by C. J. Archer
"And was he dead?" Matt asked bluntly.
Dr. Hale regarded Matt then me. "You look startled, Miss Steele. Indeed, you look as if you weren't expecting your colleague to ask that question without preamble."
"Mr. Glass is full of surprises," I said rather lamely. But he was right—I hadn't expected Matt's directness, particularly when Hale could be a link to Chronos. We needed him, but Matt looked as if he wanted to wipe Hale's smirk from his face with his fist. Perhaps it was frustration at coming so close only to find the man we needed was rather obnoxious.
"Dr. Hale, we're very busy, as I'm sure you are too," Matt said. "We'd like to get to the bottom of this mystery as soon as possible. If no miracle was performed then I'm afraid we're wasting our time." He began to rise. "Miss Steele?"
"Wait!" Hale indicated Matt should sit again. "You're not wasting your time. It's just that…I've been warned not to speak of it, you see." He glanced at the door.
"By Dr. Ritter, the principal?"
"And others."
"Why? What are you afraid will happen?"
"It's not me who is afraid of the consequences, Mr. Glass. I'm rather excited about this development, as it happens. It's they who are afraid—Dr. Ritter, Dr. Wiley, and…others." He clasped his hands on the desk and pointed a finger at Matt. "I think you and I are of like mind, Mr. Glass, along with Mr. Barratt, of course."
"The reporter for The Weekly Gazette?" I asked.
He nodded. "Yet even he only alluded to it in his article, despite implying he would tell the truth. He didn't even print my statement."
"Allude to what?" Matt asked.
"Ah." He sat back with a smile too slick to trust. "You want me to say it first, do you? Well then. I suppose I will. Magic, Mr. Glass. It exists, and I am a magician." He spread out his hands like a messiah welcoming his disciples. "Neither of you look surprised."
"We've heard of magic," Matt said. "But few speak openly about it."
"They've been ordered not to."
"As have you, by your own account, and yet you do."
His smile turned smug. "This breakthrough is bigger than Dr. Ritter or anyone else. Bigger than this hospital and the guilds. It can't be swept under the carpet. It should be celebrated. What I did two days ago is a miracle, just like the newspaper claimed. No one has ever brought a dead man back to life."
"But he's not alive," I said. "He's dead."
Hale's smile slipped. "I'll work on extending the magic so that it lasts longer. But it was a solid first step."
"And how will you extend it?" I asked.
Hale's nostrils flared. "I can't give away my secrets. If you print my ideas, another magician might steal them."
I tried to think of a way to incorporate a question about time magic without revealing myself and what we knew but could think of none.
"Was he already dead?" Matt asked. "Or simply on the brink of death?"
Hale laughed. "It depends on whom you ask. Dr. Wiley swears that he was dead, but one of the nurses said she saw his chest rise with a breath."
"And what do you say?"
"In all honesty, I cannot be certain. But it changes nothing. My magic—"
"How can you not be certain?" Matt asked. "You're a physician."
Dr. Hale's smile returned, harder than before. "I didn't check. I know, I know, it was a mistake, but I believed Dr. Wiley without question. He's very experienced."
"And old," Matt said. "And a nurse claimed the patient breathed. You should have checked."
Hale's mouth worked but no words came out. He looked as if he would reach across the desk and strangle Matt to keep him quiet. "The fact is," he eventually said, "whether the patient was already dead or almost dead, I brought him to full recovery for a few minutes. Alas, it didn't last. But think of the implications, Mr. Glass. Think of what it could mean."
"I am," Matt said heavily. "I think of nothing but the implications."
"If I could perfect the cure, make it last longer…" He left the sentence unfinished, but his smile had returned. "But there's no way to do so."
I looked to Matt but he shook his head slightly. He didn't want me to reveal what we knew about combining time magic with types. I agreed with him, for now. We should not reveal our knowledge until we knew we could trust Hale. He may have lied about this entire scenario for the attention.
"I'm very excited by your interest," Hale went on. "The Weekly Gazette is one thing, but The Times is quite another. Your reach is incredible and the paper's reputation beyond question. If you report on magic, and state that it exists, then you will be believed." He got up and began pacing back and forth in front of his window, as if he couldn't be still. "This is an exciting development and quite unexpected. I think the world is ready to believe. People want magic to exist. They're tired of their mundane lives. They want to break the monotony. Magic can do that." He snapped his fingers and pointed at Matt. "Speak to Oscar Barratt. He might be able to enlighten you on some other magical cases. I believe I wasn't the first magician he reported on."
The more he spoke, the more I found myself believing him. He might be arrogant, and a little irritating, but he did speak in earnest. He was a magician. I was certain of it.
My heart did a little skip in my chest. If this man was a magical doctor, then Chronos might be aware of his existence and perhaps have been here. I was about to ask Hale when Matt suddenly sat forward. He'd had his doubts about Hale's story, but I suspected he now thought the same as me.
"Do you know a man named Pierre DuPont?" he asked, the words spilling from his lips in a rush.
Hale shook his head. "Is he a reporter with an interest in magic, too?"
"He also goes by the name Chronos."
Surprise flickered across Hale's face. "The old clockmaker? He came here some time ago. He never told me his real name. DuPont sounds like a French name, but that Chronos fellow didn't have an accent."
My breath caught in my throat. We'd thought the name and accent were part of a disguise, but to hear Hale confirm it was a relief. And to think he'd met Chronos! It was more than I'd hoped for.
"What does he look like?" Matt asked. His features schooled, but the flush in his cheeks gave away his excitement.
"White hair, elderly but rather sprightly for his age." Hale leaned forward and glanced at each of us in turn. "He's a magician." He leaned back again. "But I see that you both knew that already."
The knuckles on Matt's fisted hand turned whiter. "Do you know where we can find him?"
"Yes."
"Where?" both Matt and I blurted out.
Chapter 2
"Why the sudden interest in Chronos?" The pout could be heard in Hale's voice, if not seen on his face. "I thought it was me you wanted to interview for your story."
"We do," I said, before Matt could dismiss him and ruin not only our chances of finding Chronos but having Hale help us once we did find him. Although Dr. Parsons, the original magical doctor, had claimed the problem was with Matt's timepiece, not his body, it was possible he'd been mistaken. Perhaps both magicians were required to work together after all.
"Then don't you want to know the details of how I cured the patient?" Hale asked, indicating his bookcase full of jars.
"Of course we do," I said, summoning some patience from goodness knew where. Matt's body had gone rigid, as if he were trying to contain himself. "But we're interested in all magic, and we've heard about Chronos. May we have his address, please?"
"Oh, I don't know where he lives," Hale said, "only the name of a tavern where he drinks. He told me if I ever came across a magical doctor that I was to contact him at the Cross Keys on High Holborn."
Matt stood. "Thank you, Doctor." He checked his pocket watch—not his magical one—and headed for the door. "India?" he said when he realized I hadn't followed.
But I couldn't take my gaze off Dr. Hale. "What did he mean if you 'came across a magical doctor?' You are a magical doctor."
"Ah, you made the same mistake as
Chronos."
Matt stalked back to me and leaned his knuckles on the desk. "You told us you're magical."
"I am. But I'm an apothecary, not a doctor. Well, I am a physician by profession, but my magic is with medicines." He indicated the jars again. "Do you understand the difference?"
Matt lowered his head. He must have thought the same as me—that if we required both a doctor and horology magician, we had at least found the former. But we had not.
I stood and touched his arm. "Was Chronos disappointed when he found out?"
"Furious," Hale said. "He ranted and raved. He even picked up one of my jars, and was about to throw it at the wall, until I wrestled it off him. I managed to calm him down and explain the difference between my profession and my magic. My work is not in the same field as my magic, although they're related."
I wagged my finger at him. "I know where I've heard your name now! You're Dr. Hale of Dr. Hale's Cure All." We used to keep a bottle of his medicine in our kitchen. It soothed some headaches but cured little else, despite its claim. "But if you don't work as an apothecary, why is your name on the bottle?"
"It's common practice for actual doctors to lend their name to medicines. It makes them more authentic in the public's eyes, you see, and that helps sales. A pharmacist friend asked me to give my name to his cure-all, and I readily agreed. Most of those medicines are his." He nodded at the jars. "Some are my own, once infused with magic—which no longer works, alas. I had one in my pocket when that patient came in." He opened his drawer and pulled out a small brown bottle stoppered with a cork. "I saw him gasp his last breath—or perhaps it was simply a breath—so I whispered my spell into the bottle and trickled some of the medicine into his mouth."
"The article didn't mention medicine," I said heavily.
"An oversight on Barratt's part. Unfortunately, the medicine only gave the patient a few more minutes of life. I had hoped for days or even weeks. Imagine the attention then!" He returned the bottle to his drawer. "You both look as disappointed as Chronos when he learned my magic is in medicines and not actual doctoring."
I glanced at Matt. He didn't look disappointed; he looked eager to get away.
"Apothecary magic is just as interesting and important as any other," Hale said defensively.
"A magical doctor can cure a man with nothing more than his hands," Matt said with a speaking glance at the jars.
Hale sniffed and crossed his arms. "Yes. Well. As a physician, I am able to cure people of their illnesses too—sometimes forever—whereas the effects of magic are fleeting, whether performed by a doctor or apothecary. Besides, magical doctors are rare, apparently."
"You've never come across any?" Matt asked.
"No."
"You've never suspected any of your colleagues of being magical? Have any performed feats of doctoring too extraordinary to be explained away?"
"No. As I said, magic is rare, and the sort of magician you're looking for is the rarest form, according to Chronos. Not even he knew if one exists. Of course, I wouldn't expect artless like you two to understand."
"We're learning," I said.
"Anyway, it was nice to see that my magic still works, since I don't use it often, and even more satisfying to have it come to Barratt's attention. Sales of Dr. Hale's Cure All will increase dramatically as a result of the article, I expect. My friend will be pleased."
"Are all the Cure-All bottles infused with magic?" Matt asked.
He hesitated. "Just my own medicines." Again, he indicated the stack of shelves with its bottles of all shapes and sizes. I did not see a Cure-All among them, except for his personal bottle that he slipped back into the desk drawer.
"Come, India," Matt said. "We've got work to do."
Hale thrust out his hand, and Matt shook it and thanked him. "It was a pleasure to meet you both," Hale said. "Be sure and let me know when The Times will run the article so I can tell all my friends and the staff here. They'll enjoy reading it, I'm sure."
Matt went to open the office door only to have it wrenched open from the other side. Dr. Wiley stood there with another man of advanced years who sported a dense gray beard and matching eyebrows that crashed together in a severe frown. They stood aside to allow us to pass.
"You're from The Times, are you?" asked the older man.
Matt nodded and kept walking.
"Do you carry a letter of introduction from your editor?"
Matt stopped. "I don't usually need one."
The man looked Matt over then straightened his spine and squared his shoulders. He was still a much less impressive figure than Matt. "Then how can we be certain you are who you say you are?"
"We don't have time for this," Matt growled.
"What did you say your name was?"
"It's Glass," Dr. Hale said, joining us in the doorway. "And this is Miss Steele. Dr. Ritter, they're genuine, I assure you."
Dr. Ritter was the principal doctor at the hospital and therefore the chief of staff. He was Dr. Hale's superior. "Your assurance is meaningless, Hale."
Hale blinked rapidly behind his spectacles. "Pardon?"
Ritter pushed past me and into the office. Wiley scampered after him. "Pack your things and leave," Ritter said as Wiley closed the door. "You no longer work here."
"B-but I can't just leave." Hale cried. "What about my patients?"
I held my hand up to Matt, who stood a few feet away, his fingers tapping against his thigh. I pressed my ear to the closed door and could just make out Ritter's furious words.
"You have embarrassed this hospital for the last time! You're a disgrace to your profession, and I've had enough! The article was the last straw! Going public with such a fanciful, ludicrous claim of miracles…it's beyond the pale! Take your medicines and leave before I throw you out myself."
The door opened and I hurried away, but their voices filtered out through the gap.
"You can't do this to me!" Hale cried. "I'm too important to—"
"Too important? Ha! You're nothing but an apothecary trying his hand at doctoring. Your skills as a physician are moderate, at best. Go back to being a pharmacist, Hale. If you can get employment, that is."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"It means I've contacted the Apothecary's Guild and told them to watch out for you. They were very interested in the stunt you pulled here and your ridiculous claims of magic and miracles. I doubt they want a crackpot in their midst either."
The last thing I heard as we hurried along the corridor was Hale's protest. "I am not a crackpot! I am a magician surrounded by artless idiots."
Neither Matt nor I spoke until we reached our carriage. "The Cross Keys on High Holborn," Matt directed Bryce. He'd barely had time to settle on the seat opposite me when the coach lurched forward.
"It's unlikely Chronos will be there at this hour," I said, checking my watch. It was only ten forty-five.
"I'm not getting my hopes up that he'll be there at all." Matt's bright, clear eyes told a different story, however. He looked invigorated, healthier and more alert than I'd seen him in weeks. His health had grown progressively worse since I'd met him, his need to use his watch more frequent. No one had mentioned it, but I could sense everyone's worry.
"I think you're allowed to get your hopes up, Matt. This is the closest we've come to finding Chronos. I almost whooped like Willie when Hale confirmed he'd spoken to him." I wanted to reach across the gap and touch his knee, his hand, something to show him how relieved I was, because mere words didn't seem enough.
But I did not. Respectable women weren't raised to touch men, even if they could be considered friends. I'd never even held hands with Eddie, the man I'd once called my fiancé.
"We have to be prepared for him to run off when he sees us," Matt said with a shake of his head. "God knows why he ran when we saw him at the factory."
"You stand by the door at the Cross Keys, and I'll go inside. If I see the fellow who called himself DuPont, I'll signal to you. I think it's
safe to assume that DuPont and Chronos are one and the same."
"What would I do without you, India?"
I rolled my eyes. "My plan is hardly clever. You were probably about to suggest the same thing yourself."
He grinned, proving me right. I smiled back, enjoying the sight of him in a positive mood. "Allow me to praise you every now and again. You deserve it," he said. "You did, after all, charm Dr. Hale, whereas I wanted to knock his head off, on more than one occasion."
"You weren't the only one, by the sound of it. First Chronos himself, after discovering Hale was an apothecary magician not a doctor, and then Dr. Ritter."
"And probably Dr. Wiley too, since Hale enjoyed reminding him that he declared that patient dead when he clearly wasn't."
"I would have dismissed Hale, too, if I were Ritter," I said. "He reminded me of something slimy you find at the bottom of a pond."
He laughed softly. "You can't dismiss someone for that. You can dismiss him for negligence or negatively affecting the reputation of the hospital. I don't know what Hale thought he was trying to achieve by using his magic on that patient and then talking about it to Barratt. He's a fool, and now he's paying for it."
"Or is he?"
He frowned. "What do you mean?"
"Perhaps he wanted to bring publicity to Dr. Hale's Cure All medicine. Having his name in the paper beneath the headline Medical Miracle will bring some attention to it, even though the medicine itself wasn't mentioned. He said himself that sales will increase."
"Perhaps. But he has also attracted the attention of the Apothecary's Guild and found himself unemployed. If he gets a percentage of sales from the Cure All then he might still consider it worthwhile, but if he was paid a set sum to have his name on the label, what good did it do?"
"Whatever happens to him," I said, "thank God for Hale, his magic, and his arrogance. Now we know where to find Chronos."
"Not to mention thanks to Oscar Barratt the reporter."
I'd wondered about Barratt and his interest in magic. It might be worth talking to him to find out if he knew of any timepiece magicians. Then again, if we found Chronos it wouldn't matter. We only needed the one.