“If you let me sign the contract—”
“I don’t know how to create the contract. That’s probably in the manual, too.”
Judy was again silent for a moment. “I don’t know.”
“Well, you’re the one who’s been so hot for me to give up the power! If you don’t know, who does?”
I heard her sigh. “The truth is, nobody knows how long it might take for the oracle to choose a successor. I think it would be shorter than when Silas Abernathy abdicated, because at least I’ve been trained, but we can’t count on that. It could be a week, maybe even two, where the store is in flux and no auguries can be sold. Anyway, you abdicating won’t help with the augury tomorrow, and even if it did, I don’t know how to do it either.”
I slumped against the counter. “What happens if the Ambrosite augury isn’t performed? There’s no leader?”
“They have to choose a leader the old-fashioned way. Ambrosites love ritual and hierarchy. They won’t leave the leadership position open for however long it takes the oracle to choose a successor. So the Ambrosite Archmagus will choose a successor from a pool of likely candidates, using criteria like, I don’t know, loyalty to the cause and how willing they are to kiss her butt.”
“That’s pretty harsh.”
“I don’t like Ambrosites. They think rules are more important than people. Anyway, the point is, you don’t have to worry about the Ambrosites suffering if you don’t perform the augury. They’ll have a leader no matter what. Are you serious about abdicating?”
“Wait. Just wait.” What if that was the point? “Judy, who would be in line for the leadership if I can’t perform the augury?”
“I don’t know. I’m not an Ambrosite. Why do you care?”
“I don’t. Maybe. What if that was the point?”
“What?”
“What if Mr. Briggs was killed specifically so the augury couldn’t be performed? What if the murderer knew how to manipulate the succession so they’d be the one chosen by the Archmagus, and they weren’t totally sure the augury would choose them?”
“That doesn’t make any sense. Whoever succeeded Nathaniel would know how to perform the augury.”
“Except you said the instructions were in the manual. So one of two things could have happened. Either the murderer believed you would be the next custodian, and stole the instruction manual so you couldn’t perform the augury, or they believed I would be the custodian and counted on me being incompetent enough not to be able to do it.”
“You’re making a lot of guesses.”
“But I know how to verify them. I have to go.”
“Are you abdicating or not?”
I held the phone away from my head and looked at the display, imagining Judy’s eager, frustrated face. What was my duty, here? Should I really hold onto the oracle when I knew so little, just to make myself happy?
“Yes,” I said. “After the store closes today. If neither of us can do the Ambrosite augury, it doesn’t matter if Abernathy’s is functional or not. But either way, I want what’s best for the store, and I think that’s you.”
I hung up before I could hear her reply, and immediately dialed Lucia. “I think I know who the murderer is,” I said, “or at least a handful of people it might be. Who’s in line for the Ambrosite leadership? Call me.”
I shoved my phone into my pocket, once again annoyed by how it didn’t fit, and leaned against the counter. I didn’t want to abdicate. I wanted this store more than anything. But I had to admit that most of my reasons for that were selfish ones, and if I really cared about Abernathy’s, I’d want what was best for it. And I was pretty sure that wasn’t me.
The door eased open, letting in Campbell and a gust of freezing air. “Good afternoon,” he said. “I’ve come to use my safe deposit box.”
“You’re the first one,” I said, “at least the first once since I started here.”
“It’s really only a sideline for Abernathy’s,” Campbell said as he followed me to the basement, brushing rain off the shoulders of his overcoat. “The wards on the building are strong enough to keep casual thieves out, and the magic on the keys dissuades everyone else. But First Security Bank is where most of us go.”
“That’s where Mr. Briggs banked.”
“It’s owned by a number of magi. It provides special services to the magical community.”
I turned on the light and got out the register. “What number?”
“D118. But you should check that against the book. I might be lying.”
I matched him smile for smile. “I’m not completely gullible.”
“Not gullible at all, I’d imagine.”
“I don’t know why you’d say that. I know nothing about magic and I believe everything people tell me about it.”
“Being able to see through illusions goes a long way toward preventing you from falling for lies. Not that I think many of us would lie to you.”
“Only the murderer.”
Campbell paused in the act of extending his key to unlock the box, which was the size of a four-slot toaster. “You know who it is?”
There was a tension to his body that hadn’t been there before. I’m sure a lot of people would like the Ambrosite leader to be Campbell, I remembered Lucia saying. Stone-cold killer. He’d shot Brian in the chest with no hesitation. And he’d as good as threatened to kill Detective Acosta.
“No, of course not,” I heard myself say. “But it had to be one of the magical community, right? And most of them have been in here over the past week. It’s possible I talked to him or her.” I swiftly turned my key in the lock and pulled the box out of its slot. “I’ll be upstairs if you need anything, but now I’ll give you some privacy,” I said, and walked up the stairs at a normal pace. Once I was far enough away that I couldn’t hear him moving around, I ran.
I pulled out my phone as I wove through the stacks, listening to the distant whispers and wishing I understood them. But I put it away before I called Lucia. I didn’t dare leave this as a message for her—suppose Campbell followed me, and overheard? I’d have to pretend everything was normal until he left, then I would lock up the store and wait for Lucia, and to hell with not closing mid-day.
The door slammed open, and I emerged from the bookcase warren to find Ross Dunlop removing his gloves and fedora (or trilby). Rain was falling heavily, and through the windows I saw that the cars parked along the street already had half an inch of frozen slush layering them.
“Cold day,” I said. It was inane, but I was shaking at how close I’d come to revealing what I knew to a potential murderer.
“Very,” Dunlop said. “How are you? I heard you were attacked.”
“Yes, and thanks for the ward. I think it helped.”
“Then it worked as intended. May I see it?”
I held it out to him. He fingered the white patina and said, “It definitely activated. You’re lucky. Here, I’ll renew the ward and you can have it back.”
“Thanks.” I tucked the stone disk back under my shirt. “What can I help you with?”
“An augury.” He handed over the slip of paper.
“Sure thing. If the weather keeps up like this, you might be my last.”
“The day’s barely half over yet. I wouldn’t worry.”
I unfolded the paper. How can I achieve my current goal? “I meant my last as custodian. I’ve decided to abdicate.”
His eyes widened. “That’s a surprise. What made you change your mind?”
“I realized I’m not the most qualified person. I think it’s important Abernathy’s be run by someone who’s trained to it.”
“You mean Judy Rasmussen. But she’s a Nicollien in sympathy, if not in name.”
“I don’t think she’ll be biased.”
Dunlop shrugged. “You’re the one making the decision. I hope you won’t regret it.”
My phone buzzed. I pulled it out. It was Lucia, with a list of names:
SARAH SHORT
&
nbsp; BILL WHATLEY
ROSS DUNLOP
RYAN PARISH
No Campbell. So much for that theory. I glanced at Dunlop. “I didn’t know you were an Ambrosite.”
“It’s not like we wear signs.” He smiled pleasantly.
“I guess not.” I moved off into the stacks—
and once again found myself in a windstorm. Books flew off shelves and hit the floor, some of them cracking open and releasing pages into the wind. They fluttered around me like maddened sparrows, striking my cheeks and forcing me to hunker down with my arms over my head. “No augury?” I shouted. “I understand!”
But the storm didn’t abate. Books began flying at me, battering me. I stumbled away from them and ran down the passages formed by the bookcases, ducking and weaving to keep ahead of the books. I turned around once, and a fat volume struck me so hard on the forehead my vision blurred. Swearing, I spun around and began searching for an exit. The whispering was so loud I could only call it that because it had that same hissing quality I was familiar with. It sounded like the roar of a jet engine overlaying that quiet, sibilant hum.
Then the noise, and the wind, were gone, and I stood at the center of a set of four bookcases, all facing each other. Facing me. I turned slowly, waiting to be attacked again. Instead, books drifted from all four cases, floating along the way Master Your Potential! had the first day Campbell had shown me magic. They wove a pattern, trailing blue light through the air that lingered the way a Fourth of July sparkler leaves a glowing line, only instead of fading, these grew brighter, spelling out words:
GRAVE DANGER
“It’s not Campbell,” I said, “and nobody else is in the store…” I stopped, then pulled out my phone and thumbed back through my contacts. Ross Dunlop. He was on my short list. But he was Mr. Briggs’ friend, he’d given me the stone ward…
… that had activated when the invader appeared, before the thing was close enough to touch me. Or had it activated to call the invader to me? If Dunlop was the murderer, if he’d wanted to become the Ambrosite leader, he needed me out of the way as well. And how better than to let an invader do his dirty work?
It was just a guess, not even close to evidence, but it was easy enough to prove. Campbell might not be a stone magus, but surely he knew enough to tell what the ward’s purpose was? I needed not to let Dunlop know I suspected him, pretend ignorance of his possible crime. If I was wrong, how embarrassing, and if I was right, grave danger might be exactly what I’d face.
“Thanks,” I said, and the books began flying faster, the light growing brighter. Once again, I read the words:
GRAVE DANGER
The whispering started again. It seemed to be coming from directly overhead. I looked up.
An enormous black oozing thing clung to the high ceiling, pulsing and bubbling like a tar pit. Long tendrils waved in the air, stretching out toward me. It was almost big enough to cover the ceiling, big enough that if I fell into it, or was dragged into it, I would disappear entirely. I screamed and ran, not knowing where I was going.
The tendrils came after me, curving around the bookshelves in their path. I crouched low, imagining I could feel them brushing against my hair or my neck. But I couldn’t run hunched over. I stood and sprinted, using the bookcases to carom off and give myself more speed. The whispering followed, surrounding me like a cushion of sound. I shut my ears to it and moved faster.
When I finally emerged from the oracle, my chest felt like it was going to explode. I managed to avoid running into Dunlop, remembering despite my terror my suspicions of him. Not that it mattered now. He might or might not be the murderer, but with the enormous invader on my heels, this wasn’t the time to worry about that.
“We have to get out,” I panted. “There’s an invader in Abernathy’s and it’s coming for us.”
Dunlop made no move to flee. Instead, he stepped forward and took my arm, holding me painfully tight. “It’s coming for you,” he said. “Unfortunate, really, but you left me with no other choice.”
tried to pull away from Dunlop, but he kept a firm grip on my arm. “I can’t afford to let tomorrow’s augury go forward,” he said. “I wish I’d known you were abdicating sooner, or all of this could have been avoided.”
“You killed Mr. Briggs just so you could become the next Ambrosite leader?” The ceiling outside the oracle was empty. I couldn’t bear the thought of what the invader was doing to it on the inside.
“Nathaniel wasn’t willing to fake the augury on my behalf. Thirty years of friendship, and he threw it all away for something so trivial. It’s not as if anyone would know.”
“He would have.”
Dunlop shrugged and, to my surprise, released me. I took a few steps toward the bookcases—but where could I possibly go? He stood between me and the door. “It will kill you too,” I said.
“I’ll be long gone. It will be so tragic, too. The lovely young custodian, cut down by invaders who took advantage of the weakened wards to feed on Abernathy’s.” Dunlop drew a gun from somewhere beneath his coat. “Now, get back in there like a good girl so it can kill you.”
I stood still. “If you shoot me, they’ll know it wasn’t an invader. I’ve already alerted Lucia to suspect you. You won’t get away with it.”
“Circumstantial evidence. And by the time it all comes to the surface, I’ll be the Ambrosite leader and in a position to bury it again. Lucia Pontarelli may have power over the Neutralities, but she has no authority over the magi.” He gestured with the gun. “Get.”
I backed away, hoping I was right about the location of the shelves. “The oracle’s not active. That thing can’t get me.”
“It will break through the last of the wards soon enough, and then Abernathy’s won’t exist anymore. No protection for you.”
I took a few more steps. “That wasn’t a stone ward, was it? What you gave me?”
“There’s no such thing as a personal stone ward. I figured you wouldn’t know enough to realize that. But when my expensive illusion failed to get you arrested, I had to try something more to get you out of the way.”
“You paid for an illusion. It wasn’t Mr. Rasmussen at all.”
“A picture of you, a strand of your hair, and an origami sculpture bought at an exorbitant price, and suddenly Helena Davies withdraws money from Nathaniel’s account. It sounds simpler than it was. But I couldn’t afford to let that augury go forward.”
I laughed. It sounded forced, but it felt like defiance. “Mr. Dunlop, I never knew how to perform the Ambrosite augury. You went to all that trouble for nothing, when all you had to do was wait for me to fail tomorrow. But why did you weaken Abernathy’s wards?”
“Are you hoping to stall? I’m not sure why.”
A shot echoed through the still air, then another. Dunlop dropped his gun and clutched his shoulder. Then he collapsed.
“She was waiting for that,” Campbell said.
I sagged against the nearest bookcase, holding tight to its shelves so I wouldn’t fall. “I forgot you were here.”
“Really? Then what were you stalling for?” Campbell stuck Dunlop’s gun in his waistband at the small of his back and crouched over the bleeding man. “He’ll live to stand trial, if you were wondering.”
“Is it bloodthirsty of me that I don’t care? And I was just hoping to be able to hide in the stacks.” I looked up at the ceiling, where a heat haze was, against all reason, bleeding across its high surface. I pointed. “What’s that? Please tell me—”
“There’s an invader there. A big one. Incorporeal, and if Dunlop weakened Abernathy’s wards—why did he do that? I missed the first part of your conversation.”
“He murdered Mr. Briggs so he could be the Ambrosite leader.”
Campbell stood, taking off his suit coat and tossing it over the counter. “If the wards were weakened, he could have traveled between them and somewhere else. Into the basement and out again, without knowing you were in the store.” He stuck his own gun i
nto his waistband and stood, hands on hips, staring up at the invisible monster. “I think we may be doomed.”
“Can’t you fight it?”
“Something that size requires several steel magi working together. I can call for a team, but it will be too late for Abernathy’s. It will consume the store’s magic, and it will kill the oracle. You need to get out of here.”
“No.”
Campbell looked over at me. “What?”
“This store is my responsibility, and I’m not leaving until it’s out of danger.”
“I could toss you out the door and lock it.”
“I have the only keys.”
Campbell swore. “Well, if you’re not leaving, I hope you have some idea of how to fight it.”
The whispering rose again, and by the look on his face, Campbell could hear it too. “What is that?”
“I think it’s Abernathy’s, trying to communicate.” I ran to the counter and tore a sheet from the back of the ledger. “Quick, write an augury!”
Campbell took the paper and scrawled a few lines on it. “Why?”
“So we can get inside.” I folded the paper without looking at it and took Campbell’s hand. It was firm and warm and much bigger than mine, and I locked my fingers with his and said, “Don’t let go.” I pulled him forward with me into the stacks.
It was like stepping into a bowl of Jell-O, cold and squishy and resisting my movements. I immediately felt a tug on my arm as Campbell met even more resistance than I did. I took another step, dragging Campbell with me. He weighed a ton. I ducked my head, pushing forward as if facing a stiff headwind, and said quietly, “If you want to live, let us in.”
Then the pressure was gone, and I stumbled and fell to my knees, still clutching Campbell’s hand. I heard him land hard on the linoleum and curse. I looked up. The enormous black monster still clung to the ceiling, its tendrils flailing as if seeking something out.
Campbell pushed himself to his feet and drew a long steel knife from his left sleeve. “I wish I hadn’t wasted bullets on Dunlop,” he said. “Though I still wouldn’t have enough steel rounds to kill it.” He shifted the knife to his left hand and drew his gun with his right, then shot thirteen times into the thing’s center. It howled the way the “cougar” had, and struck at us. Campbell grabbed me and bore me to the ground.
The Book of Secrets Page 18