Chapter Twenty
The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree…
Unless it’s picked up by a thaumaturgic breeze,
carried half a mile, and then transformed into a banana.
Blazing Trails , W.H. Jackson
They arrived in Hereford too late.
Even the tourists evidenced horror as they looked upon the chaos that had ripped through the city. Roads were torn up, trees tossed about, roofs stripped from buildings. Cold blue flames sprang up from the river, sending coils of magic into the shock-white sky like malevolent clouds that rained deadly glittering hail. A tumult of sirens and shouted voices told a story far more grim and somber than that of D?lylleuad.
“This is most unpleasant,” a Miss Trevallion declared, delicately waving a gloved hand before her face in an effort to ward off a few dainty tears.
“The cost of these damages is going to be major,” Algernon said.
“?‘Oh, this rueful sky, this pageantry of fear!’?” Mumbers quoted, sweeping his hat in an effusive gesture that might have been more compelling had not some drifting magic struck said hat from his hand, transforming it into a small black rabbit. The Misses Trevallion squealed with delight.
“Use the station’s telegram to contact the Home Office,” Gabriel ordered Algernon as he shouldered his ER kit. “Tell them to dispatch an emergency response team at once.”
“But my train for Leicester leaves in fifteen minutes,” Algernon whined.
“Then type fast.” Not waiting for a response, Gabriel strode away.
“Bye, Algie dear!” Elodie said, clasping one of the accountant’s hands between both of hers and thus managing to horrify him even more than Hereford’s ruined buildings had done.
“Mrs. Tarrant,” he replied in starchy farewell, giving her a look down his nose that made it plain he still considered her to be no more than Gabriel’s wife. “I shall send you and Dr. Tarrant a copy of my report.”
“Marvelous!” Elodie said with an easy cheerfulness that came from having no intention of reading it. She kissed the lad’s cheek just to bedevil him, then, to the sounds of his outraged sputters, she hurried after Gabriel.
As they sped toward Hereford Cathedral, her heart strained at the sight of despairing locals gathered outside damaged buildings while crews worked to clear immediate hazards. She wished she could stop and offer help, but that would make her only another pair of hands, instead of an expert who could ensure worse catastrophe did not hit farther down the line. So she looked ahead to the cathedral and ran, following Gabriel past rubble and around hot spots of magic, along the efficient route he’d mapped out during the train journey.
Incredibly, the great stone church remained untouched, not even one window broken. This was entirely thanks to Professor Tarrant (i.e., the Amelia one), according to the wardens whom Gabriel and Elodie questioned.
“She was remarkably efficient in the way she directed us all in creating a defense for the building,” said one gentleman in breathless tones.
“She was impressive,” said the other, eyes huge.
“She was bloody terrifying,” added the first, and they both nodded vigorously.
“Where is she now?” Gabriel asked with unrestrained impatience.
“In the south transept,” came the reply, “helping prepare for any wounded that are brought here from the city. But are you sure you want to see her? I wasn’t exaggerating when I said ‘bloody terrifying.’?”
“I believe you,” Gabriel answered grimly. “She’s my sister.”
After a few murmurs of sympathy, they were directed to said transept, where they found Amelia directing a group of nuns to lay choir bench cushions on the floor as beds and tear up priests’ robes for bandages. Light streaming in through the great stained glass window illuminated her dark hair with a glinting blue aura, making her seem enchanted. Noticing Gabriel and Elodie arrive, she gave a last crisp order to a pair of tremulous novices, who clearly believed they were going to hell for destroying the dean’s gold-embroidered chasuble but dared not refuse her, and then she walked over, heels tapping against the stone floor like a teacher’s pointer tapping against a blackboard.
“You’re here,” she said, stiff and dispassionate as she scrutinized them both. “Unharmed?”
“Unharmed,” Gabriel said in the same cool tone.
Immediately the tension in her body eased, allowing a sigh of relief to escape her. She gave them a bright and really quite beautiful smile, and Elodie wondered how anyone could consider this woman terrifying.
“And you’re unhurt also?” Gabriel asked. The question wavered ever so slightly; glancing at him, Elodie saw warmth and worry in his eyes as he regarded his sister. Almost at once he composed himself and frowned with aggravation, but the damage was done. His familial love was exposed.
“I’m fine,” Amelia said. “Kinetic thaumaturgic energy coming down the fey line struck Hereford approximately thirty-seven minutes ago.” She paused, consulting a delicate silver watch on her wrist. “Thirty-eight minutes. Thanks to your telegram, we were as prepared as we could be. Much of the population was evacuated northward, and the cathedral protected by certain iron and gold items at key points around its perimeter, as you recommended. Staff were reluctant at first to obey my directions, but that was soon remedied.”
She spoke with such incisiveness, Elodie got a sense now of why the wardens had been so jittery. Amelia was not stern and pedantic like her brother; rather, she appeared to be efficiency personified, a trait all too often equated with “terrorizing” in women. Elodie rather wished she had a little of it herself.
“Unfortunately, our defenses were breached in one place,” Amelia continued, “as a result of which the ghost of King Ethelbert is at present wandering around the Bishop’s Cloister, complaining that he can’t find his bones.” She rolled her eyes as if the spectral king were just a silly lad behaving in naughty fashion. “Otherwise, none of the artifacts in the cathedral were triggered. I’ve obtained the Magna Carta for you. It’s in that leather case.”
She pointed to a large satchel propped up on a nearby chair. “Hm,” Gabriel said with a nod.
“Thank you for your help,” Elodie added more effusively. “I’m sorry for interfering with your study of the charter.”
“Not at all,” Amelia reassured her. “To be honest, the study was just a cover story to get me into the cathedral. I’m looking for a long-lost…well, never mind. In the case you’ll find the 1217 issue of the Magna Carta, along with an accompanying King’s Writ and a fourteenth-century book of prayers illuminated with thaumaturgic gold. Together they contain a formidable amount of magical power, but I do fear not even they could stop a cascade.”
“Frankly, we don’t have any other options to try,” Gabriel said. “We’re out of time. In fact, we’ll be lucky to get in front of the cascade at all. I didn’t think it would have reached Hereford by now.”
“Well, there’s an ancient yew tree on a site of pagan worship not far from here, which may slow its progress,” Amelia said, providing them with hope but simultaneously taking it away with her doubtful tone. “I suppose though you’ll just have to put your faith in the British rail system.”
A taut and painfully eloquent moment of silence followed this, then Amelia’s expression shifted, becoming one Elodie had seen all too often on Gabriel: officious, determined. “I shall come with you,” she announced peremptorily.
“No,” Gabriel said at once. “It’s obvious they need you here. And we need you here too, in case the energy rebound causes further problems for the city.”
“Hm. Very well.” Amelia was clearly not pleased, but nevertheless recognized his logic. Elodie began to feel pity for these Tarrant children, raised to be so very sensible. If she’d been in Amelia’s place, no amount of good sense would have restrained her from doing what she wanted. Er…which probably wasn’t such a great recommendation of her own character, come to think of it…
“Just take care of yourselves,” Amelia admonished them. “And mind you don’t damage those documents. They’re great treasures, and the cathedral’s archivist is upset enough with me as it is.”
“Why is he upset with you, Amelia?” Gabriel asked, suspicion freighting his voice.
“Because I tied him up and put him in a cupboard so I could steal those treasures for you,” she answered, much in the same way another person would have said, Because I accidentally stepped on his foot.
Elodie and Gabriel exchanged a glance, then shrugged. The archivist could complain to the Home Office after they’d saved the world.
“We’ll do our best to keep them safe,” Elodie promised, trying not to think about the gallons of water that had exploded in her vicinity over the past couple of days.
“And don’t get killed,” Amelia added, giving Gabriel the stern look that Elodie was beginning to understand represented love, Tarrant-style. “Aunt Mary is preparing a rather nice dinner for this Sunday, and she’ll complain horribly if the family has to attend your funeral instead.”
“I’ll save the world for the sake of Aunt Mary’s roast lamb,” Gabriel told her. Brother and sister frowned at each other for an intense, poignant moment that almost brought tears to Elodie’s eyes. Then, taking up the leather case from the chair, Gabriel walked away, no doubt expecting Elodie to follow. But even as she took one step, Amelia hissed to her.
“Professor, wait.”
When Elodie turned back, the woman made a come closer gesture, and Elodie obeyed rather nervously.
Amelia glanced over Elodie’s shoulder at Gabriel’s departing form, then regarded Elodie amazedly. “He’s looking almost cheerful . What have you done to him?”
“Er…” Elodie said, blushing.
“I see.” Amelia’s nose wrinkled with sisterly distaste. “I’m sorry I asked. But I must say, I do admire you, Professor. When Gabriel told me you were a remarkable woman, I assumed he was talking about your career success. Now I understand what he actually meant. Anyone who can make our Grouchyboo smile like that is remarkable indeed.”
Elodie felt rather overcome by this speech. Remarkable woman! Grouchyboo! But most of all: “He was smiling?” Had she blinked and missed it?
“On the inside,” Amelia explained. “A sister can discern these things. Please, take care of him.”
“I will,” Elodie assured her, and they both pretended not to know that the advancing tidal wave of magic might just overwhelm her every effort to do so.
“Now excuse me,” Amelia said. “I see one of the nuns trying to hide the dean’s silk stole…”
Leaving her to it, Elodie hurried after Gabriel, her thoughts swirling with the disaster threatening Oxford and London what Amelia had said. She felt so charmed by the information, she could have been identified as a level nine thaumaturgic node.
“To Cheltenham next?” she asked Gabriel as they strode through the nave.
“The cascade reached here in only four hours,” Gabriel replied. “At that speed, it will be through Cheltenham before we can get there. We have to make straight for Oxford and hope we arrive in time. The next train leaves in…” He consulted his wristwatch, and his frown leaped. “Twenty-three minutes.”
Elodie’s swirling thoughts tripped to a standstill. “You have the Hereford rail schedule memorized?”
“Of course,” he said as if it were obvious. “Needing to make a quick turnaround was always a possibility. One must be prepared.”
“Somebody should give you a badge for Best Geographer.”
“You mean my 1887 Mercator Award for Excellence in Exigent Geographical Science?”
She laughed. “That would do, yes.”
She wanted to ask him how he’d felt, accepting the award, and whether he’d hung it on his office wall, and what his favorite color was, but she had no chance. Exiting the church, they raced back through Hereford to the train station.
Thankfully, although there existed no official award for running fast, it was a skill emergency geographers tended to excel at, as is usually the case when one regularly finds a flood or furious rosebush hot on one’s heels. Consequently, they reached the station just in time to board the Oxford-bound train before it departed.
The following three hours were spent in the train’s first class dining car, where they laid maps and notes across a table, drank copious amounts of tea, and planned to yet again save the world methodically (Elodie rolled her eyes at Gabriel) and safely (Gabriel frowned at Elodie). He was polite, listening to all she suggested. She was also polite, pouring his tea and not calling him Mr. Grouchyboo.
Indeed, their conduct was so exceedingly polite that Elodie felt like the morning’s tryst had never occurred and the words “my every thought circles back to you, my every breath wants to kiss you” never spoken. (Gabriel might be able to memorize train schedules, but Elodie remembered the important things.) The closer to Oxford they traveled, the more their conversation faltered, until Gabriel resumed using “hm” instead of actual, polysyllabic words, and Elodie chewed her bottom lip so much it bled. Evidently having passionate sex, followed thereafter by narrowly avoiding death, did not automatically resolve relationship issues. Elodie was at a loss as to what to do next.
Gradually, they dwindled into an uncertain silence. Gabriel stared out the window. Elodie stared at the silver teapot. In fact, both were watching the other’s reflection in said window and pot.
Patience shall be my compass, Elodie decided at last, reminding herself of the determination she’d made in the fields of D?lylleuad. If she proceeded with care and gentleness, she might unearth the secret troves in Gabriel’s heart. Impressed by this rather nifty pun, she turned back to him with studied casualness. “I hope Professor Jackson hasn’t caused any further explosions in D?lylleuad,” she said.
As conversation starters went, it had promise, but Gabriel only responded with “hm” again. The silence clamped back down.
“I wonder if Baby recovered fully from the magic he ingested,” she tried while the train was paused in Evesham.
“Probably,” came the reply.
The silence dug a hole in the space between them and began laying concrete foundations.
“This is a very long journey,” she commented with perhaps a tad less patience than one might wish for as they traversed Moreton-in-Marsh. Gabriel inhaled, surely for the purpose of answering…Elodie held her own breath…
Then he nodded and went on staring out the window. At which point, Elodie reached for the sugar canister, but withdrew her hand again, since throwing it at her husband’s soddish head really would be undignified behavior.
But no one had ever called Elodie Hughes Tarrant a quitter (perhaps because they were too occupied with calling her scandalous). “Your sister is interesting,” she remarked in a carefully offhand way as the outskirts of Oxford appeared in view.
At this, Gabriel did look up, teacup suspended en route to his lips. Such kissable lips, Elodie thought with a quiet sigh, and her own cup shook so much in her hand that tea splashed into the saucer. Gabriel watched expressionlessly as she hastily set it down.
“She’s always been the most interesting one in our family,” he said. “When she chose to study history instead of science, it caused a general uproar, but she insisted. The fact she was able to exorcize two ghosts from our aunt’s house did rather help her cause.”
Elodie was hard-pressed to restrain her excitement at this voluble response. Gabriel had never spoken much about his family, and she’d never dared to pry. But now, encouraged by his revelation, she propped her elbows on the table, rested her chin upon them, and looked at him with big eyes. “So, do you have any other siblings?”
“No.” He began folding his napkin to within an inch of its life, and Elodie thought that was that. Frustrated at his refusal to share anything of himself, she reached for her teacup again. But then he said, “I do have a cousin who is like a brother to me, however.”
Once again, tea splashed, and the teaspoon tumbled right off the saucer, clattering against the table and eliciting disapproving murmurs from nearby diners.
“Indeed?” Elodie asked, the nonchalance in her voice betrayed by the mayhem she was causing with her dishes.
“Devon. He’s currently on honeymoon in New Zealand.”
“Ooh, wonderful landscapes there.”
“Hm.”
She thought the conversation had ended yet again. Gabriel laid down his napkin and took great pains to smooth it to perfection. But then he took a deep breath and said, “Do you have siblings?”
Although he appeared to be addressing the linen, Elodie felt the question barrel right through to her heart, which shook in panic. The conversation was actually going forward! She’d played with fire and now had to face the consequences! How should she answer? Lightly? Wryly? Oh God, what if she messed it up? Five seconds had passed since Gabriel had asked his question, and she really, really needed to make a response…
“It’s just me,” she said with a smile.
Gabriel looked up at her again. His face was shadow, then gold, then shadow again as light flashed and faded through the carriage window, but his expression remained dark and still, much like an inn’s cellar. Elodie swallowed heavily, unable to look away.
“It’s never just you,” he said.
Elodie immediately and spontaneously combusted, albeit only in metaphor. In reality, she dared not move as warmth pooled at her core. In front of her, the teaspoon, set trembling by the train’s motion, was inching its way toward the edge of the table. Behind her, a half dozen passengers engaged in quiet conversation. And somewhere out there between Hereford and Oxford, a fey line was in terrifying cascade. But Elodie noticed none of it. In her imagination (a much more pleasant place to be), Gabriel was pulling her into one of the sleeper compartments and having his delightfully arrogant way with her.
And judging from the unrelenting depth of his gaze, he shared the same idea.
Just then the train began to slow, indicating that it would soon be arriving at Oxford Station. Elodie sagged internally at the thought of the return to normal life (providing, that is, magic didn’t explode the university into pieces). Gabriel went on gazing at her, however. He was unblinking, uncompromising, not setting her free. All the air in the carriage seemed to vanish. Elodie began to feel dizzy, her pulse thundering in her ears. She tried to look down, for relief, but Gabriel’s attention had always been her own personal gravity. She could not deny it. She could not even breathe. Would he lean across the table and kiss her? His eyes suggested it. They spoke of lips brushing, tongues stroking, and a foot sliding up beneath her skirt.
Alas, none of this occurred. But Gabriel’s gaze did intensify, and Elodie realized all of a sudden that his eyes truly were suggesting things. He was communicating with her, albeit wordlessly. His heart was in that fierce gaze—exposed, honest, and offered freely to her. I want you, it plainly said. I cannot stop thinking about you. I’ve had a little too much tea and am suffering the effects of this but nevertheless desire to kiss your throat and all the way down to your gorgeous bosom.
Well, perhaps that last part was hers, since she doubted Gabriel had ever used the word “bosom” in all his life; but even so, she was entranced. And abashed too, understanding now that lovingly accepting her husband’s taciturn nature wasn’t enough. There would be much thoughtful work ahead to learn the wealth of language in his silence. With her usual positivity, Elodie trusted that she would have a lifetime to devote herself to the task—especially considering the way Gabriel’s gaze was currently stroking the front of her shirtwaist, then pausing as if it could see right through the cambric. Such eloquence set her own language into twinkling disarray and she almost moaned, but was saved from this indignity by her teaspoon finally making a dive for the floor.
The clatter of its landing, and the gasp of a scandalized waiter, broke Elodie from Gabriel’s thrall. She bent with such speed to retrieve the spoon that all the blood rushed to her head—which at least provided an excellent excuse for why she was red-faced and dizzy. Straightening, she found Gabriel busy rolling up maps as if nothing interesting had occurred.
“Ready?” he asked, brisk and professional. But he glanced through his lashes at her, and she saw the warmth in his eyes. Not heat now, nor fierceness, but a soft and amiable warmth that wrapped around her, making her feel for the first time like she truly did belong to him, or more specifically with him—the two of them in a partnership that extended beyond their marriage to the many years they’d grown into adulthood together, even through the months they’d tried to stay apart.
“Ready,” she said, grinning, and tossed the teaspoon on the table with a zestful clink .