Halfway Hexed (11 page)

“Really? I thought I’d managed pretty well from here.”

Barrett laughed, a short shotgun blast of hearty mirth. “So you have. Should I offer my hand now or would you refuse to shake it? Perhaps we’d better wait until our business is concluded. Now, let me see. You know Gwen, of course.”

I glanced at Gwen and the sleek silver-haired woman who had come in behind her.

“Do you know Margaret Thornton?” Barrett asked.

“Only by her impressive reputation,” Bryn said, and to the Winterhawk, he did extend his hand. “My father doesn’t have any interest in politics or state security, but he speaks highly of you.”

She had light green eyes, made more striking by dark gray liner and very black lashes. She wore a navy trench coat over charcoal trousers and tall black boots. She looked like a former Bond girl who’d turned spy herself.

“You’re in a bit of trouble, my lad. Let’s see if we can’t get you out of it,” she said crisply. Then she turned her gaze onto me. She glanced up and down. I was wearing a simple black turtleneck with black jeans and brown cowboy boots. Probably I should’ve worn slacks and high heels, but I hadn’t known what to expect, and jeans and boots work better for me when I end up in a scuffle or running for my life.

“And here we have the child who started it all,” Mrs. Thornton said. “Well, you do know how to make an entrance onto the world stage, I’ll give you that, but, given the lack of magical talent, perhaps you should have tried your hand at acting and left the witchcraft to real witches.” From over her shoulder, Gwen smiled.

“Actually, I’m a pastry chef.”

“Indeed? And the slight bulge in the back of your sweater, is that a cake-decorating device? You have it on your person in case a cake happens to wander by in need of icing?”

I blushed. She’d spotted the gun. “No, ma’am.”

“So you have a third occupation then? Pastry chef. Poorly trained upstart witch. And armed bodyguard for Mr. Lyons?”

“Well, now and again he does need rescuing,” I said.

John Barrett, Gwen, and Bryn all laughed.

The Winterhawk didn’t smile, and her green gaze never left mine. “Not terribly often I should think.”

“No, ma’am. Not often.”

“Are you good with a gun?”

“I mostly hit what I aim at, but I suppose that’s true of a lot of people who know how to handle a gun.”

“Not necessarily. Gwen, what do we know of Miss Trask’s skill with weapons?”

“She’s highly skilled. Excellent accuracy even during times of extreme stress.”

So they’d been checking up on me? Who’d told them I was good? My friends and neighbors? Guys from the werewolf pack? Couldn’t have been the faeries. They don’t normally fraternize with witches, excepting Momma, of course.

The last thing I wanted to talk about was how I was a natural with weapons because that might lead to how I’d probably inherited my ability from my faery knight father, which was something I was not going to tell.

“Well, I’m a Texan. Guns are kind of a hobby here,” I said. “Anybody want coffee or tea?”

“We had a very early breakfast, so tea and biscuits would be welcome,” Mr. Barrett said.

“Jenson’s not here,” Bryn said.

“I can manage,” I said quickly, anxious to escape for a few minutes.

“Let’s not stand on ceremony,” Mr. Barrett said. “I’ll help you. It’ll give us a chance for an informal chat. Gwen, get set up in the dining room.” Seeing Bryn’s dark expression, Barrett added, “If that’s agreeable to you. As I’ve said, our rooms—such as they are—won’t accommodate a formal interview. The alternative would be for you and Miss Trask to return with Margaret and myself to London while Gwen finishes up the investigation here.”

“The dining room’s fine,” Bryn said.

I turned toward the kitchen and felt metal slide against my lower back. I turned sharply. Mrs. Thornton had my gun and was tucking it into her pocket. Annoyingly quick for an old lady!

Barrett smiled. “Now, Maggie, I don’t think the young lady was going to assassinate me.”

“Definitely not before I served the tea anyway,” I said tartly. “That wouldn’t be good manners.”

Barrett laughed heartily and followed me to the kitchen.

I motioned for him to take a chair, and I put on a kettle of water. I took out two silver platters. One of them had a swirled leaf pattern etched in it, but the other had stars and planets. I smiled, wondering where they’d found the second pattern. Bryn and his celestial magic.

Barrett asked casual questions about my childhood in Duvall and about my friends and my divorce. I acted like I wasn’t paying too much attention as I answered, but, of course, I was.

I made cucumber sandwiches and arranged cranberry scones, gingersnaps, lemon curd, strawberries and orange wedges, assorted cheeses and smoked salmon, and cracked pepper crackers on the tray.

I scooped some tea leaves into the platinum-rimmed teapot and poured hot water over them.

“There’s something rather important we need to talk about. Before I begin, I want to assure you that you won’t have to make any decisions today.”

A chill coursed down my spine. He was going to ask me to betray Bryn, and, if I didn’t, there would be some terrible consequence. I leaned back against the counter to brace myself.

“I know that your mother doesn’t get along with your grandmother, but have you considered that there are two sides to every story?”

I stared at him. My grandmother? What was he talking about? My granny had died when I was young.

“Your grandmother would very much like to get to know you, and if you chose to come to England, to live with her for a time, you could get the very best training available, beginning your instruction with her. An unparalleled opportunity. She was one of the most celebrated teachers at the Paisley School, you know.”

I realized too late that I was gaping at him in shock. I tried to compose myself, but he’d already seen.

“Did they tell you she was dead?” he asked.

I couldn’t answer. Was he lying? Or was this another enormous secret that Momma, Aunt Mel, and Edie had kept from me?

How could they?

Barrett sighed. “I’d intended to say so much more, but I suppose—” He shook his head. “That’s enough for now.”

I sank into the chair, staring at him, bewildered and overwhelmed. Did I have living family that I’d never met? Why had Momma and Aunt Mel lied?

“What did she do to them?”

“Sorry?” he asked, putting the teapot and cups and saucers onto the second tray.

“Why didn’t they want me to know her? What did she do to them?”

“They had a falling-out. I don’t know the details. Only that she regrets the estrangement.”

“Uh-huh.” There was a large lump in my throat. I couldn’t imagine what in the world could’ve happened to make them claim their own momma was dead. It must have been something very bad.

“There is one other thing to consider.”

“What?”

“Young Lyons.”

I stiffened. Did John Barrett really think he could bribe me with information?

“He’s got tremendous potential, but he’s keeping very dangerous company. It’ll be the death of him, this underground movement.” Barrett shook his head.

I kept my face perfectly still. No way was I going to let him trick me into admitting anything.

“Most of them are misfits and troublemakers. Not a great loss to the craft, but Lyons and Knobel are the greatest minds of their generation. No one wants to see a pair of wizards who have been awarded the Granville Prize destroyed. You spoke earlier of rescuing him. I’d like to help you do that.”

You could’ve knocked me over with a soufflé.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said woodenly.

“I don’t expect you to confirm or deny his involvement in the Wizard’s Underground. Or to advise him to leave it. I’m sure no one has that much influence over him. That’s the trouble with geniuses. It’s hard to dissuade them from their own judgment. But he does seem very taken with you, and if you came to London, perhaps he would, too. Think about it. That would be good for you both.”

At first, I was speechless. It was like he’d sat down and said, “We’d like to make you an astronaut so you can fly a rocket ship to Pluto. It’ll be good for the space program.”

“Everything’s ready. We should take it to the dining room,” I said and picked up the platter with the tea, making sure the cream and sugar bowls were there with the cups and saucers.

“One last thing,” he said, lifting the food platter. “During the interrogations, things will be done that won’t be pleasant. Try not to hold it against us.”

Chapter 12

When I entered the dining room, I was still reeling from Barrett’s last remark—and from everything that he’d said. I really wanted to talk to Bryn alone, which also gave me a jolt because normally when I need to talk something over, I always turn to Zach or my best friend, Georgia Sue.

Bryn sat at the head of the table, signing some document. I poured him some tea and set the cup next to him while Barrett and Gwen helped themselves to tea and food.

“President Barrett, you’ll want to see this,” Gwen said, passing a sheet of paper to him. The fake fax.

He looked it over, silently, for a long time. Finally, he said, “It’s a forgery, of course, but a very convincing one. I suppose we can guess who sent it. I got a message this morning that Andre didn’t come into work yesterday. I hope his illness isn’t anything serious.”

Bryn never looked up from the document in front of him. He initialed some sections and put an
X
through others. When he finished the last page, he slid it to Gwen.

“Should we get started? I’ve got a six o’clock dinner to attend,” Bryn said.

“You can’t be serious,” Gwen said.

“If I’d been given more notice of this, I could’ve canceled, but I wasn’t. I’m supposed to give a speech, so failing to appear isn’t an option.”

“That won’t be a problem. If we’re not through with everything today, we’ll continue tomorrow, and Miss Trask can join us for dinner tonight,” Barrett said.

“She’s coming with me. She did an elaborate chocolate sculpture for the event and will be needed to supervise its assembly.”

The DeeDAW dinner! Bryn wanted me to go? For the love of Hershey, they’d probably try to toss a bag over my head and drag me out. Well, maybe not in front of witnesses, and I definitely didn’t want to get stuck with the wizards, so I just nodded and poured another teaspoon of sugar into my teacup. I probably deserved a lot of credit for not letting my surprise show, but after the kitchen conversation, I guess not much would shock me for at least a week.

“Do you want me to start with a statement?” Bryn asked.

“No, I have a copy of your statement. I’ve read it thoroughly,” Barrett said. “In the interest of time—fortunate since you have a dinner engagement—we’re going to help you to be exact in your account of the events as we question you.”

Bryn didn’t say anything, but my heart thumped faster. What did Barrett mean by “exact in your account”? Truthful? They were going to use a truth serum? I hoped that counted as being drugged and that Bryn’s onion-and-dishwashing-soap potion would work.

“We have some new technology. It’s actually based on research that Andre Knobel did with the Corps of Wizard Engineers. Though, as usual, his paper was on theoretical magic, and I don’t think he foresaw this particular application,” Barrett said.

From out of her briefcase, Gwen lifted a black leather box. It was about seven inches in diameter and a couple inches deep with a fancy crest embossed on it in gold. She opened the case and turned it around. Inside there was a kind of necklace. The pendant was a flat metal square with a pentacle engraved on it and hooked to its sides were fabric-covered straps. When I leaned closer, I realized that there were tiny needles protruding from one side of the straps.

“Which side faces the skin?” I demanded.

“The pentacle faces out.”

I glared at them. “Then the answer is no.”

Barrett smiled. “The needles are extremely fine. They’re the diameter of acupuncture needles. He’ll barely feel them.”

“Tamara—” Bryn said in a tone that sounded like he was going to try to calm me down and go along with them sticking needles into his neck.

“No,” I said, jerking my head to look at Bryn. “Needles? And something wrapped around your throat? Some new thing they’re experimenting with? No! No way! What if it tightens? What if it chokes you?”

“
Our
magic doesn’t malfunction,” Gwen said.

I snatched the case and flung it. The Winterhawk’s hand shot out and she said, “Suspend.”

I dove across the table after the box, determined to disrupt everything long enough for us to escape.

Gwen flung out her hand. “Repel!” she said, but the magic wasn’t strong enough to knock me back. It only made me slide from the table to the ground next to Mrs. Thornton’s chair. I dipped my hand into the pocket of Mrs. Thornton’s trench coat and jumped up with the gun. I swiveled and pointed it at John Barrett’s head.

The case dropped from the air where Mrs. Thornton’s magic had been holding it up, and the box landed on the floor. Mrs. Thornton’s hand jerked toward me and so did Bryn’s.