pointed to the daisy chains hanging along the walls.
“Um…they stop pixies, sprites, and fairies?” guessed Gaius.
William gave a nod of approval. “Very good.”
The next set of sliding doors was made of a pinkish-white crystal. William knocked on the hard stone. “Any idea what this one is?”
Rachel and Gaius spoke together. “Salt.”
William inclined an eyebrow. “Both of you! I admit, I am impre
ssed.”
“It looks like the salt licks we use for the cows on my father’s farm,” said Gaius.
“Salt licks,” said Rachel simultaneously, adding, “We breed horses at Gryphon Park.”
“Salt licks?” William’s eyebrow arched ever-so-slightly upward. “One learns something every day. Or, if the stars are in one’s favor, one learns many things.”
Rachel and Gaius grinned at each other in a moment of farmerly camaraderie.
On the far side of the salt doors, eyes had been painted on the walls and carved into the wainscoting. Bells dangled from the ceiling, ringing as they walked by. A horseshoe hung over the next door, which was of cedar; bunches of garlic hung over the ash door beyond.
William quizzed them on the eyes and bells, as well as on the fresh-baked bread in the following section.
“Magical beasts. They will stop to eat it. Well, if it is fresh enough,” quipped Gaius, answering William’s final question.
“Lavender’s good for warding off magical beasts, too,” murmured Rachel, gazing hungrily at the bread. Then she felt a bit foolish. Feeling tempted by magical creature bait hardly redounded to her greater glory.
“Lavender?” asked both the boys.
Rachel nodded. “No animals eat it, nor bugs either. The plant, that is. Bees and butterflies eat the flowers, of course. And unicorns, but they are hardly a problem. That’s why lavender is the prime ingredient in Bogey Away.”
“Bogey Away?” They both blinked at her.
Rachel shrugged. “Must be a Devonshire thing.”
“Does it work?” William asked curiously. “I would be interested in examining a sample.”
The next door was iron. The floor on the far side was sprinkled with round, black seeds.
“Peony seeds!” Rachel cried with delight, grabbing her boyfriend’s arm. “Just like the bag you gave me on Halloween! When we were in Tunisia, we used them to stop the ravaging army of children’s skeletons.”
“Did you?” Gaius grinned proudly. “Glad to hear it.”
“Army of skeletal children?” Locke blinked. “I hadn’t heard about that.”
Rachel’s expression faltered. “Demons are ugly things.”
William’s face became grim. “Yes, they are.”
Leaving the hallway, they walked through a room where powdered chalk and sawdust drifted down from the ceiling, crunching under their shoes. The scent of juniper was quite pleasant. Rachel smiled as she shook her head, shedding sweet-smelling sawdust from her hair.
In the next room, they were told to strip down and put on special jumpsuits, leaving their clothes and belongings behind. Rachel was directed to a ladies’ room. The jumpsuit she changed into was far too big for her. She rolled up the sleeves and pants cuffs. Nonetheless, both boys had to struggle not to grin when she emerged. Rachel kept her face still, but inside she was tickled.
“Ordinarily, there is something we must drink,” explained William. “But it has been decided not to feed unapproved liquids to Agent Griffin’s daughter.”
“Good grief! That’s thorough!” whistled Gaius. “What does the liquid do?”
“Flushes out most alchemical elixirs,” replied William. “Those who are hired to work here are required to undergo purification rituals, as well. These involve purges and having all your body hair shaved off, but it was decided to make a special exception about that, too.”
“All of it?” Gaius pulled his legs together and winced.
“Leg hair. Back hair. Nose hair. The whole works,” Locke replied evenly.
Gaius made a face and grabbed his nose. Rachel giggled, but her fingers wove their way through her black, shoulder-length locks, grasping her flyaway tresses protectively.
William walked up to the next door, a plate of steel, placed his palm and eye against some kind of device, and sang an incantation. “Here we go.”
The door slid open, revealing a very small room. They walked into it, and William hit one of many round buttons on the wall. The door closed. A strange sensation of motion made Rachel’s stomach lurch, much like the elevator that had taken her family to the top of the Empire State Building. Perhaps mundane lifting talismans, or whatever it was that made such devices run, normally produced such a sensation.
When the weird sensation stopped, William went to the far side of the small room and put his hand against another device. He also entered a code, slid his badge through a slot, pressed a series of arcane symbols, and sang an incantation.
“Whoa!” Gaius blinked. “This is…some security.”
William did not smile. “When you see what is inside, you will understand.”
The door opened into a semi-circular room, the curved walls of which were plated with glass. It overlooked an enormous chamber that extended both above and below this small command post. High above, in the ceiling of the outer chamber, was a giant iris, fifty-foot in diameter. Beneath, on the floor of the vast chamber, stood a huge pentagram of a hardened umber-colored substance about a hundred forty feet across. The solid pentagram was ten or fifteen feet high.
Gaius walked forward and pressed his forehead and palms against the glass.
“Ah. I see,” he murmured.
Rachel moved forward until she could see, too. Inside the umber substance, caught like flies in amber, were Mortimer Egg, Serena O’Malley, and a giant bull with the face of a man—the demon Morax.
“Better not to touch the glass,” warned William, “just to be sure.”
Gaius took a swift step backward and wiped his hands on his jumpsuit.
Rachel came up beside him, peering down at the captive monstrosities. Gaius slipped a hand into hers. Horrifying as was the vista below, it could not stop the tiny bursts of joy that spread through her at his touch.
“So this is Blackie’s work?” Rachel gestured at the window. “This material that is trapping the demons?”
William nodded. “We owe him a great deal. Without his work, there would be nothing we could do against the demons.”
Rachel stared out at the three motionless forms. She vividly recalled the odor and the heat of the great furnace in Tunisia into which Morax’s followers had wanted to toss her. In her memory’s ear, she heard the echo of the clack of the bones of the walking child-skeletons.
“How strange that demons exist.” Rachel shuddered. “Creatures whose motives are to cause as much harm as possible. How could anything come to be in such a state?”
“They are more horrible than any monster we study in school.” Gaius said gravely. “Dragons just want food and gold. Occasionally, a really nasty one wants maidens. Same thing with kraken and minotaurs. Even that ogre who killed the young man was defending its territory. But all those things are desires we understand. These things….” He gestured toward the pentagram. “Causing traffic accidents for fun? Sacrificing children in front of their parents? The word ‘monster’ doesn’t even begin to cover it.”
“They are vile beyond our ability to comprehend,” stated William.
Rachel chewed on her lip as she stared at the creatures of pure malice. Gaius also seemed subdued.
“Such a beastly fate! To be trapped indefinitely!” she cried finally. “What about the good half of Serena O’Malley? Is there a way to free her, so Juma can have his mum back?”
“Not yet,” William shook his head. “We believe she is possessed. Mortimer Egg as well. We have tried processes that should have reversed the possession, but nothing has worked.”
“What would happen to Egg, if you separated him from Azrael?” asked Gaius.
William shrugged. “We believe Egg was possessed against his will because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. If he could be freed, he could go back to his life, such as it is.”
“His wife is dead,” said Gaius.
“But his son is alive,” said Rachel. “Mortimer Junior must want his real father back.”
“Perhaps,” acknowledged William, “but we don’t know how to accomplish it. We have consulte
d the best possession experts among the Wise—from Alaska, Bavaria, Ultima Thule, the Congo, Prester John’s Kingdom, Machu Picchu, Japan, the Republic of Cathay, even Mainland China. We didn’t give them all the details, of course. But, so far, they have been unable to help.”
Rachel glanced sideways at Gaius, who squeezed her hand comfortingly. He stepped closer and nuzzled her cheek affectionately.
When his mouth came near her ear, he whispered, “Do you think you should tell them about what happened in Transylvania? The first time, I mean? How you renewed that spell of your Grandfather’s that bound the demon into Egg? They probably won’t be able to undo General Griffin’s binding unless they first know about it.”
Rachel murmured back, “I want to tell my father first.”
“Why didn’t you tell him when you saw him at Sandra’s?”
“He…proved elusive.” She was pleased that her voice had only the slightest wobble.
Gaius nodded solemnly. Glanced out the window again, he shivered and turned away.
“Important safety tip,” he murmured in her ear. “Don’t get possessed by a demon.”
• • •
“And now, finally…my surprise,” Gaius announced, as Rachel emerged from the ladies’ room. She was back in her own clothing and carrying her plaque and roses. “It comes in two parts. The first part stars William.”
“Oh?” Rachel looked up at the older boy curiously.
“It will be my pleasure,” William replied with a smile, bowing.
He led them to another elevator and then upward to the ninth floor, where they entered a meeting room. It had a large whiteboard on one wall and bright metal and plastic chairs. Rachel, who had hardly ever seen plastic, found them both odd and cheery—as if she had walked into a storybook about the Unwary. Gaius ushered her to a seat that had a notepad and pen resting on the table in front of it. Then he sat off to the side, one leg crossed over the other, listening.
“Miss Griffin,” William Locke bowed, “I’ve heard that you could use a lesson in physics. I have the honor of being your teacher today.”
The Awful Truth About Forgetting (Books of Unexpected Enlightenment Book 4) Page 5