The Conquering Dark: Crown (5 page)

“We're not discussing me.” Simon turned back to the window. “You may stay, Nick.”

“Simon,” Malcolm began to argue.

“No,” Simon said with an exhausted voice and held up his hand. “He is in danger, partly because he sought to protect me in the past.”

“You don't believe any of that, do you?” Malcolm asked incredulously.

“I have to.” Simon leaned against the window, silhouetted in the moonlight. “Otherwise, everything could be a lie. And I won't have that.”

The next morning, Simon woke early and went out to his favorite coffee cart. He returned with a pot of coffee and a serviceable breakfast. Kate brightened as he entered the kitchen. Morning was her element. The dawn's light illuminated the cherry tones in her hair until it sparked like fire. Her smile quickly faded as she eyed the lumps of greasy paper Simon pulled from the basket.

She abandoned her search of the cabinets and the pantry for any food to prepare. “I was hoping you'd just buy a few eggs and some bread. I could have managed with those.”

“No need. These are a popular favorite here.”

“Did you muck those off the bank of the Thames?” she asked, her nose wrinkling. “Now I know why Penny preferred to go to her own home last night. The fear of a Gaunt Lane breakfast.”

“Nonsense. She just wanted to continue her work on the key.” Simon pulled a gold chain from his waistcoat pocket and twirled it. It felt particularly empty because normally there would have been a special gold key attached to the end. It was his prized possession, even though he didn't truly own it. “Ever since the key started working again, she works on it all the time. And why wouldn't she? It is one of the greatest magical items ever created. Such a simple object having the power of instantaneous transportation around the globe is still so incredible. Just as incredible, Penny seems close to understanding the engineering concepts your father used to design it. She is confident that she'll be able to replicate the construction and build working copies.” He spun the empty chain a few more times, then watched it fall limp in his hand. “Penny is ever the optimist. She keeps forging facsimiles even though she knows I can't inscribe and empower them, as my father did to the original.” Simon tucked the chain into his waistcoat with a sigh. “Well, fortunately we still have that one marvelous key, and by some miracle, it still works. It has served us in the past, and no doubt will in the future.”

“If the key has reconnected to the aether, there's no reason you won't as well,” Kate said with practiced sympathy. “You were both drained by Ra at the same time. Clearly, there's a limit to the persistence of the magic-eater's power.”

“Clearly. Although we did destroy the mummy months ago. The key has come back admirably. Me?” Simon pantomimed removing a hat from his head and holding it out in front of him. He reached into the invisible hat, then drew out his hand with the flourish of a stage magician. He slowly uncurled his fingers to reveal that his hand was empty. “I can't even pull a hedgehog out of my hat.”

“One day you will.”

Simon was grateful for Kate's endless confidence whether she actually felt it or was just saying it to prevent his having a bout of self-pity. So he quickly unwrapped what appeared to be a pile of scorched crust. “These are delicious. It's a meat pie.”

“I know what it is, but I don't want to know what sort of meat.” Kate poised a fork over the pie before setting the utensil on the table with a sigh. “Simon, really, we're not without resources. Can't you arrange a servant to keep the house ready for occasional use?”

“No. Not with my interests. It's too dangerous.” He was again almost unconsciously sketching keys and runes onto the paper bag.

“I have the same interests as you plus a preference for edible meals. I have servants at Hartley Hall, and my home is certainly as dangerous as yours.”

“Agreed.” Simon lifted the fork and slipped it back into her hand. “Here, you dropped this. I assume your father gave your servants to understand they were in for peculiar times. And you pay them many times the going rate.”

Kate prodded the pie listlessly while Simon seized one by hand and began to devour it. Malcolm entered the kitchen and, without a word, took up one of the doughy things and started eating.

“No Barker,” Malcolm said to Simon through a mouthful of meat pie. “So you came to your senses?”

Simon poured coffee for Malcolm. “No, he's still asleep. He's staying as long as he likes. We're taking him on faith.”

Malcolm nodded with thanks and drank. “I know my judgment has no leverage after how I argued against Charlotte, but I'll say it anyway. Nick Barker is a bad man. To my mind, there's nothing admirable about him. There, I've said it. I'm done with the topic.”

“Noted.” Simon pointed his fork questioningly at Kate's pie. She pushed it to him. He took a huge bite. “I understand your opinion, Malcolm. But I must do what I must.”

The Scotsman tightened his lips and held up his hands to show he was indeed finished. Then he glanced curiously at Kate. “Not hungry?”

Simon took his pipe from the counter and loaded it with tobacco. He rubbed his thumb over the rune incised on the bowl of the pipe. Out of habit, he waited for it to flare into life. He stared into the cold tobacco and the depressing realization dawned on him yet again that he was an exile from the aether. Simon grumbled and stood up. He went to the stove and lit his pipe with a taper, puffing heavily with effort.

“Fire,” Malcolm commented. “Great invention.”

When Simon returned to the table, he looked at the paper bag covered in his drawings. He snatched it up with annoyance, crumpled it into a ball, and shoved it into the burning stove.

Kate leaned her chin into her hand, watching Simon. “Aren't you the man who once told me, in this very kitchen, I believe, that using magic for everyday facilities, such as lighting a teapot or a pipe, was a criminal waste of skill?”

“That's when I had a choice.” Simon then chuckled with a shake of his head. “Thank you both for your outpouring of sympathy.”

“If anyone deserves sympathy, it's me.” Kate tapped the greasy paper that once held the food. “Next time I breakfast here, if there is a next time, this horror show can't happen.”

Simon took the pipe from his mouth, admiring the even glow of the tobacco. “I'll have chickens and a pig brought in for your dining pleasure.”

Kate started to retort, but a knock came from the front door. Simon stiffened with alarm. Malcolm looked confused at his overreaction.

Simon said, “This house is warded to the shadows, and it is still in effect. Only one person has ever seen through those wards.” Simon went down the corridor and swung open the door. “Hogarth, come in.”

The Anstruther's manservant bowed. “Mr. Archer, good morning, sir.”

A small shape pushed past Hogarth. Charlotte was fashionably attired in a rather formal dress and bonnet. She grinned as she stared around the foyer.

“This is where you live in London, Mr. Simon? I couldn't even see it, but Mr. Hogarth swore it was here. And it is.” She wrinkled her nose. “Do you have cats?”

“It's lovely to see you, Charlotte, even this early. And Imogen, welcome.” Simon shut the door after Kate's sister glided into the hall dressed in her traditional full mourning. “To what do we owe this surprise?”

“Miss Kate!” Charlotte scampered to Kate, who was coming from the kitchen. She wrapped her arms around the smiling woman's waist. “Guess what?”

“You are now suddenly craving bananas?” Kate winked at her.

The young girl's delighted laughter filled the room. “No, silly!”

“Then wha—?”

“We're going to see the king!” Charlotte blurted over her. “He asked for me too!”

“The king?” Kate looked down at the overexcited girl. “What are you talking about, dear?”

Hogarth held up a thick gilt envelope. “This letter came from the Court of St. James to Hartley Hall last night. You are requested to attend His Majesty, King William IV, with all due haste.”

The sitting room in Clarence House was crowded. Simon paced to work off unaccustomed nerves, struggling to appear merely energetic. Kate was truly at ease; she wasn't used to meeting kings, per se, but she had grown up in rarified air, mixing frequently with the nation's greatest. Malcolm stared out the window toward wide Pall Mall beyond the trees with its parade of carriages. Imogen stood like a statue behind Kate's chair, and Charlotte was in the process of touching every lamp, vase, and painting in the room.

“Charlotte,” Kate said for the tenth time, “please sit down.”

“Who is this, Mr. Malcolm?” The girl looked at Malcolm as she pointed at a portrait of a woman.

Malcolm didn't look at the picture, grumbling, “I don't know.”

Simon said, “That's Princess Augusta Sophia. The king's younger sister.”

“Oh.” Charlotte stared at the auburn-haired woman in oil. She took a step and pointed at another. “Who's this, Mr. Malcolm?”

“I don't know,” Malcolm muttered a bit louder.

“Mr. Malcolm doesn't know, dear.” Kate froze Simon, who was opening his mouth preparing to answer. “And neither does Mr. Simon. Now, I must insist you sit next to me and stop pawing the king's things.”

Imogen made a grunting sound like a laugh. Charlotte giggled too.

“What's so funny?” Kate asked.

Charlotte came toward Malcolm, playing hopscotch on the checkerboard-tile floor. “You said
pawing.
And I'm a werewolf.”

Imogen snorted again.

Kate shared a bemused look with Simon, but then he turned quickly at the sound of a door opening. King William entered the room, dressed in a common suit, his white hair mussed. The elderly king took in the crowd and smiled.

“Ah, here you are.” He closed the door behind him. There were no secretaries, no clerks, no valets, only the king himself.

Simon inclined his head respectfully as Kate rose and curtsied. Charlotte yelped, trying to copy the curtsy. Imogen remained motionless, and Malcolm posed with an inhospitable glower.

King William went to Kate and grasped her hand. “So good to see you, Miss Anstruther. Thank you for coming so promptly.”

“Of course, Your Majesty. You may recall Mr. Simon Archer.”

“I do, indeed! Welcome to Clarence House, Mr. Archer. I'm glad to speak to you under less tumultuous circumstances.” The king then caught sight of the focused Charlotte and smiled genuinely at her. “You may belay curtsying, my dear. One will suffice for the entire day.”

“Oh.” Charlotte covered her face with embarrassment.

William chuckled pleasantly at her before greeting Malcolm.

“This,” Kate said, “is Malcolm MacFarlane.”

“Mr. MacFarlane,” the king said to Malcolm's begrudging nod, “I saw your pistols in the antechamber. Remarkable. I'd say a brace of those equal the firepower of a sloop of war.”

“They serve.”

“Quite, quite.” William narrowed his gaze at the Scotsman and turned with a bow to Imogen without the slightest hint that he found her mourning dress unusual. Her veil barely quivered in reaction. He motioned for everyone to resume their seats as he found a plain wooden chair. “First, I want to express my thanks again for your efforts at that horrible coronation. You have my gratitude, and that of Her Majesty the Queen as well.”

“We did little enough,” Kate said.

“Please, let's speak plainly, Miss Anstruther. There is no one here but I. And I know what you are.”

“Sir?”

“Magicians, Miss Anstruther. Conjurers. Alchemists. Sorcerers and the like. That's why I sent for you. Those creatures who attacked the coronation were obviously not normal human beings, and they represent an extreme threat to this nation.”

“We are endeavoring to meet that threat, sir,” Kate said.

“I'm sure you are, I'm sure you are. But I require more than that. I am the king, and I must have access to all the resources that can protect my subjects and preserve order in the land and across our empire.”

“Perhaps you should speak a bit more plainly, sir,” Kate said with admirable clarity.

“Quite.” The king was unaffected by the straight talk. He seemed quite content and sure of himself. “I want you and your colleagues here to serve the crown. First, hunt down those devils that threatened so many lives so recklessly at Westminster, and beyond that, to work to protect this realm from a growing occult threat. Is that plain enough?” The king's eyes twinkled like a playful uncle, but there was a hard political mind behind them.

“It is, sir.” Kate raised her hand to Simon. “I must direct you to Mr. Archer as this band is his creation, in many ways.”

William looked shocked. “Indeed? I've been told of you, Mr. Archer. Nothing in your background indicated great generalship in your nature. No offense.”

“None taken, sir,” Simon said. “I am generally known as something of a fatuous playboy.”

“Something of?” The king slapped his knee. “The very definition of, I'd say. I had occasion to hear about you once from Lady Dunston at a garden party that went rather astray.”

“Ah yes.” Simon struggled to stay serious as Kate playfully scowled from behind the king. “Lady Dunston is a fine woman of uncommon … a fine woman.”

“Yes.” King William chuckled, one man to another. “Quite fine. So what do you all say to my proposal?”

“We are eager,” Simon said, “to protect the innocent, anywhere. If you are offering the resources of the Crown to that end, I'd say we are in business, Your Majesty.”

“Excellent! Well said, sir! Your sovereign and your nation thank you.” The king stood. “Now that we are agreed, I'd like to bring in another conspirator.” He went to the door and motioned into the anteroom.

Grace North strode in and gave a perfunctory curtsy to the king.

Simon exchanged a concerned glance with Kate, who was already on her feet.

“This,” King William said calmly, “is Grace North, as I'm sure you know. She has served as coordinator of the government's magical efforts since early in my reign. Are you acquainted?”

Grace looked typically angelic in yellow satin. “I am, Your Majesty, at least with Mr. Archer and Miss Anstruther.” She was calm and professional, the model of a political actor.