Chapter 23
“Alright,” said Maeve as they ventured deeper into the woods, away from Ragsling Village. “You’re certain you can-”
“How many times must I reassure you I can Obsure both of us safely there?”
She grinned. “At least once more,” said Maeve.
Mal didn’t smile. “Take my hand.”
“I can just go separately-”
“Take my hand.”
“Show me,” said Maeve. She pointed. “There.”
Mal nearly rolled his eyes. “I passed the test last term, Sinclair.”
“Well, I’ve never seen you do it. I don’t enjoy the idea of getting sliced in half when you only teleport half of me to-”
Mal vanished with a SWISH. And reappeared behind her. She jumped and spun around. He looked smugly satisfied.
“Ok now-” she started.
Mal lunged for her and grabbed her wrist. She gasped as her body compressed and swirled next to his. She spun loose from his arms ten feet from where they had just been standing.
She had only Obscured with her father. But Mal successfully moved them both safely.
She looked up at him.
“Satisfied?” He said.
Maeve breathed deeply as Mal smirked down at her.
He extended his hand to her once more. She swallowed and took it. He jerked her towards him.
She collided with his chest with a quick gasp.
“What’s that tea shop in London you adore?” He asked. His free hand brushed her hair behind her ear and she was certain he could feel her heart slamming against his chest.
“Esmarelles? The one with the pink door?”
“That’s the one.”
“You’re certain you know where to go?”
Obscuring required certainty in your destination. They couldn’t just jump through space to some place they’d never been.
Mal nodded.
They twisted again, compressing together. The sensation lasted longer this time. Maeve gripped his arms tightly and tucked her head into his chest.
Solid ground appeared under her feet and Mal’s hands braced her sides as she tilted backwards. He released her gently as she leaned against the stone-walled alley way he dropped them in.
“This isn’t the tea shop,” she said.
“I have a quick stop I need to make,” he replied, taking a step towards her.
The alley was dark and abandoned. A main street was close by. She could hear the distant buzzing of people. Maeve lifted her head up to meet his gaze, tucking her hands behind her back.
His eyes traveled quickly to her lips.
“We’re late,” said Maeve quietly, a small smile at her lips. “Father expected us,” she flipped her wrist over and looked at the dainty ivory and gold watch, “thirty-three minutes ago.”
Mal was an inch from her. “They can’t know about me.”
Maeve nodded and smiled softly. “I know that.”
“Not even your father. Not yet. There is still too much at play.”
Maeve pushed off the wall and closed the gap between them. She couldn’t resist. She tentatively placed her hands on his chest. “When the time is right. Until then, you have my word.”
Mal held her there for a moment. His eyes locked on her lips.
“Can your father infiltrate minds as easily as you can?”
“No,” answered Maeve.
“Good,” said Mal. “Otherwise you’d be erasing my mind from the events this morning.”
“You don’t want him to know you framed a man for murder?”
Mal took her face between his hands. “I don’t want him to see the thoughts I have about his daughter.”
Maeve wobbled slightly, and her lips parted with a sharp exhale. Mal’s hand moved to her chin, gripping it between his thumb and forefinger. He pulled her to the tips of her toes, their noses nearly touching as he bent over her.
“I keep things discreet-”
“You don’t have to tell me, Mal.” She interrupted in a whisper. “It’s all our little secret.” She grinned.
Mal’s lips were nearly on hers. But it wasn’t a kiss that pressed into her lips. His teeth sunk into her bottom lip. Maeve’s eyes grew wide as she pushed against his chest, ripping her lip free from him. She swallowed as a small laugh escaped her.
Mal smirked.
“Thoughts like that?” Maeve asked.
She suddenly understood Lavinia’s interest in those novels.
Maeve shook her head. But she couldn’t hide from him. The satisfied look on his face told her he knew she enjoyed it.
He gestured his head towards the street. She followed him out of the darkened alleyway.
They were in north London. He turned promptly to the right. The strip of buildings across the road were completely demolished. Some of the buildings facade stood, while its insides had been seemingly carved out. Piles of their remains flooded out onto the sidewalk.
Between two strips of destroyed buildings stood a three story building.
Perfectly intact. As though the bombs somehow missed it all together.
Maeve looked over her shoulder. No buildings across the street had survived either.
The road they crossed was torn to shreds, nothing but broken bricks and piles of dirt.
The building that stood tall and clean had a black iron fence that ran the length of the sidewalk. A matching gate at its center said Finchley Orphanage in fat iron letters.
Maeve stopped. Mal continued towards the gates. A couple carrying bags of produce passed between them, bidding Maeve a good day, but she didn’t hear them.
“You did this,” she stated.
Mal stopped and turned towards her. His fingers wrapped around the bars of the gate. A pulse of magic whipped towards her, shooting into the sky against an invisible wall.
“Mal!”
They looked past the gates, towards the front doors of the orphanage. A boy no more than seven years old was running down the smooth sidewalk towards them.
Tulips lined the pathway, vibrant color in striking opposition to the desecrated and colorless lots on either side of the iron fencing.
Mal smiled.
Maeve’s heart soared.
He pushed open the gate with one hand and stepped inside. Maeve moved closer as the boy reached Mal. He kneeled before him. The boy threw his arms around Mal’s neck. Mal wrapped one hand around his back.
“Jude,” he said.
Jude looked over Mal’s shoulder at her. “Who is that?” He asked.
Mal pulled away from him and stood. “This is my friend Maeve from school.”
Maeve smiled softly at him.
“Are you an orphan too?” Asked Jude.
Maeve’s stomach twisted. “No,” was the only word she could muster.
The boy didn’t look phased. He looked up at Mal.
“Mal, two men came here after the bombs a few months ago! They were asking Sister Lilly about you, but it was so funny- they couldn’t get the gate to open.
” The boy laughed, his cheeks red. “We were all watching. Sister Lily was able to use the gate just fine and step in and out into the street. But they couldn’t. They weren’t very happy about it, Mal.”
Mal tucked his hands into his pockets and looked at Maeve. “I imagine not.”
Maeve reached out and pressed her hands against the shield of Magic protecting the orphanage. Mal’s Magic. It was like solid steel. Completely impenetrable. She wasn’t stepping inside. No one was. Not even a bomb.
“Sister Lily says it’s a miracle from God that the orphanage was spared when everything around us wasn’t.”
Mal looked back down at Jude. “You’ve gotten taller.”
“Sister Caroline says I’ll be as tall as you at this rate.” Jude grabbed Mal’s hand and pulled him towards the orphanage. “We already had lunch, but I can find you something in the kitchen. Your friend too.” He looked back at Maeve, a perfectly innocent face. “Sorry, I forgot your name.”
Mal tugged gently back on his hand.
“Jude,” he said, his voice smooth. “I’m not staying.”
Jude turned. His joyful spark gone. “But I thought you were going to stay and work here, like last summer.”
“I was,” said Mal. “But things have changed.”
Jude’s mouth twitched, turning into a slight tremble. “But you said.”
Mal reached towards him and brushed the top of his head. “I know. I’m sorry. I just wanted to make sure everyone was ok.”
Jude nodded. He blinked rapidly, trying to keep his tears away. “Okay.”
“Bye Jude.”
“Bye,” the boy said, his voice shaking.
Mal released him and turned sharply on his heel, walking back towards Maeve.
“It was lovely to meet you, Jude,” said Maeve with a soft smile.
He never tore his eyes away from Mal, disappointment ringing from his face. Mal didn’t look back at Jude as he passed Maeve. She took a few steps back and then turned and followed Mal back to that darkened alley way one block down.
The owner and curator of the fine teas at Esmarelles was delighted to see Maeve. After a courteous conversation, and Maeve purchased a box of new tea leaves, Maeve and Mal stepped towards the white brick fireplace. It was decorated with rosy shades of flowers and vases.
“Have you moved through the fire before?” Asked Maeve.
“No,” said Mal.
“All Magical fires are connected, but each fireplace is like a locked doorway. Only those with a key are able to pass through. And our individual Magic is our key.”
“And I have a key to Sinclair Estates?”
“To the foyer fireplace, yes,” said Maeve, placing the tin can of tea in her bag and pulling out two silver coins. She dropped them in the hanging teapot next to the fireplaces, which was the fee for using the fire. “See you on the other side.”
She smiled widely and stepped onto the marble base of the fireplace. The warmth from the fire vanished, and the flames turned cool.
Maeve stepped in, closed her eyes, and recited her destination over in her head.
The cool flames rose high, swirling up past her head, and she was whisked away from the tea shop, and after only a moment of an unpleasant feeling of being squeezed, she was placed gently back on the ground. It was her preferred form of travel.
Though obscuring with Mal did put her in a desirable position.
She stepped out onto the glistening white marble floors in the grand entryway of her home. There was a large sweeping staircase and double high ceilings. Sinclair Estates had been built in the late 1800s and was decorated lavishly with the time.
“There she is.”