The Book of Secrets

by Melissa McShane

  “How did you manage all that?”

  “I have connections.”

  “Because you’re a magus?”

  “Because I run a company that handles these things all the time. Diantha even looks a little like you. Any other questions?”

  I couldn’t think where to start. “How do I contact Lucia?”

  He raised an eyebrow. “That’s not what I thought you’d ask.”

  “It’s the simplest question I can deal with right now.”

  He held out his hand. “I’ll put her number into your phone. That’s the trouble with mobiles these days—no more little black books other people can pry into. Otherwise you’d have all Nathaniel’s contacts already.”

  “Aren’t you a little young to be complaining about the good old days?”

  He smiled again. “You’ll notice I’m not giving up my phone in protest.” He handed my new one back to me. “Now. About last night.”

  “What was that thing? How did it find us?”

  “That was, as I think I told you, an invader. One of the small ones.”

  “That was small?”

  “The big ones, the ones that find a way in where they aren’t noticed and stopped immediately, can be the size of a city block. Have you ever read H. P. Lovecraft?”

  “No.”

  “You probably should. He saw these things more clearly than anyone ever has, and he wrote about them, though he dressed it up in terms of his imaginary mythos to protect the magical community. At any rate, his descriptions are accurate.”

  “But Brian didn’t see it. He said he saw a dog, just before… the end.”

  “They’re good at illusion. They weave it the way a spider spins a web, then wait for someone to fall into it.”

  “Then why could I see the truth?”

  “I don’t know. Possibly it’s part of being Abernathy’s custodian. Nathaniel never mentioned it, but many custodians have abilities bestowed on them by virtue of their positions. Seeing things as they are would fit your job description, as it were. You certainly had to be altered to use the oracle.”

  I leaned against the countertop and crossed my arms over my chest. I didn’t like the sound of “altered.” “Those things can’t be common, or we’d hear about all these mysterious deaths.”

  “They’re not as uncommon as we’d like. Mostly they prey on the weak—sick people, the old and the very young—and the deaths they cause look natural, at least enough that a casual investigation won’t prove otherwise. The one you met in that alley was either stupid or desperate to set up its lure there.”

  “Because no one would believe someone Brian’s age died of a heart attack.”

  “Precisely. I’m sorry I had to shoot him, but he and you would have come in for much different scrutiny otherwise.”

  “And you made an illusion of the shooter fleeing as part of the deception.”

  “Quincy did, yes. I’m not skilled enough in illusion—that’s a paper magus’s specialty.”

  “I don’t—there are different kinds of magi, right? Stone magus, steel magus, paper magus… what else?”

  “Wood, stone, steel, bone, paper, glass.” Campbell ticked them off on his fingers. “I’m—”

  His suit coat made a chiming noise, and Campbell pressed his hand flat against his chest. “Sorry, I’ve got an appointment. Call Lucia. She can answer most of your questions. She should have done that already.”

  “She said she didn’t know anything about Abernathy’s.”

  “There’s a lot about the magical world that doesn’t have anything to do with this store.”

  “Wait.” I took a few steps toward him as if that would keep him there. “I’ve lived my whole life in this city and never saw one of these invaders. Then suddenly I’m dropped into this… magical world… and right away someone I know is killed by one? Isn’t that a huge coincidence?”

  Campbell shook his head. “You want to know the truth?” he said. “The one last night wasn’t there at random. For an invader to be off on its own like that… it was pursuing strong sources of magic, and as Abernathy’s custodian, that now includes you.”

  For a moment, the shadows shifted, and I saw tentacles in every corner. “I’m… what?”

  “You give off traces of the magic that makes Abernathy’s work.”

  “That sounds… eerie. Like I’ve started glowing in the dark.”

  “Nothing so dramatic. Even most magi won’t be able to tell. But invaders definitely will.”

  “Will I be attacked?”

  “They don’t usually go after the strong and healthy. And this store is strongly warded against them. Invaders getting their teeth into a Neutrality… that’s one of my nightmares. Don’t worry about it.” He nodded at me, then left before I could say anything else.

  I stared after him for a few seconds, realized I was shaking, and had to lean against the counter until my hands stopped trembling. It was all very well for Campbell to tell me not to worry—he probably killed three invaders every morning before breakfast just to stay loose. I, on the other hand, had no defense other than the ability to see through their illusions. I wished Campbell would come back so I could yell at him, or punch him in the face, or something to make myself feel better. But at this point there was nothing I could do except keep a careful watch on the shadows.

  I took out my phone and called the number he’d given me. It rang several times without picking up, then went to voice mail. “It’s Helena Davies,” I said. “I need help getting into a safe in the office and I figured you’d know someone who could do that. Thanks.”

  The door opened as I hung up. “Good, you’re alone,” Judy Rasmussen said. “I thought we should talk.” She was in her Jackie Kennedy getup again, wearing a jaunty cap over her dark hair and a pair of black boots I instantly envied. At least I didn’t feel so rumpled as I had the first time she’d entered the store.

  “If you’re going to try to convince me to abdicate, you can forget it,” I said.

  “Do you know about the upcoming augury?”

  “The… is someone on their way?”

  “It’s more than that. Serena Parker is stepping down as local head of the Ambrosites and the Ambrosite Archmagus is coming here for an augury in a few days to determine who should take her place.”

  “But Abernathy’s won’t answer any questions starting with ‘who’.”

  “You wouldn’t understand the details. But it’s a big deal. And you don’t know anything about it.”

  “Then tell me. Or are you going to be spiteful about this?”

  “It’s not something I can explain. Please, see sense. Abernathy’s is going to fall apart unless you abdicate.”

  “I’m doing all right so far.”

  “‘All right’ isn’t exactly a ringing endorsement.” Judy unbuttoned her coat, revealing a short gray jumper over a white blouse. “I’ve been trained to do this for twelve years—”

  “If that’s the case, why didn’t Mr. Briggs hire you?”

  Judy’s lips thinned. “I don’t know.”

  “The store accepted me. I’m the custodian. Look, you know I could use some help. Why can’t you work with me?”

  Judy shook her head. Without another word, she turned and left the store, letting the door slam shut behind her. I watched her through the windows as she walked away, and sighed. Well, if I’d been in Judy’s position I doubt I’d have wanted to help me either.

  I went back to the office to work on the catalogues, but was interrupted by more customers, all of whom wanted to get a look at me. I did my best to stay polite, but I felt like a sideshow freak. Some of them wanted auguries I could tell they’d made up to give themselves an excuse to come in. I collected their payments and made another mental note—Depositing cash, where and how?

  By noon my cheeks were stiff from polite smiling. The pile of addressed and stamped catalogues was slowly growing. I sat behind the cash register on the rickety metal stool and ran my fingers over the worn ke
ys while I waited for the newest “customer” to get bored and leave. I had Mom’s pad thai waiting for me in the break room and my stomach was starting to send messages that it was interested in making its acquaintance.

  The door flew open. “A safe, huh?” Lucia said. She was accompanied by the same blond bruisers I’d seen take Mr. Briggs’ body away. “You,” she added, pointing at the middle-aged man who’d been pretending to browse the shelves, “out.”

  “Thanks for coming,” I said to the man, who scurried away. “You could have been more polite,” I told Lucia, but secretly I was grateful for her forcefulness. “I didn’t expect you to come in person.”

  “I’m more than a little curious about what Briggs had stashed away. Where is it?”

  I led the little procession to the office and took the picture off the wall. “Henry, Maxwell, get to it,” Lucia said.

  One of the men opened a small black satchel and removed the strangest stethoscope I’d ever seen. The tubing and earpieces were normal, but the part you put against someone’s chest was clear glass. Maxwell (or Henry) fitted the earpieces to his ears and pressed the glass bell against the safe door, close to the dial. His partner removed one of those rubber reflex testing hammers from the bag and tapped it against the door.

  A tone like the lowest note on a xylophone filled the room. The man with the stethoscope spun the dial rapidly counterclockwise. “Thirteen,” he said, and waited. It took me a second to realize he’d been addressing me. I scrambled to find paper and a pen and wrote thirteen at the top. The man with the hammer tapped the door again, and his partner spun the wheel, clockwise this time. “Twenty-two.”

  They repeated the steps once more, and the man said, “Five.” He stepped away from the safe and put the stethoscope back in the bag. “That’s left, right, left,” he told me.

  I nodded and stepped to the safe. Thirteen left, twenty-two right, five left. The safe clicked open. “Thanks,” I said.

  “Go ahead and examine the basement,” Lucia said, and the two men left the room.

  “Excuse me? Nobody’s allowed to roam the store without my permission.”

  “It’s part of the murder investigation, Davies, don’t get your panties in a twist. And I don’t want the boys in here for this. It’s possible Briggs stored things in here that people shouldn’t know about.”

  “What about you knowing about them?”

  Lucia gave me a disdainful look. “Just empty it out, Davies.”

  The safe was deeper than it was tall, and full of all sorts of things, mostly manila envelopes with metal clasps. I piled them on the desk and Lucia started sorting through them. “Anything interesting?”

  “Not yet—holy hell,” Lucia said. I turned in time to see her pull out an eight-by-ten glossy photo of a couple of people on a bed, very naked and very intimate with one another. “That’s Mark Curtin.”

  “Should I know him?”

  “He’s a powerful stone magus. And that woman is definitely not his wife.” Lucia opened another envelope. “This is documentation… it’s an affidavit swearing that Sariah Monk bribed someone to gain her place on the Nicollien Council. More photos…this is all blackmail material.”

  “A woman came in yesterday looking for papers she said Mr. Briggs was holding for her. She got very nervous when I couldn’t find them. He had to have been blackmailing her.”

  “This is a lot of evidence.” Lucia shoved some photos into their envelope and dropped it onto the pile. “Suddenly Briggs being murdered makes sense.”

  “You think one of his victims got fed up?”

  “It’s possible. We’re still trying to work out the details. We know the murder was committed with an ordinary knife, not magic. Briggs wasn’t expecting it—he wasn’t fleeing his attacker. And now we know that someone, a lot of someones, had reason to want him dead.”

  I shuffled through the envelopes until I found one labeled EISEN. “What should I do with all this? I certainly don’t want to blackmail anyone!”

  “I’ll take it. I need to know who had a motive for murder. Now, what else is in there?”

  There were a few vials of sanguinis sapiens, a jeweler’s box containing a diamond necklace that made me gasp, and an old pocket watch stopped at 9:52. No books. I sighed. “Not satisfied with the necklace?” Lucia said.

  I almost told her about the missing instruction manual, but decided against making myself look even less competent than I was sure I already did. “Looking for something that will tell me what’s in those safe deposit boxes, or who they belong to, or something like that.”

  “There’s a master list somewhere of the owners. I’ve seen it because I signed for one myself. It’s the best security there is.”

  “I think the fact that anyone could walk in and take the key off the wall says it isn’t.”

  Lucia favored me with her disdainful look again. “Come with me.”

  We went down to the basement, where Maxwell and Henry were busy examining the walls above the filing cabinets, feeling the rough concrete surfaces as if searching for secret doors. One of them pressed the tip of his nose to the wall and sniffed deeply, his eyes closed. Lucia seemed not to think this was odd. “Henry, hand me those keys.”

  Henry—he was slightly shorter than Maxwell, and had a prominent chin—stopped what he was doing and turned to face Lucia. “Those keys?”

  “Did I stutter?”

  Henry glanced at me, then back at Lucia. “I’m not stupid.”

  “No, you’re not.” Lucia walked over to the keys, licked her finger, then gingerly brushed its damp tip across one of the keys.

  Electrical energy zapped a blue-white arc from the keys to Lucia’s finger, and the woman staggered backward into Maxwell. He supported her as she sagged, breathing heavily, cradling her finger to her chest. “That’s just a light touch. Try to hold one, and you’d better hope your will is up to date.”

  “It didn’t do that to me… and I suppose only the custodian can handle them safely.”

  “You got it, Davies.” Lucia pushed herself upright and patted Maxwell’s arm in thanks. “Did you find anything?”

  “Traces of two people,” Maxwell said. His voice was deep and pleasant to match his face and I found I liked him. Not that I knew anything about him other than his ability to crack a safe. “A conversation, then Briggs turns away and the second man stabs him in the back.”

  “Then you know it’s a man.”

  “Maybe seventy percent certain. A man or a tall woman, definitely.”

  “How do you know?” I asked.

  “Glass magi have the gift of perception,” Lucia said. “They can see traces of magic, see the imprints people leave on the space around them. You didn’t see where the attacker went?”

  “It took skill to see him, or her, at all. But there’s nothing that says the attacker didn’t take the stairs.”

  “And yet he didn’t attack you,” Lucia mused. “What else—oh.” She went to the farthest cabinet and reached into the bottom drawer. “This is the register,” she said, handing me a long, skinny notebook bound in brown leather. I opened it to see a list of alphanumeric entries that matched the number-letter combinations on the safe deposit boxes. Next to most of them were names, though some of those names had been crossed out and new names written beside them. Not all the boxes were currently rented, though I already knew this, but a good portion of them were.

  There was a sheet of paper tucked into a pocket inside the front cover. It was a typewritten list of prices, A through G, and it only took me a few seconds to realize they were the rental rates. Finally, something was going my way, though no one who’d entered the store had been interested in renting a box so far. I closed the binder and thanked Lucia, who waved it away.

  “Thank me when this augury is over,” she said.

  “When is it supposed to happen?” I was proud of how casual I sounded, like I was already competent and everything.

  “Next week. Six days from now, anyway. I hope
you’re ready.”

  “It doesn’t sound like a very common occurrence. Why is Ms. Parker stepping down?”

  “She’s accepted a position with the Ambrosite Archmagus’s organization. It’s very prestigious.” Lucia snorted. “Sounds like more work to me, but I’m not a magus and no one’s asking me to take on the job.”

  “Is there a favorite? Or do they really depend on the oracle to choose the new head?”

  “There’s always private wagering, but yes, it’s all up to the augury. I’m sure a lot of people would like it to be Campbell, though nobody would hate it more than him.”

  “He fights the invaders. Like some kind of commando.”

  Lucia laughed. “He was a Navy SEAL once. Don’t let the suit fool you.”

  That explained how he could move like a greased cat. “Why the suit, then?”

  “He owns a private security firm catering to the very wealthy. Has to look respectable to sell his services. But he’s a stone-cold killer when it suits him.”

  Campbell hadn’t struck me as particularly stone cold, but then I hardly knew the man. Even so, the idea made me uncomfortable. The way he’d so casually put two bullets into Brian’s dead body… “You make him sound like an action hero—rich, handsome, influential, ex-military. Does he also have a tragic past?”

  “His father was killed in action four years ago, very unexpectedly, which is when Campbell took up the family business. He doesn’t talk about it.”

  I’d been kidding, and now I felt guilty at being so flippant. “I don’t want to pry.”

  “Then stop asking questions,” Lucia said, but she was smiling like it wasn’t a reproof. “Maxwell, Henry, if you’re done, we should get back. Unless you have any other questions?”