The Book of Secrets

by Melissa McShane

  I rolled onto my back and stretched. My bookcase, with its top two shelves crammed with stuffed animals I couldn’t bear to get rid of, loomed over me. Beside it hung a pair of matched Oriental prints: a woman demurely wielding a parasol and a robed man with his hand on a samurai sword. Sappy bunny eyes stared down at me. I made a face at Mr. Hoppy and took a look at my phone. Two texts from Viv.

  WHERE R U

  U COME TONITE RD PRL

  I transferred my scowl to my phone. Viv meant the Red Pearl pub, and what she wasn’t saying was “I got us both dates, come or die.” Viv was my best friend, but she had this idea that it was her duty to find me a man now that I’d finally wised up and dumped Chet, and since she was the one who’d hooked me up with Chet in the first place, I felt her judgment was suspect.

  I texted back NOT TONIGHT. TIRED FROM NEW JOB.

  A few seconds later, she replied, YOU GOT JOB MUST CELEBRATE!

  I groaned. If Viv was willing to spell words out and use punctuation, she might be hard to ditch. TOMORROW. I’M BEAT. SORRY.

  Bzzt bzzt. YOU WILL BE. VY HOT GUYS

  TOMORROW, VIV.

  There was a longer pause. FINE U OWE ME

  I wasn’t sure I did, but I wasn’t going to argue with her. I tossed my phone at my bedside table, but it missed and skidded across the surface to fall to the floor. I bent to pick it up and knocked something else onto the floor with my hip. The Abernathy book. I picked that up, too, and sat up to look at it more closely. The blue binding looked as fresh as if it had just come from the printer’s, but the edges of the pages were brown-speckled with age. I opened it to the title page, then flipped a few more pages, looking for a table of contents or something that might give me an idea what this book was about.

  There wasn’t anything like that. Instead, the book began with Chapter One on the page following the title page. It was, as I’d seen before, arranged with two columns on each page and a number beneath each column rather than a page number. Well, Dear Reader, it’s nice to meet you, I read. I shouldn’t have asked Warren to request the augury that predicted your existence, but I’ve already broken so many guidelines I don’t lose sleep over that one. I hope you won’t think less of me for it, young lady.

  My face tingled. He couldn’t possibly be addressing me, could he? I thought back over everything I’d experienced that afternoon. No, it was entirely possible.

  I don’t know your name, or what prompted you to pick up this book, but I’d like to think we have a connection over the years. Whether you are a Warden, or a curious bystander, I also don’t know. But I have a strong feeling that Abernathy’s won’t let this book go to just anyone, so for now I’ll assume you’re involved in the Long War in some capacity. Wouldn’t it be a surprise to both of us if you’re a custodian?

  I closed the book with a snap and dropped it on my bed, curling my fingers around the blanket and squeezing so tightly it hurt. Fine. So I was custodian of Abernathy’s, for now anyway. But this book… it was meant for someone who understood what was going on. It felt like spying, reading Silas Abernathy’s cheerful account. He hadn’t anticipated an outsider getting her hands on it. Or had he?

  On the other hand… I was involved now, and anything I could learn would benefit me. At the very least it might help me make an informed decision about whether or not I should remain Abernathy’s custodian. I picked the book up, ran my fingers along the spine, then opened it.

  You should know I’m not the most reputable of characters. But then, if you’re one of us, you’ve probably already heard the dozens of stories attached to my name. Silas Abernathy, war-time deserter, is the most common. I’m not going to defend myself in these pages. This will be a record of my journeys throughout the world and my second life as a stone magus. If you’re looking for gossip, you won’t find it here. And now, since every story must have a beginning, I choose to begin in a village near Kathmandu…

  I sat staring at those three little dots for a minute. Deserter? Second life? Stone magus? I already had more questions than I had answers. I found a scrap of paper to mark my place and stripped off my clothes to put on my pajamas. If I were going to deal with multiplying questions, I intended to be comfortable doing it.

  It didn’t take long for me to forget I was looking for answers. Silas Abernathy had traveled the world, and he’d met so many fascinating people and seen so many incredible things that I soon felt overwhelmed. Unfortunately, his assumption that anyone reading the book would share the same knowledge he had meant he dropped terms like he was scattering seed by the wayside. He referred to stone and steel magi, Neutralities, wards, and the Archmagus without explaining anything about them.

  From context, I gathered that stone and steel magi were capable of different magic, and that stone magi like himself could put wards on buildings or nodes that would protect them from the invaders. Mostly. That was what he did in his travels, go from site to site creating or renewing wards. Nothing about why certain sites needed wards or how he did it.

  He also mentioned a few other Abernathys, relatives of his, who’d been custodians of the oracular store before him. But he never said why he wasn’t a custodian or what it meant that he was a wartime deserter. I checked the front of the book. The publication date was 1957. Presumably that meant World War II. Or—when was the Korean War? I was terrible about historical dates.

  After maybe the fifth time he’d casually mentioned another Abernathy, I closed the book and fired up my laptop. But a quick search turned up no Silas Abernathy or any of the other names he’d mentioned. There was no website for the store—well, Mr. Briggs had implied as much. Even so, it felt as if someone had gone out of the way to make Silas Abernathy and the store disappear.

  I read about a third of the way through the book before a jaw-cracking yawn made me look at my clock. Just after midnight. And I now had a job to go to in the morning. I set the book aside and turned out the light, then curled up under my blanket. But tired as I was, I couldn’t get my thoughts to settle. I stared in the direction of the book, invisible in the darkness, and tried not to remember Mr. Briggs’ body, sprawled on the uneven concrete.

  I ought to abdicate. This wasn’t any of my business. Even without the murder, I was so far in over my head I couldn’t even find the surface. I should turn the responsibility over to Judy and walk away. There would be other jobs. Other, less interesting jobs.

  How selfish of you to insist on keeping this job just because it’s interesting and you’re bored. I pulled the pillow from under my head and put it over my face, groaning. What made me think I was the best choice? Well, Silas had somehow seen me, all those years ago—didn’t that mean something? And Mr. Briggs wouldn’t have hired me if he didn’t think I could do the work, and he surely knew best. He’d said I was exactly what he was looking for. Did that mean he’d foreseen me? The idea that the bookstore, not Mr. Briggs, had chosen me made me feel both comforted and inclined to flee.

  I could ask the oracle. A simple augury, Should I abdicate? A memory sprang to mind, Lucia saying a custodian couldn’t use Abernathy’s on his or her own behalf, so that wouldn’t work. But it wouldn’t really be on my behalf, it would be for the sake of the store… or maybe I was reaching for something that would take the decision out of my hands. Even so, it was worth trying. If I could figure out how to do an augury at all.

  The air under the pillow was stuffy and smelled strongly of lavender. I put it back and closed my eyes. Another memory, this one more recent—a line from Silas Abernathy’s book. I like to say I didn’t choose this path, it chose me, he wrote, but that would deny my responsibility for what came of it. And yet I would have been content to stay as I was, had opportunity not presented itself. I can’t regret seizing that opportunity, whatever the personal cost. When I’d read it, I’d been annoyed with Silas for once again being Mister Cryptic. Now it carried new meaning. This was an opportunity I could never have imagined. What would it mean if I turned it down?

  It took me anothe
r hour to finally fall asleep, but when I did, I’d made my decision.

  wasn’t surprised to see Malcolm Campbell loitering outside Abernathy’s front door the following morning. Even anticipating his presence didn’t make me less uneasy about it. “We’re not open until ten,” I said, hoping to cover my nervousness with an aggressive opening.

  “I’ll wait,” Campbell said. “I hoped you’d let me wait inside.”

  “I don’t know if I should. What about the Accords?”

  “You’re hardly giving precedence to one side over the other just by letting me in out of the cold.” Campbell put the collar of his overcoat up to shield the back of his neck. “You don’t even know what side I’m on.”

  The tip of his nose was red, but that was the only sign the cold had discommoded him at all. Mostly he sounded impatient, the way he had the previous day. “All right,” I said, “just don’t… don’t get in my way.” It sounded weak, but Campbell nodded. I unlocked the door and let us both inside.

  The smell of onion was stronger today, as if the store had bottled it up against some sort of stink shortage in the future. I waved Campbell in the direction of the metal chair and made my way through the bookcases to the break room. Claiming Mr. Briggs’ office, even in so small a way as stowing my purse there, felt awkward. I’d dressed more warmly this day, in a red sweater with a deep cowl neck and black twill pants. Attack of the competent career woman. I’d compromised the look by wearing comfortable shoes, figuring I was likely to be on my feet all day.

  Having settled my coat and purse, I crossed the hall to the office. It felt colder than the rest of the building, which was saying something; the rest of the building was only a few degrees warmer than outdoors. Note to self: find thermostat. It was probably in the basement, which meant…

  I sat in the rolling chair, leaned my elbows on the desk, and buried my face in my hands. I’d have to clean up the bloodstain. I should have worn something scruffy. And I had to mail the catalogues, and Campbell was out there waiting for an augury, and suddenly I wished I knew how to abdicate.

  No. I’m not giving up just because it’s impossible. I dug some paper out of the filing cabinet, found a pen in the desk drawer, and made a list. It occurred to me that this was a way of putting off the inevitable, namely Campbell’s augury, but it was still sensible. I wrote down as many things as I could think of, made a second list of questions I needed answered, and by the time I’d finished both pages I felt calmer, as if I could handle whatever this strange new job required of me.

  It was just after ten. I left pen and papers on the desk and returned to the front desk. Campbell was lounging against it, relaxed as a jungle cat ready to pounce. Today’s suit was as expensive as the first, and he had his overcoat slung over one arm. “You’ve had auguries before,” I said. Campbell nodded. “Then you can tell me how to do it, because I don’t know.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “I’m not sure how appropriate that is.”

  “Appropriate or not, Mr. Briggs died before he could pass on any of his wisdom, and I’m not going to ask Judy Rasmussen even though I’m sure she knows.”

  That made him smile, the faintest tug at his lips. “You’ve met Miss Rasmussen.”

  “She was very clear she thought I didn’t belong.”

  “She would be. I’d forgotten she would have expected to inherit the custodianship.” He let out a deep breath. “I can only tell you what I’ve observed. With luck, that will be enough.” He pointed at the counter. “There should be a ledger there.”

  “There is.” I retrieved the ledger and opened it to the last page with writing on it. “Do you know what these mean?”

  “The name of the person asking for an augury, the date it was given, and the five-digit number is the number of the augury. They’re consecutive.”

  “But I saw Mr. Briggs sell a book without writing anything in the ledger.”

  “Occasionally ordinary people wander in here and buy things. The books are mundane unless they’re selected by the oracle. The custodian. I’m surprised I’m the only one here this morning. Usually Abernathy’s is crawling with knowledge seekers. Write my name and today’s date.”

  I wrote everything using my neatest handwriting, which wasn’t terribly neat compared to Mr. Briggs’. It wasn’t my fault schools didn’t teach cursive anymore. “Now what?”

  “Now I ask my question, and you find the book that holds the answer. Normally I’d write my question down, but there’s only the two of us here, so no worries about privacy.”

  “How am I supposed to do that?”

  Campbell let out his breath in an impatient sigh. “I don’t know. That’s something only you can work out. Are you ready?”

  I didn’t think I was ever going to be ready, but I nodded.

  Campbell closed his eyes. “What—”

  The door opened loudly, startling both of us. Judy Rasmussen, dressed today in a gray coat and matching cap, walked in. She was accompanied by a tall, well-dressed man in his early fifties, with dark hair and round-framed glasses that made him look like a professor of some obscure science. “Campbell,” Judy said. “What are you doing here?”

  “This is a Neutrality, and I have a right to come for an augury,” Campbell said. “I might ask what you’re doing here.”

  “Setting things right. Father, this is Helena Davies. Helena, my father, William Rasmussen.”

  That was awfully polite. I took Rasmussen’s proffered hand, which was firm inside its leather glove. “Pleased to meet you.”

  “I’m happy to be able to clear this matter up,” Rasmussen said. “Did Judy explain how the abdication works?”

  “Abdication?” Campbell said.

  “No, she didn’t, but I—” I said.

  “Don’t worry. It’s painless, and very simple.” Rasmussen hadn’t let go of my hand. I tried to pull away, but he kept a tight grip. “Just a few words.”

  “I’m not—”

  “I wasn’t aware Miss Davies intended to abdicate, Rasmussen,” Campbell said coolly.

  “She’s not obligated to run her every action past you, Campbell,” Rasmussen said.

  “I don’t want—”

  “Let her go,” Campbell said, putting his hand over our clasped ones.

  “Don’t touch me,” Rasmussen said.

  I yanked my hand free. “I am trying to say that I’m not going to abdicate.”

  Rasmussen frowned. “You told Judy you would.”

  “No, Judy said I should abdicate. I thought about it. And I’ve decided not to.”

  “You don’t know what you’re doing,” Judy said, “you’ve had no instruction—it’s your obligation to step down.”

  “I don’t think it is,” I said. “And if you could learn it, I’m sure I can too.”

  “Young lady,” Rasmussen said, “you’re making a big mistake.”

  “Why, because the oracle won’t be under Nicollien control?” Campbell’s voice was still cool, but I could hear the triumph in it.

  “Are you saying Judy won’t be impartial? How dare you make such an accusation?”

  “You objected to Serena hosting the last election. Accused her of applying undue influence, and made yourself look like a fool. Are you surprised when the accusation turns on you?”

  Rasmussen took a step closer to Campbell. He managed to look menacing despite being an inch or two shorter than Campbell. “Say what you like about me, but no one disparages my daughter—”

  “Would both of you shut up!”

  My outburst got everyone’s attention. “Mr. Rasmussen, I appreciate your willingness to help, but I’m not abdicating the custodianship of Abernathy’s. Mr. Campbell, whatever bad blood you have between you, work it out elsewhere. Judy… I like your coat.” I took another deep breath. “Now, Mr. Campbell is here for an augury, and I think that should be private, so unless you have other business, I’ll have to ask you to excuse us.”

  Judy’s mouth hung open a little, and her black-fringed eyes
were wide with astonishment. Rasmussen glared at me, pushed his glasses up higher on his nose, and said, “If you won’t see sense, I’ll have to take steps to have you removed.”

  “You can’t do that,” Campbell said, “and you know it. The Accords are very specific regarding the Neutralities. And I suggest you not threaten a custodian unless you want that getting back to your Archmagus. Which I assure you it will.”

  Rasmussen spat a nasty profanity at Campbell, then turned on his heel and left the store, Judy following him closely. She glared at me as she left, and I smiled pleasantly at her, though my heart was still hammering from that surge of adrenaline. Where had that come from? I never shouted at strangers—I rarely shouted at anyone.

  As soon as the door shut behind them, Campbell said, “Why didn’t you abdicate?”

  “Not you, too!”

  “That was an honest question. You don’t know what you’re doing, and as far as I can tell, there’s no one to teach you.”

  He did sound curious rather than critical. “Because there must be some reason Mr. Briggs chose me,” I said, “and I’m not going to give up without at least trying. If I fail miserably, that’s the time to abdicate.”

  “You realize your failure could be catastrophic to this war,” Campbell said. “I ought to insist you stop now.”

  “You had your chance. Why didn’t you?”

  “I dislike William Rasmussen too much to give him any sort of victory. I realize that’s a personal flaw.”

  “I take it you’re on opposite sides.”

  “As opposite as you can be. Rasmussen is the local head of the Nicollien faction and I’m a colleague of Serena Parker, head of the Ambrosites. To say we’re at odds is an understatement of Biblical proportions.”