by Cate Martin
And really, he didn't have to whisper to keep his conversation private. My two years of high school Spanish were going to be no help deciphering his rapid-pace German.
I sat on the very edge of one of the two leather chairs and clasped my hands together in my lap. Otto, still speaking into the phone, pushed a bowl of nuts closer to me and gave me an inviting gesture, but just shrugged when I shook my head no.
I know I speak no German, but I was certain that when he hung up the phone, the conversation hadn't quite been over. It was too abrupt. But then he was turning his attention onto me.
"So, how's Sophie?" he asked, folding his hands over his stomach as he leaned back in his chair.
"She's fine," I said. "Benny tells me you're going to name this club after her."
"Benny talks too much," Otto said sourly.
"I hope I didn't get him into any trouble by mentioning it," I said. "He did rather save me earlier this evening."
"Save you?" Otto said with a frown.
"I was lost, and he brought me to you," I said. "I needed to see you."
"Without Edward?" Otto said as if that fact had deep significance.
"I couldn't find Edward, actually," I said, digging in my coat pocket for the photographs. "I just need a moment of your time. I'm wondering if either of these mean anything to you?"
I set down the photograph of the wardrobe first. Otto picked it up with his fingertips, careful not to smudge the image, and examined it carefully before setting it back down with a shrug.
"Well, that was a long shot," I said, then handed him the other photograph.
Otto knew him at once. He didn't speak, and his face didn't change in the slightest. I was sure he was a first-class poker player. But I knew. There was the spark of recognition in his eyes.
"You do know him," I said.
"Yes," Otto admitted, his face still betraying nothing. "Tell me, why does he appear to be dead in this photograph? Is this some sort of trick?"
"No trick," I said. "He looks dead because he is dead."
"Since when?" Otto asked.
"Since last night," I said. "Maybe sooner."
"Oh no," Otto said. "Not sooner. Not even last night. That's not possible."
"How do you know?" I asked.
"Because I saw him myself, with my own two eyes, just this morning, and he was right as rain."
Chapter 14
I didn't know how to answer that. Then things got more complicated as Otto started examining the photograph. Not the image on it, but the photograph itself.
"This feels strange," he said, turning it over in his hands. He scratched at the surface with one fingernail. "I've never seen anything like it."
"Crap," I said, mostly to myself. "It's in color."
"I've seen color photos before," he said, giving me an odd look. "Autochrome. It doesn't look like this. And this paper is so light."
I really hadn't thought this plan through. But that wasn't unusual. I was kind of surprised that Brianna hadn't mentioned this flaw when I told her what I was going to do.
"You know we do odd things at the school, right?" I said, holding out my hand for the photograph, but he didn't hand it over.
"There's odd, and then there's this," he said.
"I don't know how much you heard or saw at Cora Fox's house, but surely that was stranger than this," I said.
"That's just what's so odd about it," Otto said. "I would expect you to commune with spirits and channel elemental forces. But this is like a whole different level of technology. Explain."
I bit my lip. I didn't have to tell him anything. If I refused, I was sure he would just accept it. He might be annoyed, but he wasn't going to demand answers.
But I needed his help.
And as much as I wouldn't trust him in a room alone with my valuables, I would trust him to the ends of the Earth with a secret.
"Channel elemental forces," I said. "It's a bit more complicated than that, but that's the gist of it. And the biggest, most important of those forces is time itself."
"Time," Otto said. "Like H.G. Wells."
"Sort of," I said. "Only there's no machine, and we can't just go wherever we want to go. Well, maybe some witches can, I don't know. But Miss Zenobia, she has stabilized a sort of natural formation that creates a bridge across time. One end lines in 1927, the other lies in my own time. I don't have that kind of power myself; I can only travel across it."
"You're not going to tell me when you're from?" he asked.
"2018," I said.
Otto gave a low whistle. "Now I have a million more questions."
"Most of which I can't answer," I said. "Sorry. Apparently, there are rules."
"Which I'd guess you're breaking just by telling me this much," Otto said with a sly grin. "Okay, just one question. Sophie and Brianna. They're also from 2018?"
"Yes," I said.
"That explains it," he said.
"Explains what?"
"The three of you. I know you said you were from out of town, but that didn't really account for all of the ways you're just a bit off. Not in a bad way," he was quick to add. "It's just, your accents are strange. Some of the words you use are odd. You even walk a little different than ladies from here and now."
"I didn't know we stuck out so much," I said. "Well, maybe I knew Sophie wasn't blending."
"I doubt she blends into the background anywhere," Otto said.
"That's true," I said.
"I still don't understand how I could have seen Danny Bannon alive this morning when you say he's been dead since last night," Otto said. "Am I not understanding how this bridge works?"
"No, I think you've got it," I said. "It's locked on both ends. The wrinkle is that wardrobe there. It has a separate magic to it. I'm not even sure it exists here. I think it might be in Manhattan right now. All I know is that this man, this Danny Bannon, his dead body turned up in it last night in 2018."
Otto rubbed at his head. "This is hard to follow."
"I could explain it better if I understood it better myself," I sighed.
"So what did you need from me?" Otto asked.
"His name, which you gave me."
"And nothing else?"
"Well, if you had seen the wardrobe, that might have been a clue," I said. "Bannon was killed by multiple stab wounds, mostly to the chest but a few to the back, particularly over the kidneys. There were two other murders, but I'm not sure they're related. Someone had their head bashed open, and someone else had their throat slit. But given that I don't understand how the time flow works with this wardrobe, those could have happened at any point."
"And you don't have photographs of those people?" Otto asked.
"I never saw the bodies," I said. "I just felt the murders happening."
"You felt…" he trailed off, looking at me closely.
"Witch thing," I said. I didn't explain further, but I didn't need to. I could tell he understood from the sympathy in his eyes.
He looked back down at the photo of Bannon. "Bannon used to be a big deal in town," he told me. "Back before prohibition, when crime was a small-time game. He tried to keep up with the changing times, but it's been obvious for a while now that he doesn't have the stomach for what the new guys do. I've been expecting him to get into a more legit business, but he's trying to hold his turf. A lot of guys would love to kill him and take over his businesses."
"If one of the other gangsters offed him, there could have been two others killed with him. Associates or whatever."
Otto was grinning at my use of the word "gangster," but he summoned a look of seriousness as he nodded his agreement. "Very likely so. He's been edgy. He keeps guys with him to watch his back. He's been getting more paranoid about meeting strangers as well. But if you wanted, I could come up with a pretext to get you into his house."
"I don't think meeting him will do any good," I said.
"I meant to search for that wardrobe," Otto said.
"Oh. Right. That would
be helpful."
"You don't sound enthused."
"No, it's a good idea, to look for the wardrobe," I said. "But I don't think I should meet him. Or be in his house when I'm likely to run into him."
"Why? He couldn't possibly recognize you."
"It's not that," I said. "Like I said, there are rules. I can't change what already happened. I know he's going to die. If I meet him, I might inadvertently do something that changes things. Say the wrong thing or just look the wrong way, and he gets a hint that I know his fate."
"I didn't think you were here to save him," Otto said. "I mean, he's always been an all right guy by my book, but somehow I doubt you came from the future to save the life of a lowlife gangster."
"No," I admitted.
"So what is the goal here?" he asked.
"Sophie, Brianna and I have a calling," I said. "The bridge across time can't be taken down, so we three guard it. We protect it from misuse. No one can be allowed to change the flow of time."
"So you're here for the wardrobe?" he asked.
"No," I sighed. "Honestly? I don't know why I'm here."
"You said the wardrobe worked by its own time rules," Otto said. "If it's not part of the bridge you guard, then it's not part of your job."
"That's right," I said.
"And yet you're here."
I sighed again. This was worse than getting grilled by Nick. "I just want to understand," I said at last.
"So you want the wardrobe to study," he said. "If Bannon turned up in it dead, it might be something he owns now. I've been to his house; it's just the sort of thing he'd own. His wife is very into anything French. The house is a bit of a gilded nightmare, to be honest."
"I can't take it out of the time flow," I said. "It needs to be around in 2018."
"Well, you can take a look at it without destroying all of history, surely," Otto said.
"I suppose," I said glumly.
Otto took a deep breath then pushed back from his desk to get to his feet. He went to the door, poked his head out and had a few words with Benny, who was still lingering outside. Then he came back to lean against the desk, looking down at me with his arms crossed.
"You should just admit that this is personal to you," he said. "It's not part of your calling."
"I said that," I said defensively.
"But you're not saying what you really want out of this," Otto said. "I can't help you if I don't know what the endgame is."
What was I hoping to accomplish? I couldn't save the dead man, and if he was a criminal, I probably didn't even want to.
"I want answers," I said. The words kept coming out of me, faster than the thoughts could quite form. I had been suppressing these feelings for a while now. "I want to know why it happened, and who the other two victims were. I want to know who did it, and if they are going to do it again. And I suppose this is going to be one of those weird word choices for you, but I want closure."
"Closure," he repeated. "Do you mean revenge?"
"No," I said. "I just want to know it's not going to keep happening."
"You don't want to feel another death," he guessed.
"I don't want to feel another death," I said, little more than a whisper.
"But you can't take the wardrobe away," Otto said.
"I don't think so."
"So the only other way to stop deaths from happening is to get to the source," Otto said. "I can help you with that. And I can make sure the deaths stop."
"But not revenge," I said. "You can't kill anyone on my account. I'm not even really supposed to be here. I'm not of this time."
"But I am," Otto said. "And I don't need a reason to take out someone who's hurting people."
"I don't think it works that way," I said.
There was a soft knock at the door, and Otto pushed away from the desk, extending a hand to help me up from the chair. "Come on," he said.
"Where are we going?" I asked.
"I'm taking you to Bannon's place," he said. "We'll have a look around; see what's going on."
"But no killing," I said.
"I will take no action without your approval," he said.
I let him walk me back out to the street to where his car was ready and waiting, engine already running. He sent a reluctant Benny away then climbed into the driver's seat himself. I mustered a grateful smile when he looked my way before releasing the parking brake.
But inside I was more confused than ever. What was I going to be able to do? I couldn't do anything that would change time, and I had no idea what actions that left.
I really regretted going this alone. I needed my fellow witches with me now more than ever.
And yet, I knew if I asked Otto to take me back to the school to fetch the others, he would do it without question. But I wasn't saying those words.
I had a very strong feeling that I had to see this through. I had always been someone who trusted their own gut. As much as I was starting to question that instinct, given how much I was learning about how magic could influence me without me even knowing, I wasn't questioning it enough to rise to the level of real doubt.
But maybe I was getting close.
Chapter 15
Otto drove down Summit Avenue, past the charm school towards the Governor's Mansion, but turned off and stopped in front of a house about a block off the boulevard.
"This is it," he said, pointing with his chin as he shut off the car's engine. I looked up at the house, a large Tudor style that looked like something out of a book of fairy tales with the icicles hanging from the eaves and the trees and shrubs covered in snow. The upstairs windows were all dark, but two of the downstairs windows were aglow. The curtains were closed so I couldn't see any details within, but occasionally a shadow would pass behind one or the other.
Otto started to open his car door, but I reached out and caught his arm. "Wait," I said.
"I'm just going to take a look," he said, "see who's in there. I won't knock on the door." Then he grinned at me. "I promised no action without your approval."
"Just sit still for a minute," I said. He looked like he wanted to roll his eyes, but he pulled the door shut and sat patiently in the driver's seat, hands resting on the steering wheel.
I sank back into my own seat; the leather still chill despite my body heat. I closed my eyes, took a few measured breaths, then opened my awareness to the world of webs.
Keeping careful hold on the threads that controlled my breathing, I expanded my consciousness out of the car and across the street to focus on the house itself.
As I had suspected, there was no one upstairs, not so much as a child sleeping.
Downstairs was different. I saw five bright clusters of threads moving about. I examined each in turn. None had the feeling of the man who had died inside the wardrobe, Danny Bannon.
Back in the car, I opened my eyes to find Otto watching me intently.
"What?" I asked, touching the back of my gloved hand to my lips in case I had been drooling.
"You were gone," he said.
"And I'm back," I said. "Bannon isn't in there."
"How can you be sure?" he asked.
"I went through the whole house. There are five men in there, but none of them are Bannon. At least, I think they're all men. Their energy felt very masculine to me," I said.
"You went through the whole house," he said.
"That's what I said."
"I believe you," he said. "So Bannon isn't there, but five other guys are. What did they look like?"
"I don't know," I admitted.
"Right," he said, nodding to himself. "You said they felt masculine. Which would be a weird thing to say if you had been looking at them. Witch thing?"
"Witch thing," I agreed.
If someone had told me just a few months ago I would describe something I did as a "witch thing" with a completely matter-of-fact air, I'm not sure what I would have made of that. Things changed so fast.
"Also, the wardrobe is definite
ly there. I didn't think it would be, but it is. I sensed it on the second floor."
"They can't be Bannon's bodyguards, since you said Bannon wasn't there," Otto reasoned. "They might work for Bannon and are waiting for a meeting."
"There was a tense feeling of expectancy," I said, remembering the glow to the threads. "They are waiting for something."
"For someone to come, or for it to be time to go," Otto said, tapping his chin as he mulled it over.
"Where could Bannon be?" I asked.
"It's Saturday night," Otto said. "He'll be at the Wabasha Street Speakeasy."
"He'll be out all night," I guessed. Otto gave something between a shrug and a nod. "So we'll wait here for these guys to leave."
"And if they don't leave?" Otto asked.
"Let's assume they will and wait a bit before we ask that question," I said. Otto shrugged again, then turned around to lean into the back seat. He came back with a bearskin blanket and tucked it around both our laps. I slipped my hands beneath it, once more regretting my lack of modern winter gear.
"So, 2018," Otto said conversationally.
"I really can't tell you anything about it," I said. "Sorry."
"Fair enough. I'm just thinking, that explains a bit about you and Edward," he said.
"Me and Edward? There is no me and Edward."
"My point exactly," he said.
"I don't follow," I said.
"Don't be coy. I've seen the way you look at each other. There should be a you and Edward," Otto said with a teasing grin.
"That's not… I've never… well, but Ivy…" My cheeks were getting hot in a way that had nothing to do with the cold air. "The way we look at each other?" I finished lamely.
"You heard me," Otto said.
"You're making trouble," I said.
"I do that," he admitted. "I especially enjoy making trouble for Edward. He's far too comfortable in what shouldn't be his life. But I'm not making trouble now. You know I'm being honest."
"There is Ivy," I persisted.