Chapter 19 #3
“No one should have that much power over another person,” he said quietly. “If we do …” He swallowed. “If we do, we’ll discover sooner or later that we’re not nearly as good as we think we are.”
As Hickok scribbled this down, Beatrix put her arms around him. “My God, I love you,” she murmured.
He leaned in to whisper, “I’m sorry it’s turned into such a disaster.”
She kissed him.
“Well, my editor will be delighted this hasn’t come between you,” Hickok said. “Bless his soppy heart.”
When the door closed behind Hickok, they retraced their steps and confirmed that the room was still unbugged. As she finished casting, she turned to find Peter leaning against the table, arms crossed, staring at the floor.
“I wrote the contract in the bedroom, which we later determined had no snooping devices, and I only took it out that once to show you,” he said.
“I felt around in my car that morning to make sure there were no hidden tele-vision cameras. Even if there were audio recorders tucked somewhere, we didn’t say anything that would alert the magiocracy about the contract or where to find it. So how did they?”
She shook her head, at a loss. After a moment, she suggested, “Maybe they’ve developed a monitoring spell that works like a tele-vision camera. There would be nothing to feel in that case.”
He frowned. “Not impossible, of course, but they would have had to develop it in the last couple of months. Otherwise they wouldn’t have installed cameras in your house.”
True. It seemed unlikely. She boosted herself onto the brewing table to sit, leaning against him. “You have a theory, don’t you. What is it?”
“I think someone is tailing us.”
Her breath caught. “Inside the house?”
“I don’t know,” he murmured. “Maybe. Not here, though, or we would have discovered them. I think a wizard under an invisibility spell is following us around at least occasionally because the only time I didn’t have that contract on me or well-hidden in here was when I left it in the car to walk you to work.
It was tucked in that book under a seat, so I thought it was perfectly safe.
That would also explain how a wizard happened to be outside our house at the exact moment I needed saving from the attacker. ”
She stared at him, heart in her throat. “We have to get rid of the contracts. The remaining Vow contracts.”
“What?”
“They’re not safe. They’ve always made me nervous, and now …”
He shook his head. “You don’t need Rosemarie under a Vow, but your former treasurer—and Miss Draden—”
“She didn’t sign it with her real name,” Beatrix said. “You saw what happened when I tried to call on her Vow—it’s worthless. There’s no danger in burning it. There’s every danger in keeping it.”
“Your treasurer, then. Surely you need her under a Vow.”
“What do you think is more likely at this point? That the magiocracy sends a wizard to ask more questions of the woman they discarded as no longer useful to them—a woman they know will be angry at them because she had to drop out of college when they stopped paying her—or that they’ll find the document she signed?
” She eyed him. “You know, the one that makes clear that League members are casting spells?”
Peter groaned. “You’re right. Absolutely right. Let’s do it now.”
They extracted the contracts from under the loose floorboard in what used to be Peter’s bedroom, light off in case any tele-vision cameras were pointed at them. Back in the new brewing room, they set all three on the floor.
Beatrix stared for a moment at Ella’s signature. Then she aimed her palm at the contracts, a leaf between her thumb and forefinger. “Formeltan.” The papers scorched, shriveled, vanished.
She hoped she’d done the right thing.
“Peter,” she said, “that invisible person who kept the drunk wizard from attacking you …” She paused, knowing he wouldn’t like her theory. “That might have been Ella.”
His eyes went wide. “You’ve seen her?”
“No, but it makes sense. Listen,” she said, seeing his deeply skeptical expression, “if she switched back to regular spellcasting with leaves, she could well be in her right mind again. And if she is, she would want to make it up to you. She’d need to.
So Ella bodyguarding you when she knows from the newspapers that people have sent you death threats makes perfect sense to me, whereas a magiocracy wizard cooling his heels outside our house after we lost the amendment fight—when there’s no need for further dirt on us—seems incredibly unlikely. ”
“I don’t think he was there for dirt. I think he was doing exactly what you suggested Miss Draden would want to do.”
She snorted. “A spy happening to be on the spot might save your life to avoid the mess of having you killed with magic. I get that. But why would the magiocracy actively guard—”
“Because they want to keep me alive.” He took her hand, his expression so serious she knew better than to laugh at what seemed like a ridiculous statement. “Beatrix—the Pentagram called this morning to offer me my job back.”
As she stared at him, mouth agape, he added, “If I take it, they’ll pay our hospital bills in full.”
The shock of it was so great that all she could think to say was, “When—when did they …?”
“While you were asleep. The new head of R&D called. Lt. Gen. Whitaker. I have to give him my answer tomorrow morning.” He paused. “I think I should accept.”
“No,” she said softly, horror shimmering like spiders down her arms, spine, legs. “Peter—no.”
“They made clear that I could dictate some of my working conditions. I’ll insist that someone else do the spellcasting. I’ll say it makes me tired.”
She wrapped her arms around herself. “You know that’s not my objection!”
He nodded, his gaze fixed on the floor.
“You left for a reason, and that reason hasn’t changed,” she said.
“But other circumstances have.”
“Peter, they waited until now to make the offer because they understood you’d be desperate! I’m sure they knew we got the bills yesterday—it can’t be a coincidence that they called this morning—but we’ll figure out another way.”
“I’m very worried, but I am not yet desperate,” he said. “I’ll tell you when true desperation hits, and that’s when we’ve lost your house, we’re kicked out of this place and neither of us can get a job because we’re too quote-unquote radical or simply too much of a distraction for any employer.”
He let that sink in. “There’s a very real risk that if I turn them down tomorrow, they’ll wait until we actually are desperate to take me back,” he added.
“It would serve their purposes. It would thoroughly kill any chance your sister has to get her efforts back on track. Or—consider this—they’ll find someone else and no second offer will come. ”
She swallowed a sob and lifted her chin. “We need an attorney. Somebody sharp to negotiate with the hospital. We don’t know our options—we don’t even know if these bills are reasonable.”
He pressed his lips together and turned away, clearly thinking it through.
“OK,” he said after a minute. “If we can get a lawyer on the phone today who feels strongly that we can save your house and substantially lower the amount owed, then I’m willing to roll the dice and tell the Pentagram no. But it has to be today.”
She looked at her watch. Twenty minutes to eleven. “All right,” she said, knowing the odds were against them. “Drive to the college—they have specialty directories in their library, and there might be one for lawyers. In the meantime I’ll call everyone in the phone book.”
Three minutes later, she rushed into the general store with the book under one arm and the bills tucked in her coat pocket.
“Mayor,” she said to Croft, who’d looked up at the tinkling bell, “could I possibly use your office telephone? Our phone—”
“Sure, of course,” he said, not waiting for her explanation about how her phone was having “issues,” which was just as well because the issue was a government tap.
“Thank you,” she said, grateful to him—for his easy kind-heartedness and for smiling at her as if yesterday’s revelations didn’t matter to him. Though it was certainly possible he hadn’t heard yet. “I’m afraid it might be a while …”
“Not a problem. Take as long as you need. Beatrix,” he added as she turned toward the office.
“I just want you to know that I’ve registered a complaint with Senator Gray.
He abstained on his own darn bill! For gosh sakes, what does a private agreement between a man and his wife have to do with typic rights?
And if the omnimancer didn’t intend to get your input on important matters, he’d be a danged idiot. Do you know what I mean?”
She nodded, surprised and touched. Gray had called her a radical, but no one would make that case about Croft.
“Well, that’s all I wanted to say.” He gave a sheepish smile. “Please excuse my language.”
She almost managed a laugh at the idea that “gosh” and “danged” was language requiring an apology. “Thank you, Mayor. It means a lot to—”
A crash that sounded like at least a dozen cans tumbling to the floor rang out from the back. Croft squeezed his eyes shut. “Billy,” he muttered under his breath, making his nephew’s name sound more like an expletive than any of his actual stabs at curse words.
“Can I help?” she asked.
He shook his head. “Happens at least once a day. Go on, make your calls.”
“Thank you again,” she said, patting his arm, and went off to the office.
She phoned every attorney in the book, each time getting the same response. No, he was not available. No, he would not be able to return a call that day. No, not even for an emergency. Would she still like to leave a message?