The Cheater's Game: Glass and Steele, #7

by C. J. Archer

  "That coming from a man who lied to get me here."

  "I didn't lie. I really do have the paperwork for the shop to give you." Chronos handed me a glass and another to Fabian. He still smiled. It put me on edge even more.

  "We are alike, you and me," Fabian said. "I understand you. I understand you are scared of your power and what others want from you. That is why I want to teach you what I know. Teaching you will protect you."

  "Teach me what?" I asked. "More spells? Are you a horology magician too?"

  He chuckled softly. "My mother's family are mason magicians. They can make stones of all kinds into any shape. Their masonry is beautiful, perfect in every way. On my father's side, there are iron magicians. They worked as blacksmiths and farriers for many centuries, but most are now engineers."

  "They build steamships, bridges, that sort of thing," Chronos added. "The Charbonneaus run an extremely successful business in France. They're wealthy." He saluted Fabian with his glass then drained it.

  "What I am trying to say is, I have magic on both sides of my family," Fabian went on. "They are unbroken lineages, sometimes joining with other magic families through marriage. There is even a confectioner magician, like your mother's father."

  As much as I didn't want my curiosity to be piqued by this man and this meeting, it was. I couldn't help it. I had wanted to meet someone like him ever since learning of my magic, but it wasn't until now that I realized how much.

  "Does iron bend for you without you speaking a spell?" I asked on a rush of breath.

  "Sometimes, if I will it very hard."

  "And does it save you if you are in danger?"

  "No."

  "Oh." I sat back again, unaware I'd sat forward.

  Fabian smiled. Clearly my frustration and confusion amused him. I couldn't think why, except that he delighted in keeping me frustrated and confused.

  "You are special, India," he said. "I have not heard of anyone who can do what you do with your watches without a spell. I cannot, and I am one of the most powerful magicians in France, perhaps Europe."

  "Modest too," I muttered into my glass.

  He chuckled. "Forgive me. I am not familiar with English humility, but I am learning."

  "Speaking of learning, you said you wished to teach me about magic. If I am more powerful than you, what can you teach me?"

  "The language of spells."

  Professor Nash had told me about the language of magic, as he called it. According to him, the language was fluid, and words evolved over time, much in the same way English had evolved over centuries. According to Nash, only the most powerful magicians could harness the language to create new spells.

  "The language has disappeared," I told them. "Except for a few simple spells, of course."

  "No," Fabian said. "Much of the language has been passed down from generation to generation among powerful magical families. In secret, of course. Continental Europe is not unlike England with your guilds and fear mongering."

  I waited for him to go on, aware of the flutter in my belly, the clamminess of my skin. I drank the contents of my glass to settle my nerves, but the magic of Madeira wine didn't work fast enough.

  "You know the language?" I asked.

  "Some. There are gaps, alas, so my studies try to fill those gaps."

  "Why do you need me if you already know most of the language?"

  "Because knowing the words is not enough. They must be put together in a certain way; a way that is part learning, part instinct. Not all magicians have that instinct." He rubbed his fingers together, as if feeling a fine silk. "Only those with strong magic can bring the words to life. They have the instinct."

  "He needs help to create new spells," Chronos explained.

  "A spell caster," I whispered. That was the term Professor Nash used for such a magician. He'd suspected I might have that power. And now Fabian did too. "You've been searching for someone like me."

  "For a long time." He smiled. "But not someone like you, India. That person is you."

  Chapter 8

  It was almost too much to comprehend. Fabian had come so far to find me. Me. This powerful magician, with a lineage that matched mine, needed me to create new spells. Yet he was the one who knew the language of magic, and I did not. How could I be a spell caster when I knew only two spells?

  Chronos must have refilled my glass because he pressed it into my hand and urged me to drink. "You look like you need it."

  Fabian's smooth features lifted with his smile. "You are overwhelmed."

  I set the glass down. I preferred to have my wits about me for the time being. I didn't want to say something I would regret later. "You claim a spell caster has instinct. But I don't."

  "You do or you could not make your watch work without a spell."

  "It saved you, India," Chronos said, patting my hand. "Fabian says that is a sign of a spell caster, of a magician with the right instincts."

  "Yes, but—"

  "No buts." He touched my jaw, forcing me to look at him. His eyes were bright and glossy, his smile barely contained, like a youth after his first glass of wine. "This is your destiny, India."

  "According to whom?" I jerked away and rose. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Fabian, but I must get home."

  "Not yet! There is so much to discuss." Chronos hauled himself to his feet, all youthful appearances gone. He was an elderly man once again, and I felt guilty for not taking better care of him.

  "I've heard everything I want to hear for now," I said. "I'll come and see you again soon." I kissed his cheek but he only scowled at me.

  "You're being stubborn," he said.

  "It is all right," Fabian said. "India has much to think about. Take your time to consider all I have told you."

  "Not too long," Chronos grumbled. "I want to see you fulfill your destiny before I die."

  I rolled my eyes. "You're not dying, and I don't believe in destiny. Our futures are the sum of our choices. It is not mapped for us at birth."

  "You cannot waste your talents. If I'd been given what you have, I would be excited by the possibilities."

  "You are not me."

  "Clearly," he muttered. "I blame your parents for raising you as artless."

  "And why did they do that? Because they saw what magic did to you, how it drove you to abandon your family and responsibilities, and drove you mad."

  "I'm not mad." He tapped his temple. "My mind is in perfect working order."

  "It is a lot to take in," Fabian said. "Please, India, take your time and think about what I have told you. If you have questions, I will answer them as best I can." He bowed. "I am at your service."

  "How long are you in London?" I asked.

  "That depends on you."

  "Me?"

  He smiled. "I have rented a house in Mayfair, not far from where you live."

  He knew where I lived? I glared at Chronos, but he was busy looking through the paperwork on the desk tucked into the corner of the room. He found what he wanted and handed the sheets of paper to me.

  "These are the deeds to the shop and all its contents," he said. "I had a lawyer draw them up so it's all legal."

  Fabian said his goodbyes and Chronos saw him to the door before returning to me.

  "It's all yours," he said, pointing to the papers. "Or it will be, once you sign."

  "Are you sure?" I asked, still feeling dazed from the conversation with Fabian.

  "Very. I never wanted it, and even if I did, I can't use it. The guild won't give me a license."

  "They won't let me in, either."

  "But you can rent out the premises."

  "So can you."

  He merely shrugged.

  "I don't need the rental income," I told him. "Matt has many investments."

  "Just in case," he said.

  "In case of what?"

  "You know."

  "No, I do not."

  He sighed. "In case you leave him. These papers transfer the shop to you alone, an
d specifically state that it won't go to him in the instance of your marriage ending."

  "Matt isn't like that and you know it," I said, sounding miffed and not caring. "He wouldn't leave me destitute if something happened between us. Not that it will."

  "You might decide to leave him, India. He is artless, after all."

  I wasn't sure if I wanted to laugh or rail at him. "You are quite possibly the least grandfatherly grandfather I have ever met." Considering he'd just bequeathed his shop to me, that wasn't fair, but I didn't retract my statement.

  "Speaking of Matt," he said as he watched me sign, "I don't think you should mention this meeting to him."

  "I'm going to."

  "He won't want you to speak to Fabian again."

  "Matt doesn't make decisions for me."

  His lips flattened. He was right not to believe me. Matt certainly wouldn't want me to learn from Fabian and become a spell caster, and if I did want it, I would have a difficult time convincing him that it was the right thing to do. But he would never forbid me, of that I was certain.

  Chronos handed me a copy of the contract and promised to lodge the other with his lawyer.

  "I have to go," I said, rolling up the papers. "May I have a hack fare? I didn't have time to fetch my reticule."

  He opened a tin on the desk and plucked out some coins. He placed them on my palm and closed my fingers. "This is everything I've dreamed of," he said, a faraway look in his eyes. "More. My little girl is a spell caster."

  "Not yet," I told him. Perhaps not ever, but I did not say that out loud. It would break his heart.

  Matt didn't return home until just before dawn. I knew because I fell asleep on his bed as I waited for him. I awoke with a start as the mattress sank beside me.

  "It's just me," he said. I could barely make out his silhouette in the dark. "Is something wrong?"

  "No. I just wanted to speak with you when you got home, but I wasn't expecting you to be this late. Or early."

  He stretched out alongside me and I curled into his side, realizing too late that he was naked from the waist up. Since I was already pressed against him, there was no point in pulling away now, so I stroked his chest instead, teasing the tiny hairs and relishing the feel of smooth skin pulled taut over muscle.

  "I like coming home to you waiting for me in my bed." He put his arm around me and kissed the top of my head. "Are you wearing just your nightgown?"

  "With a housecoat. Don't tell your aunt."

  "Scandalous." He cupped my breast through the fabric and I groaned, arching into him. "Very, very scandalous."

  I tipped my head back and he kissed me. It was a hungry, passionate kiss that devoured me and sent my thoughts scattering. Every piece of me responded to his touch, aching for his mouth, his hands, his love.

  My fingers followed the faint line of hair down his stomach to the waistband of his trousers. I wanted to explore, to know what I'd denied myself for so long, and to fulfill a part of me that needed fulfillment.

  Matt sucked in air between his teeth. "I was going to tell you what I learned tonight," he murmured against my lips.

  "It can wait," I said.

  "Yessss. It can."

  While Matt slept through the morning, I headed out with Cyclops to the Masons' home, located next to the family shop. Cyclops didn't protest, but that was because I lied and told him we were visiting Matt's lawyer and I needed to be accompanied. I wasn't sure why he believed such a thin excuse, but he did.

  He didn't even question me when we stopped outside the Masons' house. He simply sighed and opened the carriage door. "I should have known," was all he said.

  Mrs. Mason greeted me with politeness and Cyclops with a wary nod. "Would you like to come in, India?" she asked, stepping aside. "While your coachman waits with the carriage?"

  "Cyclops isn't the coachman, as you can see by the actual coachman sitting on the driver's seat." I waved to our driver. He hesitated then lifted a hand in a half-hearted wave back. "Cyclops is accompanying me this morning," I said to Mrs. Mason. "Is Mr. Mason at home?"

  "In the shop. Aren't you here to see Catherine?"

  "I have a business matter to discuss with Mr. Mason."

  She pressed her hand to her stomach as if my pronouncement made her feel ill. "Shouldn't your fiancé have accompanied you instead of your…friend?"

  I smiled. "We'll go next door. Thank you, Mrs. Mason."

  "I don't think she likes me," Cyclops said as we headed to the shop.

  "She'll adore you once she gets to know you."

  "I doubt it," he said heavily. "Catherine says she's very traditional."

  I squeezed his arm, secretly pleased that Catherine had discussed her mother in such an honest manner with him. Mere acquaintances wouldn't.

  "India! Nate!" Catherine emerged from the other side of the counter and greeted me with a kiss on my cheek and a rather awkward handshake for Cyclops. "What a lovely surprise."

  "I hope we're not disturbing you," Cyclops said.

  Catherine looked around the shop, which contained only her brother, Ronnie, behind the counter. It didn't feel empty, however. Not with the faint whirring of gears and the ticking of clocks filling the room. "I can spare a few moments."

  I greeted Ronnie, a taller version of Catherine with sharper features. Like her, he was blonde and slender but with wide shoulders. He also smiled easily and often.

  He came out from behind the counter and repeated the greeting his sister had given us, kissing my cheek and shaking Cyclops's hand, only with less awkwardness. I'd always liked Ronnie best of Catherine's three brothers, perhaps because he was so like her. Orwell, the older one, was earnest and smiled rarely, while Gareth, the youngest, was more interested in flirting with girls than having a serious conversation.

  "Is your father in the workshop?" I asked, nodding at the door behind the counter. "I'd like to speak to him. It's about my shop."

  Catherine's brows arched. "Your shop?"

  Ronnie went to fetch his father, returning with Mr. Mason and Orwell. Unlike his three younger Mason siblings, Orwell took after his father, with a sturdier build that would run to fat in middle age. He wasn't as fair as Catherine, Ronnie and Gareth, or as friendly, but he greeted me kindly. Both he and his father ignored Cyclops, as if he were a servant who'd accompanied me and not worth their notice.

  I stepped back a little to draw alongside Cyclops. "Matt wasn't available this morning," I told them. "So I wanted to bring someone else who knows about business matters. This is Nate Bailey."

  I felt Cyclops's gaze drill into me.

  "Mr. Bailey has a head for business," I said.

  "And not just the pirate business," Cyclops joked.

  Catherine laughed and Ronnie chuckled. Orwell and Mr. Mason stared at him as if they were trying to decide if they should laugh too or hide their valuables.

  "It's about India's shop," Catherine told her father. "It seems it has returned to her hands. Is that right, India?"

  I nodded. "I want to offer you the contents at a fair price, Mr. Mason. Or I have another idea that you might be amenable to. Orwell might be interested in what I have to say as well."

  "You'd better come out back," Mr. Mason said. "Ronnie, Catherine, stay here. Is Gareth not back yet?"

  "He's still making deliveries," Ronnie said with a huff.

  Mr. Mason led us through to the workshop, the sight of which warmed my heart. Watch and clock parts were scattered on the bench, along with equipment and tools that were as familiar to me as my own belongings. The housing of a mahogany long case clock stood open, a stool pulled up so that its innards could be inspected from a seated position. At one end of a bench, six silver watch chains waited for the six silver watches to be attached, and a beautifully carved Bahnhäusle cuckoo sat silent but proud.

  Mr. Mason offered me a stool but I declined. There weren't enough stools for all of us, and I didn't want Cyclops to be left standing. I drew in a deep breath, drawing the scent of metals and polish
into my lungs, and smiled.

  "I received the deeds to my family's shop yesterday," I told Mr. Mason. "It was returned to my grandfather after…well, you know." The less Eddie's name was spoken, the better. It wasn't his real name, anyway. "My grandfather doesn't want it, so he gave it to me."

  Orwell cocked his head to the side. "He just gave it to you?"

  "He has no intention of making or selling timepieces again. He's an old man and wishes to enjoy his retirement."

  I couldn't imagine Chronos doing the things retired men do, like reading in the park or gardening. But Mr. Mason and Orwell didn't need to know that Chronos wasn't retiring from the business of magic.

  "I won't be using it either," I said. "I don't want the shop to remain idle, however, and there is quite a bit of stock left in it." I paused, to see if either of them caught on, but they just waited for me to continue. "Enough stock for another watchmaker to walk right in and hit the ground running."

  "You're not selling the stock?" Mr. Mason frowned. "Isn't that why you're here? To offer it to me?"

  "That was my original intention, but as I thought more about it, I realized it would be a good opportunity for Orwell to lease the shop and buy the stock. I'd sell it to him at cost."

  "You could set up a repayment plan," Cyclops said. When they both looked at him blankly, he added, "Like a loan."

  Orwell's frown matched his father's. "But…I have this shop."

  I'd thought he'd jump at the opportunity. Orwell wasn't the brightest star in the sky, but surely he could see that this was his chance to step outside his father's shadow.

  "I thought you might like your own shop," I said.

  "He'll inherit one day," Mr. Mason said. "And until then, he should remain here to learn from me."

  "Hasn't he been here ten years? Hasn't he learned everything by now?"

  "It doesn't come easy to everyone, India. We're not all magicians." Mr. Mason snatched up a pivot locator and sat on the stool by the long case clock.

  "Orwell?" I asked weakly.

  "He's not interested," Mr. Mason said, peering into the clock's housing.