Chapter 25
Gwendolynne
For a long time, all I can do is stare at the empty space where Harrisford had once been. Dancing couples continue to sweep and sway around me, but I barely notice. My pulse is roaring in my ears and my body is shivering and pricking tears are needling my inner eyelids.
Fucking bastard. I cannot believe I just did that. I let him kiss me. I kissed him back. And then he…
I resist the urge to scream. My theory was right: He had been playing me. I’d heard of him and his womanizing ways, and I’m so foolish to have thought it might be anything but.
Nothing has changed in my surroundings; the only thing that has changed is me.
But now, everything has lost its luster.
The lights are garish; the colors clash; the music is a cacophony of painfully discordant twangs.
A roving magician conjures a fire, and one of the lantern-toting faeries meets its bitter end.
My shock is giving way to fury, and I bunch my fists in my skirt, lifting the silky folds so I don’t stumble as I run off the dance floor.
I try my best not to cry, but my traitorous eyes do it anyway.
On my head, the feathers of my mask give a few feeble flaps, and in a fit of fury I rip it off and crush it inside my fist.
A sob heaves out from someplace deep within my chest. Tears detach from my lower eyelashes, splattering all over my dress.
“Gwen!” The shout comes from behind me. The hall is loud—what with all the voices, music, and the occasional drunken shout—so I can’t quite hear properly. For a second, I think it’s Harrisford and unthinkingly turn around, before realizing that he never calls me Gwen—only my surname, Chan.
Someone squeezes between two dancing couples, and then the last of my resolve gives way and I break down into ugly tears.
It’s Heloise.
“Oh my god, Gwen, what’s wrong? What’s happened?” She puts both of her arms around me and folds me into a hug.
I can’t even choke the words out, can’t bring myself to admit how ridiculously stupid I’ve been. So I just cry into her shoulder until my sobs gradually peter out and I allow her to lead me away.
When I take notice of my surroundings again, we’re in a gallery filled with taxidermied birds.
Heloise and I are sitting on the floor, leaning against a paneled wood door, next to a display of stuffed white swans.
I sniff and dab at my eyes with my skirt.
Harrisford’s glamour spell is getting weaker, and some of my mascara is flaking off.
“Percy was right,” I wail, fresh tears welling. “Harrisford is shit at glamours.”
From a distance, Percy’s voice echoes. I am always right. You should know that by now.
There’s a pause. Then he adds, his voice gentler this time, Do not fret over that man, Hairless One. He isn’t good enough for you. And trust me when I say I am right about that, too.
My tears are gushing out by now. Percy’s kindness is unexpected, and too much for me to handle; I cry even harder, burying my face in my hands.
Heloise rubs my shoulder. “Gwen, what did that arsehole do to you?”
Now that I’ve put some distance between myself and the dance floor, I almost feel ashamed to admit what had upset me.
There’s no sense in pining over Harrisford-fucking-Briggs.
Or reading too much into the way he held me, the way he kissed me, or even the way he laughed.
Our business here tonight was purely transactional—I’d agreed to help him find the source of the surge, and he’d agreed not to tell Dean Kaur about Percy if I did so.
It was my fault I gave in to the whims of my body and kissed him right there on the dance floor.
Not to mention, I don’t even like him! He’s an annoying, arrogant, blackmailing git, and for the sake of my fucking future, I should stop forgetting that. I need to stop being such a baby, gather my wits, and hold up my end of the bargain…if only so he will hold up his.
I force myself to stop crying and dry off the rest of my tears. “It’s okay, Heli,” I reassure her. “I was up all night on a call, and I barely got any sleep. I think—it’s all just catching up to me.” I wipe at my eyes again. My lips sting with the sharp taste of salt.
Heloise’s mouth turns down. “Honestly, the on-call rota is barbaric. I don’t know of any other industry where we’d be forced to stay up all night, and then turn up to work a full day the next morning.”
“It’s only a few weeks until exams,” I say faintly.
After graduation, most mag.fam students end up working day shifts—unless you specifically opt to work in a twenty-four-hour center.
Myth.creat vets, though, wind up being on call a lot, mainly because their hospitals are more often located rurally.
And of course, I’m still hoping to be top of class, because that comes with the job at the Ministry.
Cushy hours, better pay, and better opportunities for advancement.
And also a chance to save my family.
Heli shakes her head in wonder. “Can you imagine? We’ll be done with on-call. Forever.”
And I’ll be done with Harrisford Briggs, forever.
Thinking about the exams, and Harrisford, causes my head to throb.
I’m reminded, with painful clarity, why I came here in the first place: to look for tethers, and to search for information about the surges.
I still haven’t found any objects that seem to be pulsing with magic—the only traces of magic around were the ones streaming off the people.
But, then again, Harrisford and I never made it to the opposite side of Hintze Hall.
Plus, it might not even be in the hall. This museum is so vast. Where would I even start?
I turn to Heloise, who’s watching me, her brown eyes sympathetic.
“Heli,” I say, “I think I might need to speak to your mother. I need to ask her about the surges.”
“Ah,” she says, nodding. “It’s because one happened here recently, didn’t it?”
I give her a weak, watery smile in return.
She climbs to her feet elegantly, like a gazelle, and then holds out her hand.
“Come on, G. Get up. Let’s go and find my mother.”
Dr. Nora Chapman is laughing with a group of glamorous women when Heloise pulls her away.
“Mum,” she says. “Gwendolynne wants to talk to you.”
Dr. Chapman’s expression brightens. “Ah, Gwen! It’s so lovely to see you. It’s been far too long since you last visited.”
“Can we…go somewhere a little more private, Dr. Chapman?”
Heli’s mum excuses herself, murmuring her apologies to the other women, and follows us into a side corridor.
“What do you want to discuss, sweetheart?” Like Heloise, Dr. Chapman has a smooth, comforting voice, and I immediately want to confess everything.
“I’m looking into the surges. Thank you, by the way, for giving Heloise all that info—”
Heloise’s mother’s eyes narrow, and she slides her gaze to her daughter. “Oh? All that was for Gwendolynne? I had thought that you were interested in the topic, Heloise.”
My friend rolls her eyes. “No, Mum. I’ve told you a thousand times, I’m not interested in humans.”
Dr. Chapman gives her a tight-lipped smile, then returns her attention to me. “Well, Gwen? Have you figured anything out about what’s causing them?”
I press the toe of my stiletto against the tiled floor.
I’m grappling with whether to tell Heli’s mother about the tethers.
In the end, I decide not to say anything.
It’s hard to know who to trust when anyone could be the culprit.
“No, not yet. We’re still just looking at the location and severity of the flares.
I was wondering: Have you noticed any patterns, perhaps?
Like, is it possible that there are a few bigger explosions, and then a series of smaller surges, like aftershocks? ”
Dr. Chapman purses her lips, thinking. “No,” she says slowly, drawing out the vowel in the word. “I don’t think so. From what we can gather, based on the locations and magnitude, the surges are all roughly the same.”
I frown. “So there’s nothing that affects how strong they are?”
Dr. Chapman shakes her head. “When we’ve performed magical assays on people who are affected, they’re all elevated, of course, but to roughly the same order: three or four times the upper limit of the normal reference range.
And there doesn’t seem to be a pattern in location, either.
Other than the fact that most of them have been clustered in London, the rest have been scattered randomly across the country. ”
“Are they happening overseas?”
“Not that we know of,” Dr. Chapman responds. “Or at least, there are no reports so far.”
“Oh.” My hope drains away, as though I’ve pulled the plug in a once-full bathtub. I’d been optimistic that Heli’s mum would be able to help narrow down the possible locations of the tethers. “I guess we’re back at square one, then.”
“Wait.” Dr. Chapman’s gaze is piercing, even though her expression is warm. “There is something…”
My head jerks up. “What?”
Her brow furrows. “The Bristol group who’ve been monitoring the phenomenon have identified strange spikes in atmospheric magic, always close to what they think are the origins of the surges.
They’re a bit mobile, moving around within the area, but the explosions always happen close to where they’re located. ”
I scrunch my face up, thinking. “So, like a magical storm?”
“No.” Dr. Chapman’s tone is cautious, as though she too doesn’t quite know what to make of these revelations.
“When they measure the readings, they don’t follow the patterns typical of atmospheric storms. Nor are they fixed levels, like something you’d expect from an object.
The magical traces are closer to what you’d expect from a mammal. ”
My chest feels tight. “Like…a familiar?”
“No,” Dr. Chapman says. “A human.”
My mind churns. I almost stumble, unsteady on my pencil-thin heels. I grab Heli’s arm to regain my balance, my eyes wide.
Is this what the saboteur is doing? Using people as tethers to hold open the portals? Is that why people have died—they can’t deal with the level of magic required to hold open the tears?
I try to swallow around the blocked feeling in my throat.
I must look slightly unhinged, because Heli’s mother gives me a look of concern. “Gwen, are you quite well? Do you feel ill? I can check you over if you like—”
“No, thank you,” I say quickly. “It’s…thanks very much, Dr. Chapman. I really appreciate your help.”
I drag Heloise away from her mother, who goes to rejoin her group. Heli is confused. I’ll need to explain everything to her. But first I need to tell someone. Not Harrisford, of course—since he seems to have completely disappeared (and is also a raging arsehole).
So I text Conall instead, on my strap. Conall, I tap out, while Heloise frowns beside me. I think I know what the tethers are…And it’s even worse than we imagined.