Chapter Twenty-Four #2
“It’s labradorite,” Mr. Wexley said. “Not particularly valuable, but a close enough approximation to the real thing. It should buy you some time.” He took it back from me and replaced it in the satchel.
“There are other items in here that may come in handy, but they should be self-explanatory. When you get to the Isles, my trade associate will assist you.”
“I think you’ve made a huge mistake,” I said. “You have enough money to pay the most notorious thief in Achnarach, and you’ve blackmailed me into doing it for free. Why?”
“Because most notorious thieves are well-known to the authorities, who are not nearly as negligent where you’re going. No one will suspect you.”
“Exactly. Because I have no idea what I’m doing.”
He studied me for a moment. “You have your father’s eyes.”
That stopped me. He’d said he knew my father well, but there was no way my father would have been friends with someone like this. “How did you know him?”
“We’re from the same town. There were three of us boys who were as close as brothers.
Your father, our friend Alfred, and myself.
All of us were fascinated by magic, so much so that we all became involved in the magic business.
When your father and Alfred moved here to Ardmuir, I followed.
Edward opened his shoppe, Alfred became an appraiser, and I began my collection. ”
It had been nearly two years since someone had mentioned my father in a way that wasn’t derogatory, and while I still didn’t believe they could have been friends, a part of me was happy just to hear about him.
Alfred must be Alfie, and his mother was probably the last person to tell me a story about my father’s childhood when she visited the shoppe all those years ago.
Alfred, Wexley, and Da. Two of them were dead, and the third was now blackmailing me. Something didn’t add up. “Odd. He never mentioned you.”
“Why would he? You were a little girl at the time.”
“But I ran the shoppe with him. We discussed business every day.”
A look of pity washed over him, and I found I hated it even more than his smiles.
“The truth is, we became competitors. He never wanted you to see the ugly side of collecting, Miss Stokes. He wanted to keep it fun and magical for you. But it’s a dark world, full of scandals and lies.
Collecting can be cutthroat, quite literally.
He wanted to protect you from all that. He changed after you were born, once he had something more valuable to lose, I suppose.
If you hadn’t come along, he could have been one of the greats.
Part of the reason I never had children,” he said.
“They require a certain level of morality that isn’t compatible with what I do.
” He took a long sip of whisky. “Still, once he died, I kept my eye on you. As I said, I worried you’d end up on the streets, as most orphans do.
But you’re tenacious, Miss Stokes. I saw that in you immediately. ”
I shuddered to think that he’d been watching me this entire time. “I didn’t exactly have a choice, did I?”
“Of course you did. You could have gone to work as a maid or a secretary. You could have sold things other than magical curios. A little meat on your bones, a fine gown? I’m sure you could have found some other way to make money.”
I stared in horror, but he continued as if this conversation were in any way appropriate. He was the most despicable person I’d ever met.
“But you didn’t. You kept your father’s shoppe alive, and then, when you met that young witch and realized what she was capable of, you turned your fortunes around.
That’s what I see in you, Miss Stokes. Not someone lucky, but an opportunist. Resourceful, cunning.
You’ve even got the Barrow boy wrapped around your pretty little finger.
You’ll stop at nothing to get what you want.
” He smiled again. “Your father would be very proud of what you’ve become. ”
I shrank with every word he uttered, because I knew then that he wasn’t the most despicable person I’d ever met. I was. Father would hate to see what I’d become.
“Is there anything else?” I asked, doing my best to keep my lips from trembling.
“No, that’s all. Keep your wits about you, and don’t do anything foolish like develop scruples.
If you succeed in this, you’ll have everything you’ve ever wanted.
Someday, I may even leave the egg to you, once I’ve decided I’ve had enough.
Of course, you’ll be an old woman by then.
” He chuckled to himself. “Hard to imagine now, I know.”
I grabbed the satchel and moved to the door, refusing to let my tears escape until I was away from this awful man. I had reached the threshold when I heard his voice from the end of the hallway.
“Remember, Miss Stokes. Your friends are counting on you!”
Tuesday night, Finlay and Bri insisted on throwing me a little send-off party, despite my grumpiness over the past week.
The mood was supposed to be celebratory, but none of us could quite pull it off.
Argyle seemed to sense that something was afoot.
He’d been hiding in a basket of dirty laundry for most of the day, and not even the promise of whipped cream could coax him out.
The satchel from Wexley was in the old leather trunk Da used for travel, though it was meant to carry enough clothing for one or two days, not a week.
Because that was how long I had to pull off this theft: one week.
I’d packed two dresses and several sets of underthings.
The journey by sea was twenty-four hours each way, give or take.
The weather wasn’t terrible, but the Obsidian Sea was known to be mercurial, and it was already November.
“Another slice of pie?” Finlay asked me.
I hadn’t even finished my first, which was completely unlike me. “No, thank you. My stomach isn’t thrilled at the prospect of sailing tomorrow, it seems.”
“You’re allowed to be nervous,” Bri said. “It’s completely understandable.”
“I’m not nervous,” I lied, then shrugged. “All right, maybe a little.”
“What if you can’t find the tree?” Finlay asked as I took my plate to the sink. He’d asked me this question half a dozen times already, but he seemed even more worried than I was.
“I’ll find the tree,” I told him, washing the dishes as though I could channel all my anxious energy into them.
“And if she doesn’t,” Bri said, “we’ll find another solution. We could still find the grimoire.”
Her optimism was no more convincing than my supposed lack of nerves.
We were all bundles of raw energy, doing our best to reassure ourselves that everything would be fine.
This was what happened when three almost-children attempted to pull off something that would challenge even the most hardened adult.
Curse my father for dying, Bri’s parents for being the worst, and Finlay’s father for abandoning him (I spared his mother, as she couldn’t help being sick).
“I should get home,” Finlay said.
“No tea?” I asked feebly as I followed him to the doorway.
“Ma isn’t feeling well,” he said. “But I’ll see you off at the docks tomorrow morning.”
“That’s really not—”
Before I could finish, he leaned across the threshold and kissed my cheek again, the way he had in the shoppe. As he straightened, I glanced over my shoulder to be sure we were alone.
Hang it, I thought. This might be one of the last times I saw Finlay Barrow alive—or at least the last time he wanted anything to do with me—and I would not die without having done what I’d wanted to do all week.
I grabbed his lapels and pulled him toward me, taking in his startled countenance with a good degree of self-satisfaction before I closed my eyes and kissed him.
It wasn’t a skillful kiss, nor was it long. I realized the moment his lips touched mine that I didn’t have any earthly idea what I was doing, and all my gumption fled as gracelessly as a herd of heilan coos.
I opened my eyes to find Finlay gazing at me with a lopsided grin. “What exactly do you call that, Willow Stokes?” he asked me.
My mouth fell open in outrage. “Don’t be daft. You know full well it was a kiss.”
He smirked, reached out his hand, and eased my lower jaw up.
“It’s good to know,” he said, leaning in while still holding my chin lightly, “that there are some things I can do better than you.” His breath tickled my ear as he brushed his lips against the sensitive skin of my jawline.
“And when you get back from your little escapade, I’ll teach you a thing or two. ”
He pulled away slowly, leaving me chilled and speechless. Before I could formulate a coherent thought, he stepped into the night, whistling to himself as he went.
I stood staring at the open doorway, questioning everything I’d ever thought about Finlay, when I heard someone clear their throat behind me.
Bri was holding Argyle in her arms, her eyes filled with glee. “Tell me again how you and Fin are like siblings?” She laughed out loud as I stormed past her. “I told you so!”