The Book of Secrets

by Melissa McShane

  The door opened. I looked up in time to see Campbell catch it before it could slam against the wall. “What did those detectives want?”

  “To harass me about Mr. Briggs’ murder,” I said bitterly.

  Campbell closed the door as quietly as he’d opened it. “Do they still believe you stole from Nathaniel?”

  “No. Maybe. I don’t know. They said my alibi checks out, but Detective Acosta still thinks I had something to do with the murder. Which is true, just not in the way he thinks.”

  Campbell shucked his overcoat and laid it over the counter. His suit today was a dark, three-piece, pinstriped outfit that reminded me of the picture in the office. He wore a discreet pearl tiepin that probably cost as much as my yearly income, not to mention the gold watch. “I’m afraid there isn’t anything magic can do about that, short of assassination.”

  I laughed, then stopped when I saw he wasn’t smiling. “You could… do that?”

  “The Long War is far more important than mundane concerns. Sometimes it comes down to that.”

  I remembered what Lucia had said about Campbell being a stone-cold killer when he wanted. Right then, I could believe it. “I don’t want anyone murdered.”

  “That wouldn’t help in this case, anyway. It would only draw more attention to the crime. I’m afraid all we can do is wait for the investigation to go cold. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s not your fault. But I appreciate the sentiment.”

  “I came to tell you what I’ve discovered about the illusion cast at the bank. It’s not much.”

  “That’s all right. I was bored out of my mind until the detectives showed up, and now I’m trying not to think about being terrified. This will help.”

  “You shouldn’t be afraid. We won’t let anything happen to you.” He smiled, the nice, genuine smile that made his cheek dimple. “And we have extensive resources to ensure it.”

  His smile, and his reassurance, eased my fear somewhat. “So, what did you learn?”

  “Someone definitely cast an illusion. It was complex, multilayered, which narrows down the pool of suspects. Or would, if I were certain the magus hadn’t come into town Friday morning and then left again. I’m trying not to borrow trouble.”

  “Who do you suspect?”

  “I think you already know. But I’m trying to remain impartial. The truth is Will Rasmussen would lose a lot if he were discovered trying to make trouble for the new custodian of Abernathy’s. And it’s a thin thread to hang his hopes on—the possibility that Judy would work on his behalf, I mean. I believe it of them, but I have personal reasons to think the worst of him.”

  I was dying to ask what they were, but that felt like prying. “If it’s him—I mean, if Mr. Briggs was murdered because someone wanted control of Abernathy’s, why didn’t they kill me too? I mean, they walk past the office and hear me typing, they knew I was there—”

  “First, there’s nothing to say the murderer had to use the stairs. Some magi can pass through walls, or transport between wards, so the murderer might not have passed the office. Second, even if they did use the stairs, they might have assumed you were clerical help. No one had any reason to believe Nathaniel might hire an outsider as the next custodian. And there’s always the possibility that the murderer wanted to steer suspicion away from that motive. Killing Nathaniel alone could look personal. Killing Nathaniel and a bystander would draw attention to the store.”

  “That makes sense. I’ve been alone in this store often enough that…” I couldn’t bring myself to say anyone could have killed me. I rested my chin in my hands and sighed deeply. “Thanks for looking into this.”

  “It’s no trouble. And some of my motives are selfish. I’d love to escort Rasmussen before a tribunal.” Campbell gathered up his overcoat. “I’ll let you know if anything else comes up.”

  “Thanks.”

  Campbell managed to shut the door without a bang. That was either magic, or some kind of Navy SEAL training. I kicked my feet against the bottom rung of the stool. How much longer before I could close up and go home? Too long.

  I spent the next couple of hours in uninterrupted examination of the basement cabinets before concluding that the instruction manual was nowhere in the building. Washing my hands in the sink, I had a thought: suppose the murderer had taken it with him? What would be the point of that? It would disrupt the operation of the store. Even Judy couldn’t possibly know all the little details of running Abernathy’s. I dried my hands on a towel and went back upstairs. It made sense, and yet it didn’t. If the murderer had killed Mr. Briggs to make way for Judy to be custodian, why would he (or she) make Judy’s life harder by removing the manual?

  I called Lucia. It was faster than texting, even if she never did pick up. “There’s supposed to be an instruction manual for Abernathy’s, and it’s missing,” I said. “It might have something to do with the murder. I thought you should know.” It might make me look incompetent, but at this point I was more concerned with the needs of the store than my reputation. I paused on the bottom step. When had Abernathy’s started to mean so much to me?

  The door slammed when I reached the top of the steps. “Hel?” Viv called out.

  “Back here,” I said, and went to meet her.

  “You want to get something to eat and then a movie?” Viv was bundled up against the cold, with a knit cap pulled down well over the shaved spot on her head. The tip of her nose was bright pink to match her hair.

  “I thought you’d have dates lined up for us. You haven’t nagged me about finding a man in at least three days.”

  Viv shrugged. “Shawn was busy, and I wasn’t sure you’d be ready, after Brian…” She grinned and slugged me on the shoulder, suddenly the picture of perkiness. “Besides, you already have a man.”

  “I do?”

  “Your adorable monster-hunting man.”

  “Mr. Campbell is not my man, Viv.”

  Viv hooted. “You are blushing! I was just kidding, but it looks like I hit pay dirt!”

  “Viv!”

  “All right, fine, you want to live in denial, I won’t stop you.” She tugged on her cap. “Anyway, I’m hungry, so what do you say?”

  The temperature had dropped sharply after sunset. I wrapped my scarf over my mouth and nose and breathed in the warm, moist air while Viv’s van warmed up. Her heater was erratic, sometimes blowing frigid air when the heat was cranked to full, but she didn’t have the money to fix it. Viv tossed an empty Diet Coke can into the rear compartment, which had never had seats installed. It rebounded against a drum case and rolled across the floor toward me. “Didn’t I stuff a bunch of plastic grocery bags in here somewhere so you could clean up your garbage?”

  “Probably. I might have used them to pad the drum kit.” Viv started the van and pulled away from the curb. “Let’s go downtown.”

  “Downtown’s always busy.”

  “It’s Wednesday. Nothing is busy on a Wednesday. But all right, we can go somewhere else.” She turned on the radio and cranked up the volume on Meg & Dia’s “Hug Me.” Talking over it was impossible, but I suddenly didn’t feel chatty. I’d almost forgotten it was Wednesday. In two days I’d be expected to perform an augury I didn’t know anything about. What would happen if I failed? At this point I had no reason to think I wouldn’t.

  I pressed my forehead against the cold glass and closed my eyes, letting the gentle bouncing of the ride soothe my nerves. It was time to humble myself and talk to Judy. At worst, she wouldn’t tell me, and I’d… would I abdicate for the sake of the store, even if it meant temporary disruption? I remembered the peace of the oracle, how connected I felt to it. If I really cared about Abernathy’s, I’d be willing to abdicate. And I was.

  “Don’t look so down,” Viv shouted over the music. “What do you want to see? There’s a classic film fest going on at the Academy Theater, or there’s a new Channing Tatum movie—”

  I turned down the volume. “You can choose.”

  “Wow,
you went from normal to depressed in like ten seconds. What’s wrong?”

  “Just thinking about how I should probably have abdicated last week. I don’t know what I’m doing.”

  “You’re doing fine! Don’t you think all those people who keep coming into the store would have told you if they thought you sucked?”

  “It’s not that. There’s this big augury I don’t know how to do, and I don’t want to screw it up. Judy would know—”

  Viv made a dismissive sound. “Who cares about Judy? You’re the one the store accepted. If she had any sense of decency, she’d offer to help you. And you’ll figure it out. I have faith in you.” She patted my knee. “Who’s a good little grasshopper?”

  I smiled despite myself. “You know that doesn’t mean anything.”

  “It will if I say it often enough. That’s how things get meaning, you know, they gather it up over time like a rolling rock gathering moss.”

  “Um, rolling stones don’t gather moss. It’s what they’re known for.”

  “They do if they’re covered with glue. Which this one is.”

  “Do I want to know who covered it with glue?”

  “It was born that way. Don’t judge.”

  We got off the freeway and made our way eastward, but traffic was so heavy Viv had to slow to a crawl. “What is going on tonight?” she exclaimed, and leaned on her horn. “Use the other pedal, jerk!”

  I watched a big Catholic church slide past, its doors open and spilling golden light onto the shallow stairs fronting it. It was thronged with people. “There’s something going on at that church.”

  “On a school night? Insane. We’re never going to find parking.”

  “Walking is good for you.”

  “Not on a night like this. My piercings nearly froze my earlobes solid walking from the van to the store.”

  The heater blasted hot air in my face, sending goose pimples down my arms. “We could get takeout.”

  “I’m sick of takeout. I want to sit in a booth and make suggestive comments about the cute waiters and eat spaghetti Bolognese until you have to roll me out of Fidorini’s.”

  “Funny you want to go there, because a customer just told me about it this morning.” What had Dunlop said was good there? Well, I’d no doubt see it on the menu. Besides, I always ordered lasagna my first time at a new Italian restaurant.

  Fidorini’s small parking lot was full, too. “Let’s try somewhere else, Viv.”

  “This place is supposed to be fantastic. I’m not giving up.”

  “It’s so fantastic everyone in town is already there.”

  “You’re so pessimistic tonight. Give it a chance.”

  After circling the block several times, Viv gave up on parking near the restaurant and found us a spot five blocks away, past the church. The sidewalk was crowded, mostly with families with young children, all bundled up against the cold. I huddled into my scarf and kept a tight grip on my purse. This side of Portland wasn’t a hotbed of crime, but people got mugged often enough you didn’t walk carelessly.

  I glanced up at the sky, sharp-edged like black crystal. I couldn’t see any stars thanks to the orange-yellow light of the streetlamps, but I could imagine the constellations laid out like specks of glitter. Funny how crisp the cold air smelled, even laden with automobile fumes, when Abernathy’s always smelled musty no matter how cold it got. If the store stayed that cold year-round, summer would be pleasant. Assuming I was still there when summer rolled around. I pushed the thought away. There wasn’t anything I could do about it tonight, and I deserved to have a good time.

  I inhaled again and sniffed the scent of rotten eggs. I wrinkled my nose. “Wonder where that came from?”

  “What?”

  “The smell.”

  “I don’t smell anything.” Viv sniffed dramatically. “No, I smell it now. Ugh.”

  The smell was stronger ahead of us, where the sidewalk widened to encircle a concrete planter containing an elm tree clinging desperately to life and a handful of scruffy bushes. As I turned my head, trying to find the source of the smell, the bushes rustled, and an animal emerged. At first, I thought it was a large dog. Then I saw the horns, curved and ridged and black like a bighorn sheep, saw the spiny back and the lashing, fleshy tail, and grabbed Viv’s arm to make her stop. “Do you see that?”

  Viv’s mouth fell open. “Is that a cougar? What is a cougar doing in the middle of the city?”

  It turned its head. Four glimmering white eyes with no pupils or irises focused on us. It took a wobbling step, as if it were trying to find its balance, then another. “It’s not a cougar,” I said. “Run!”

  he sidewalk was too crowded for a full run, but I towed Viv after me, shoving past pedestrians without caring what they shouted at me. Then the screaming started. I didn’t dare look back. Dunlop’s stone ward burned painfully against my stomach. I prayed that meant it was doing its job. How far would its protection extend? Viv was helpless against that thing.

  “What is—” Viv said.

  “It’s an invader! It’s after me! Keep running!”

  Viv looked over her shoulder and screamed. “It’s gaining on us!”

  I let go of Viv’s hand and managed to speed up a little, but she was right—it was faster than we were. At some point, it would reach me, and that would be it. I darted around a couple holding hands and cast about frantically for something, anything that would provide protection. Ahead, the church beckoned worshippers for whatever it was hosting that night. I tripped and caught myself before I could fall. Viv got her hands under my arm and hauled me along. “Keep running!”

  I looked at the church again. A fragment of a phrase came to mind—places of worship to ward. Something Silas had written about churches frequently having stone wards placed on them. I couldn’t remember immediately why churches, but I didn’t care. I could hear the heavy breathing of the monster and imagined I could feel it lashing at my heels. “The church!” I panted. “Inside!”

  I pounded up the stairs leading to the blessedly wide doors, shoving past people, and threw myself inside, going to my knees and breathing heavily. If I was wrong about this, Dunlop’s stone ward would have to protect me, and if not… I closed my eyes and offered up a silent prayer.

  Viv crashed to the ground beside me. “Helena, we can’t stay here,” she said.

  “They’re closing the doors.” One of the doors was swinging slowly shut, but the other was blocked by bodies and still stood wide open.

  Viv gripped my arm so tightly it hurt. “Look at that.”

  I turned around, still on my knees, and pushed my hair out of my face. The invader paced three feet from us, just outside the threshold, its powerful jutting jaw dripping green saliva. It snarled, and tossed its head, then backed away and made a run at us. Viv and I and a dozen bystanders screamed.

  The thing ran into an invisible wall inches from the doorway, rebounded and flipped in midair to land on its feet. The stairs beyond were clear of people now, but I could see fleeing pedestrians on the street beyond, and a couple of people holding up their phones to take pictures or videos. Typical. A terrifying monster comes up Main Street and the human reaction is to get something to put on Instagram.

  Though… “Viv, what did you say it looks like?”

  “A cougar. It’s all thin and its fur is matted. It looks like it’s starving. What do you see?”

  “You don’t want to know.” My heart rate had nearly returned to normal, and I pulled out my phone and called Lucia. I left a brief message, conscious of the people surrounding us, though most of them were on their own phones dialing 9-1-1 or taking pictures. The invader continued to pace in front of the doors, snarling and tossing its horns like it wanted someone to fight. I clutched my phone, my knuckles white, and followed it with my eyes. I’d seen a tiger at the zoo once, pacing its enclosure just like this, and been awed and terrified at how it clearly saw me as prey. This thing had the same look.

  A white truck slowly made
its way up the street and then, unexpectedly, onto the sidewalk. Written on the side in big dark letters were the words ANIMAL CONTROL. Fear gripped my heart again. No. They couldn’t try to catch it, it would kill them with a touch. “Stay away!” I shouted, moving incautiously close to the door. The invader lunged at me, and I shrieked and flung myself backward.

  Four white-clad figures emerged from the doors and back of the truck, then a fifth figure, dark and low to the ground. I’d just registered its chitinous segmented body and circular toothy mouth as Brittany’s familiar when it made a mad skittering dash for the monster. The invader turned in time to see the familiar bearing down on it, knocking it on its side and burying its round maw in the thing’s shoulder.

  The monster howled, sounding like an injured cat, and shook the familiar off. They began circling each other, testing each other like a couple of boxers who’d exchanged blows and knew to be more cautious now. Brittany’s familiar undulated past, oozing up and over the stair’s handrail. What does that look like to everyone else? A dog crawling over the rail?

  The monster made a dart at the familiar, who dove beneath it and heaved up, taking the invader off its feet. It threw the invader to the ground, knocking the breath out of it. The creature slowly stood up and shook its head, and the familiar leaped on it again, once again fastening its teeth where the arm met the creature’s neck. The unearthly howl went up again, making me shudder.

  The familiar worried the invader like a dog with a chew toy, then spat it out and backed away. The invader stood, its head lowered and its legs shaking, and that was when a long white dart came out of nowhere and buried itself in the creature’s left flank. I looked around and saw one of the white-clad figures lowering a gun with a huge telescopic sight attached. She nodded at one of her friends—Brittany, I realized—and Brittany waved her team forward. She was carrying a harness like the one her familiar wore. As I watched, she walked around behind the invader and bent to slip the harness around it. It tried to run, but weakly, as if it couldn’t get its legs to go the right way.