The Book of Betrayal

by Melissa McShane

Judy made a face. “Can’t you get her to stop eating that way?”

  “She puts jalapeños on pepperoni pizza. There’s no stopping someone like that,” Malcolm said.

  I finished eating, then readied myself for the day, putting on makeup and styling my hair a little more elaborately than my usual ponytail. It felt once again like going into battle, only this time I was fighting for my life. I gripped the sides of the sink and leaned forward until I was close enough for my breath to mist white on the mirror. “You can do this,” I told myself. “You have right on your side.” My reflection mimicked me perfectly. I didn’t know what I would have done if it had talked back.

  Malcolm had brought a suit with him and now stood at the back door to say goodbye. “What happened to not sneaking around anymore?” I said.

  He smiled and touched my cheek. “No sense inflaming Nicollien feelings by having an Ambrosite walk through the store during their time, or in presenting them with a living reminder of why you are on trial. We want them to remember everything you’ve done for them.”

  “You make sense,” I grouched, “but I don’t have to like it.” I put my arms around his neck and drew him down for a deep, satisfying kiss. “I’ll see you tonight?”

  “I would like to spend the night again, if you don’t mind.”

  I laughed, my irritation dispelled. “If I don’t mind. I think that was the most restful sleep I’ve had in weeks.”

  “Agreed.” He kissed me once more, then let himself out. I locked the door and leaned against it for a moment, then straightened and drew a deep breath. Half an hour, and I’d face…not my accusers, really, but certainly the Wardens most likely to be angry about my violation of the Accords. This might be a difficult four hours.

  The mail was early, so I busied myself with mail-in auguries, feeling increasingly nervous until by 9:57 my hands were shaking too badly to hold a pen. I set the little bundle of envelopes down and practiced calming breaths. Outside, a line of Nicolliens waited. I caught the eye of the woman at the head of the line and smiled. She gazed at me, expressionless, and my smile faltered and fell away. Well, there was no point in waiting any longer. I turned the sign to OPEN, unlocked the door, and opened it. “Good morning, and welcome to Abernathy’s,” I said cheerfully, though my heart was going like a hamster on a treadmill and my palms were sweaty.

  No one answered. They all filed in, taking up places in the usual orderly line, all of them staring at me. I held out my hand toward the first woman. “Do you have a question?”

  “I do,” she said, but made no move to give me her augury slip. “Are you sleeping with that Ambrosite?”

  The hush was so deep it felt like the room was buried in velvet. “If you mean Malcolm Campbell, then yes, he and I are in love,” I said, and my inner self gave me three cheers for how steady my voice had been.

  “You expect us to believe you’re impartial?” the woman said. A murmur went up among the waiting Wardens. I kept my eyes fixed on the woman, who despite her words didn’t look angry, but curious.

  “I’ve always been impartial,” I said, raising my voice, “and you all know it. Remember last July? How many of you came in here wanting auguries so you could find Malcolm and kill him? And I gave every single one of you the auguries you wanted, even though it broke my heart.”

  “We don’t know you gave us the right ones,” said a short, tubby man from somewhere near the center of the line. “You could’ve lied.”

  “If you knew anything about Abernathy’s, you wouldn’t make that accusation,” I said, taking a few steps toward him. “I don’t lie about auguries. I think the oracle would reject me if I did. And if that were true, Judy Rasmussen would be the custodian now. Do you think she’d pretend not to be the custodian if it had passed to her?”

  The little man swallowed hard as the people nearest him took a few steps away, as if he had a contagious disease. “All right, maybe you didn’t lie,” he said weakly. “That doesn’t make you impartial.”

  “I say it does,” said a strong voice, and Harry Keller pushed his way through the crowd, followed closely by Harriet. Physically, he’d never fully recovered from the attack by his familiar, and he now walked a little bent over, leaning on a cane. But his voice was as powerful as ever. “Helena’s made close friends here, and I’m proud to be one of them. The idea that she’d let her affections, however strong, affect her judgment is just ridiculous, and I’ll tell anyone who asks so.”

  Tears prickled my eyes. “Harry,” I said, and flung my arms around him, making him wobble. I hugged Harriet, who was carrying a Tupperware container. “Harriet, you’re free!”

  “As of three days ago. It was quite the ordeal—but I’ve decided to put it behind me.”

  “I’m just so glad. Did you come for an augury?”

  “For moral support,” Harriet said, “and Chocopocalypse cake for two. Dear, why didn’t you tell me you were dating Malcolm? I wouldn’t have pushed so hard for you to date Manuel!”

  “I couldn’t—you know it had to be a secret.”

  “I know. I just think you could have trusted us.” She handed me the cake and patted my cheek. “But that’s all behind us, and Friday I want you and Malcolm to come to dinner. Bring your appetite. You look like you could use some feeding up.”

  I carefully blotted the tears from my eyes. “Thanks, Harriet. Thanks to both of you.”

  “Don’t worry,” Harry said. “Everything will work out for the best. I’ve always believed that. And don’t mind that squidgy little Ragsdale fellow. He got his feelings hurt and he’s lashing out at you because he feels like a fool. The rest of the Board will be more reasonable.”

  “I hope so.”

  “We’re praying for you, dear,” Harriet said.

  When the Kellers were gone, I returned to the woman at the head of the line. “Augury?” I said. “Or more questions?”

  She held up her slip. “Augury.”

  I escaped into the oracle. My hands had stopped shaking, my heart rate had slowed, and I felt cheerful, like Harry was right and the Board would be reasonable. I had friends on my side, and I couldn’t fail.

  But the rest of the day wasn’t nearly so cheerful. I had to repeat my speech about impartiality and the auguries about Malcolm seven more times, whenever enough new Nicolliens who hadn’t already heard it came through the door. Responses were mixed. Some people turned and left without an augury when they heard me admit I was in love with an Ambrosite. Others nodded in agreement when I pointed out that I’d filled all those auguries without refusing one. By lunchtime, the flow of Wardens hadn’t slowed at all. Maybe someone had posted an announcement on the Warden Facebook page—come see the Accords-breaking custodian, today only! Though I was fairly certain the Wardens didn’t have a Facebook page.

  At 1:34, when the final Nicollien had her augury and was out the door, I was exhausted and hungry and wondering where the hell Judy was. She’d better be creating that upwelling of sympathy, because I could really use a sandwich and a Diet Coke. I ran upstairs to put the cake away and find a container of baked ziti, one of the many meals my mother had pressed on me Sunday evening. I opened it as I went down the stairs; even cold, it smelled heavenly. I put it in the microwave and went back to the front of the store, just in case someone had come in, but it was still empty.

  The microwave dinged. I zipped back to retrieve my food, juggling it because the container was hot, and hurried back to the front counter. I felt, superstitiously, that if I weren’t there to greet every customer, the Board would see it as one more black mark against me, and I didn’t need any of those.

  On my way through the stacks, the bells above the door rang, and I hurried faster. “Sorry,” I called out, “be right there,” and emerged into the front of the store to find Acosta and Green standing there. “Oh,” I said. “Um. Good afternoon.”

  “Did we interrupt your lunch?” Acosta said, pointing at the ziti.

  “Um, yes. Sort of.” I took a small bite, chewing caref
ully around how hot it still was, to give myself time to think. Acosta and Green? What had Acosta learned? What had he told his partner? Why were they even here? “It’s been a busy morning,” I said around my mouthful of food. I really had the worst table manners. Not that I cared what they thought of me, but I sort of did.

  “I read the book you sold me,” Acosta said. “Well. Not so much read as studied. It was…enlightening.”

  “I’m glad. Um, how so?”

  “This store isn’t a store, is it?”

  Lucia said answer his questions. “No.”

  “It’s a prophet. It sells books of prophecies.”

  “That’s more or less true. We call it an oracle, and it gives auguries.”

  “And there’s no criminal connection at all.”

  “No.”

  “Except Nathaniel Briggs was a criminal. We weren’t wrong about that,” Green said.

  “Right. He was blackmailing people. But it had nothing to do with the store.”

  “And magic is real,” Acosta said. “You and everyone associated with this store are called Wardens, and you fight a magical battle against evil.”

  “That’s…more or less true.”

  Green and Acosta looked at each other. “What are you going to do,” Acosta said, “if we tell people what goes on here?”

  “Me? Nothing. It’s Lucia Pontarelli you’d have to worry about. And I have no idea what lengths she’d go to to protect the oracle.”

  “Are you threatening me, Ms. Davies?”

  “Of course not. I’m just stating facts. You remember the kind of trouble you ran into when you tried to get a search warrant for Abernathy’s? And that was just a minor annoyance.”

  Once again the detectives exchanged glances. “Will you go on selling us auguries?” Acosta said. “In the future, that is.”

  “I guess so. I don’t have any instructions to the contrary.”

  “No matter what the subject, or what we do with them?”

  “The oracle’s meant to be impartial, detective. It won’t help you commit a crime, and there are certain questions it won’t answer. But beyond that, it leaves the interpretation and implementation of the augury to you.”

  Acosta nodded slowly, his eyes alight with possibilities. “Tell me about your Ms. Pontarelli,” he said. “Who is she?”

  “She’s in charge of the largest magical node in the western United States. She controls law enforcement in the magical community here in the Pacific Northwest. Supervising the magi—that’s what people who can work magic are called.”

  “She’s got no authority to do that. She’s a vigilante.”

  “Wardens have to police themselves. Can you imagine an ordinary cop trying to apprehend a rogue magus?”

  “Still, she ought to have official police sanction,” Acosta said with a scowl.

  “And how do you suggest she get that?”

  Acosta’s lips thinned with disapproval. Green said, “I think we’ve heard enough.”

  Fear touched my heart—fear for them, not of them. “Don’t tell anyone what you’ve learned. Your lives could be at stake.”

  “You let us worry about our lives, Ms. Davies,” Green said.

  “Besides, who would we tell?” Acosta said. “If Ms. Pontarelli didn’t come after us, we’d no doubt be stuck in a psych ward for evaluation. Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with us.”

  “Then help us,” I said impulsively. “You both know the secret now, so why not work with Lucia? It could benefit both of you.”

  “We’ll consider it. Good day, Ms. Davies.” The bells jingled as they let themselves out. I took another bite of ziti, lukewarm thanks to that conversation, and turned my back on the window where Ambrosites had already begun to gather. What on earth would Acosta and Green do next? I hoped they took my warning seriously, because much as I disliked and, yes, feared them, I didn’t want them to die. But I couldn’t begin to imagine what Lucia might have in mind for them.

  I wandered back to the break room, eating as I walked, and helped myself to one of Judy’s Diet Dr. Peppers from the fridge. Call it payback for her disappearing when I needed food badly. I washed down the last of the ziti with a healthy swig and wiped my mouth. Four more hours to go. At least the Ambrosites were less likely to want to lynch me. I tried not to think about how the Board might use their approval against me.

  20

  The woman in the mirror looked like me, though she was confident and professional and I was a writhing ball of nerves. I’d invested in a nice suit and pinned my hair up in a tight roll at the back of my head, cleaned my one good pair of pumps, and now I turned one way and the other, trying to see all of myself at once.

  “Hold still,” Malcolm said, and I felt a tug on the back of my jacket. He was still dressed only in boxers—well, I’d woken unnaturally early, couldn’t fall back asleep, and had decided to cut my losses and get dressed. Now I had about three hours of waiting before the time appointed by the Board for me to stand before them. I needed to pee. Again. Nervous peeing, that was what this day needed.

  “You look beautiful,” Malcolm said. “Beautiful and competent and deserving of respect.”

  “Thank you. I wish I didn’t feel so nervous. I don’t look nervous, do I?”

  “Not at all.” He kissed my cheek lightly. “I’ll make breakfast. You have eggs, right?”

  “I’m not a total savage.”

  We sat and ate eggs companionably, just like any couple. “I’m coming with you,” Malcolm said.

  “You weren’t invited.”

  “No, but there’s nothing in the Accords that says you can’t have someone waiting for you, and I plan to be there when you return. I don’t think I could bear to sit around somewhere else, not knowing what happened immediately.”

  I sighed and took his hand. “I’ll feel better knowing you’re there. You’re sure your family doesn’t need you?”

  “Ewan was cleared last night, and Mother is throwing a celebration today. But I picked him up from the node yesterday, and we had a long conversation.”

  “About what? If it’s not prying to ask.”

  “About the business, and his role in it. Being confined gave him plenty of time to think about who he is and what he wants to do with his life. He’s decided to leave Campbell Security and take a position with a hunting team in Seattle.”

  “That’s a big change.”

  “I told him I approved. I haven’t ever felt as close to my brother as I did yesterday. But he’s telling Mother his decision today, and I’ve decided I don’t want to be there for that little explosion. It will make my break-up with Andria seem like nothing by comparison.”

  “I can imagine.”

  “Which is nothing compared to what you’re about to endure.”

  I sighed again. “I just wish the whole thing were over.”

  “It will be, soon enough.” He kissed the back of my hand. “Let me get dressed, and I’ll drive you there.”

  Malcolm’s new car was a late-model Mustang, cherry-red, that practically screamed “pull me over, copper!” “I’m sad about the Jaguar,” I said. “You didn’t want another one?”

  “I drove that one in memory of my father, and replacing it with another E-type felt like adultery,” Malcolm said. “I’m still not used to this one. I think red was a mistake, but…”

  “…it’s just so compelling, isn’t it?” I ran my fingers over the black leather seat. “It must be hard driving it in Portland.”

  “I’d like to take it on a cruise up the coast someday, really open her up.” Malcolm revved the engine with a wicked smile. “But today, alas, we’re just going downtown.”

  The tribunal building was an undistinguished red-brick office building on the waterfront near the Morrison Bridge. Its many large windows caught the light and reflected it back at the sky, which today was covered with great gray clouds like corrugated steel. Geese thronged the waterfront park, crowding the bike lane with complete disregard for the bikers. Malc
olm slowed to avoid one or two that strayed into his path. “I’d honk, but I’m afraid they’d turn on us.”

  “Geese are vicious. I saw one attack a man once. It was scary.”

  The parking garage adjacent to the office building was mostly full, but Malcolm narrowed his eyes and a space appeared as if by magic, right near the exit. “Did you do that?” I asked.

  “Yes. No, I’m joking. I could have, at the expense of rearranging everyone else’s parking, and that seemed a trifle selfish for an unimportant thing. We’re both young and strong and walking a little ways won’t hurt us.”

  “But you won’t give up that space.”

  “Of course not. I’m pragmatic as well as principled.”

  We held hands as we walked across the tiny plaza between the parking structure and the building. The atrium was as tall as the building itself and unlit by anything but the gray skies outside, which made it feel gloomy and tired. The gray-flecked white granite tiles, two feet wide and outlined in dull, unpolished brass, looked humped in the middle, though I was pretty sure it was an optical illusion. My pumps made sharp tapping noises against them. Malcolm’s feet in their hand-stitched Italian leather shoes made no noise at all, which was either magic or Navy SEAL training, or, more probably, both.

  We approached the white reception desk, which curved in an elongated S midway between the doors and the bank of elevators facing one another. I vaguely remembered the woman who stood there, her dark hair coiffed much the way mine was, her suit a lovely rose color. She smiled as we approached and said, “Your appointment?”

  “Helena Davies to see the Board of Neutralities.”

  Her mouth fell open. She looked from me to Malcolm and back to me again. “Ms. Davies,” she stammered, “I…here.” She thrust a laminated badge toward me that I clipped to my lapel. “Take the first elevator on the right all the way to the top. And…good luck.”

  “I’ll wait here,” Malcolm said, and kissed me, his lips warm and soft on mine. “Good luck.”

  “I love you,” I said, and walked at a measured pace toward the indicated elevator without looking back.