Magic most deadly, p.18
Magic Most Deadly, page 18
“Finiatur.”
The sensation of magic moving through her veins stopped. Maia waited for several beats of her rapidly thudding heart, but nothing else happened. She sagged against the wall, suddenly aware of the fiery prickles of pain running up and down her limbs.
Thankful for something to occupy her mind, she set to rubbing her arms and legs as briskly as possible, biting her lips against crying out as the blood began to move freely again. Her next step was to retie her shoelaces, which had loosened along with her bindings. Maia scowled at that; surely there was a way to be more precise, so that only the knots one wished would come loose, not all of them. Still, a small price to pay, and she was only thankful that her undergarments were all held with straps, elastic, and buttons, rather than ties.
Finally, she was able to stand up and walk around.
One step closer to freedom. Now, she believed, it was time to shed a little—a very little—light on the matter. She hadn’t learned a specific spell for a small light, but she remembered enough Latin to be able to adapt the spell Len had taught her.
“Lux parva fiat,” she said.
A tiny ball of silver light sprang to life above her open palm.
The relief at being able to see was indescribable.
It was an empty room, with dusty velvet drapes covering the windows and no furniture or anything useful that she could use in escaping. Maia patted the lump in her stocking top to reassure herself that with or without magic, she was not helpless now.
A pity she hadn’t remembered it when confronting Sir Bertram earlier!
She moved to open the drapes, but hesitated. What if Sir Bertram or one of his henchmen were outside? The open drapes would show that she had freed herself. No, since she had her magic light, she would use that, and leave the windows be.
The next step was to unlock the door. She directed her light to illumine the lock. No doubt she could simply whisper the Latin word for “open,” but she didn’t think she even needed to do that much.
It was a very simple lock, and the keyhole was empty, thanks to the thug taking the key with him when he left. Despite the events of the day, Maia still had a few hairpins left. This would not be difficult.
Maia flexed her sore fingers, drew a pin out of her hair, ignoring the curl that promptly swept across her cheek, and went to work.
It had been a long time since she and Ray had taught themselves to pick locks during his Raffles craze, but she had never lost the skill. Indeed, it had come in handy once or twice even in recent years, but never in such dire circumstances as this.
A few final twitches, and the lock gave way. Maia eased the door open onto an empty hallway. Apparently her guard had decided he could do his job just as well from the bottom of the stairs as at her door. Daylight shone through the windows here, causing her to blink and making her little light redundant.
“Finiatur,” she whispered, and with a small pang she watched it wink out.
She was free—from her prison room, at least. As for the rest, she’d have to take it one step at a time.
She did wonder if her absence had been noticed yet at Little Oaks, or if they’d all forgotten about her the moment she was out of sight. Was anybody looking for her?
Even if anyone was, there was only a slight possibility they’d think to look here. No, a rescue was not likely to happen. She was on her own.
Maia told herself she preferred it that way, being independent and strong, but she still felt a twinge. It would be nice to have someone to rely on, instead of always being the relied-upon. She didn’t want to languish away waiting for someone to save her, but knowing there was even one person out there to help would have been lovely. Someone more than a friend to call on her when in need, but a partner of sorts, someone to help and be helped in equal measure.
Maia pursed her lips wryly. This was hardly the place for romantic dreams. She bent down and took off her shoes and, holding them in one hand, crept in her stocking feet down the bare floor, stepping as lightly as she could to avoid creaking floorboards, hoping against hope she would find the stairs and at least make it down one more story before anyone saw her.
Oh, what she wouldn’t give for Len’s chameleon spell!
* * *
Maia’s luck held until she reached the first floor. There she had the misfortune to bump—quite literally—into a housemaid backing out of one of the bedrooms.
The maid screamed. Maia wasn’t sure if it was the unexpectedness of the encounter, or the fact that Maia herself must have looked like something from a horrid gothic novel—bruised and mussed, clothes filthy and torn, fingertips covered with dried blood and unspeakable grime.
Footsteps thundered up the stairs and two footmen burst on the scene. Three more housemaids came running down the hall, their cries of concern jumbling together so no words could be made out. Another door off the landing crashed open, and the thug Maia had tripped stumbled out of the bedroom where he’d apparently been taking a nap in his shirtsleeves, his face darkening with suffused blood when he saw her. Finally, following in the wake of the housemaids, strolling without undue concern, came Mrs. Saunders.
Maia put her back to the wall and whipped her pistol out of her stocking. This time all the housemaids screamed, and one of the footmen turned green.
“Despite being abducted, tied up, stuck in a dark attic, and left to rot, I have no desire to shoot anybody,” Maia said. “However, I will do so if I am forced, no matter how distasteful the task.”
“I don’t believe you,” the non-green footman said.
“Believe her,” the thug answered, never taking his eyes from Maia’s face. “She’s mad enough to do anything.”
“You can’t escape,” Mrs. Saunders pointed out, as calmly as though they were once again discussing appropriate behavior for young women at the dinner table. “As soon as you turn your back on one of us, we’ll have you captured again.”
“And you can’t think you can keep me here forever,” Maia countered. “Already the police are looking for me.” Oh, how she wished that were true! “They will find me, and you, and arrest you. Prison is not, I believe, a very comfortable place for a lady.”
“What do you suggest?” the other asked, her upper lip curling in a sneer. Why had Maia never noticed the slight accent lurking behind her words before?
“I suggest,” she said, holding the gun steady, “that you and I retire to a more private room, and discuss the matter there.”
Mrs. Saunders smiled coolly, all traces of the mousy, fretful, dull woman she had appeared at Little Oaks now vanished. In her place stood a woman in careful control of herself and her situation, despite Maia aiming a pistol at her.
“Very well,” she said. “This entire situation has turned into an utter farce as it is. It only goes to show that one cannot trust the English to do anything well.” She sighed. “Hawkins, you may wait outside my sitting room until Miss Whitney and I have finished our conversation. The rest of you, back to work. I did not give you permission to stop and gawk at a street show.” She smirked at Maia. “Will that suffice, Miss Whitney?”
Maia considered it. She was uneasy about allowing Mrs. Saunders too much say in how this went. She didn’t like the fact that the other woman seemed so confident even in the face of her prisoner having escaped and confronting her with a gun. On the other hand, unless she was a magician herself, there was very little she could do against Maia, who was armed both physically and magically, and was irritated to boot. She found she was experiencing an intense desire to wipe the smirk off Mrs. Saunders’ face.
Suddenly, Maia’s shoulders relaxed. This was merely a battle of wits between her and the other woman. Both appearing dull to the world but with a hidden secret that transformed them into something else. In Mrs. Saunders’ case, the secret was one of deception, treachery, and hatred. But Maia’s—ah, her secret was a beautiful one, and it had transformed her life into something full of wonder and excitement. In this situation, she had every confidence she could outwit her opponent.
“The sitting room will do nicely,” she said. “Mr. Hawkins may certainly wait outside if that makes you feel more comfortable.”
For the first time, a shadow crossed Mrs. Saunders’ face, as though Maia’s own calmness had begun to undo hers. It passed quickly enough, and she walked into the sitting room opposite the bedrooms with her back straight and her head high. Maia kept her own back to the wall as she slid around to follow the other woman through the open doorway, turning sideways as she did so as to keep her attention both on the hallway outside and the room within. Almost to her disappointment, Mrs. Saunders was not waiting to trap her, but had seated herself in a green velvet chair, ankles crossed neatly and hands folded demurely in her lap. Maia took one quick look around the room to ensure it was empty, and then she shut the door in the face of the angry Hawkins. Turning the key in the lock, she felt—if not safe, than safer—for the first time since leaving on a walk with Sir Bertram that morning.
Maia glanced out the window as she crossed the room so as to be able to lean against a wall and still keep her pistol steady on her prisoner. She didn’t trust herself not to fall asleep if she sat down, but nor did she trust her legs entirely to hold her during their conversation. Across the rolling green hills out the window, she saw a faint bronze light dancing through the air, as though a heat shimmer had taken on color. Maia’s heart lifted at the sight.
“What was it you wished to discuss, Miss Whitney?” Mrs. Saunders asked.
Maia turned her attention back inside the room. She decided not to waste time asking Mrs. Saunders why she was doing this or what she hoped to gain. Instead, she went straight to the point.
“Where are the papers you bought from Sir Bertram Grimes?”
Mrs. Saunders shrugged. “I haven’t the faintest idea. He has been so occupied with making a fool of your sister and patting himself on the back for having outsmarted you and your Mr. Davies that we haven’t had a moment to effect the exchange. I had thought that by retiring to my own house it might make it simpler for him to hand them over in exchange for the diamonds. Imagine my disappointment this morning when instead of bringing the papers he brought me you, with the insistence that I keep you prisoner here until our business was completed, for fear you would spoil everything.” She sighed. “Nonsense, of course—as though a silly chit like you could ever spoil plans that have been laid and working themselves out for years—but he was so distressed there was little I could do to talk him out of it. Men, you know, are so emotional.”
Maia matched her cool smile with one of her own. She knew perfectly well that every part of Mrs. Saunders’ speech was designed to make her lose her temper and so allow the other woman to get the upper hand. She refused to rise to the bait—not even the “silly chit” part, which was as nonsensical as they came. She hadn’t been a silly chit since she was about twelve years old, and quite possibly not even then.
As for Sir Bertram making a fool of Merry—goodness, she was seventeen years old, and surrounded by friends and people who cared for her. She would be embarrassed to look back on this incident, no doubt, but it was not enough to cause her permanent harm. Who knew, it might even do her some good?
“In that case, I would ask when you are expecting Sir Bertram to return,” Maia said.
Mrs. Saunders jerked a little, as though she didn’t quite know how to respond to someone who didn’t react to being poked. “Why, any moment,” she said after a tiny pause. “Though I doubt he’ll have the papers with him. Now that it comes down to it, I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s having second thoughts. He hates all you magicians, but even to get rid of you he is hesitating over supporting the rise of Austria.”
Maia allowed her eyebrows to rise at that. “Austria, is it? Thank you, I was curious. Not that it matters, but one does like to have all one’s facts straight, you know. Along those lines, were you the spy who lured Corbin to betray the magicians in the first place, or have you merely swept in later to take advantage of the situation?”
Mrs. Saunders offered a contemptuous smile. “My dear child, I did tell you this plan has been years in the making. Haven’t you yet realized who I am?”
And then—Maia did realize it, and was horrified it had taken her so long. “You’re the—you’re the magician who advised the Kaiser.” Her next thought was ridiculous in light of everything else, but she couldn’t stop herself from blurting, “But you’re Austrian. Why were you advising the German Kaiser?”
Mrs. Saunders shrugged. “He was a useful tool. Once he had conquered the rest of the world, I would have destroyed him, and then Austria would have finally risen to her proper glory.”
“For that, you betrayed all magic-users by using your magic to help him.” Maia couldn’t fathom it. She added, “But you were defeated by the coalition of magicians when they came together to stop you.”
Mrs. Saunders pursed her mouth. “Their attack managed to strip me of my powers, but it didn’t kill me. More fools they! I had already approached that idiot Corbin beforehand, knowing he would be a good source for keeping an eye on what the English magicians were doing. I thought I had more time before they found me out, but Davies and his friends got the best of me then—though I made them pay for that.” Her face twisted in genuine anger. “My only regret is not making Davies suffer more.”
Remembering the anguish on Len’s face as he told her about Jamie and Alec, Maia felt such a strong surge of hatred for the woman seated before her that it nearly took her breath away. She glanced out the window again, and what she saw there distracted her from her unexpected emotion. She stood up straight from where she’d propped herself and began to pace slowly from one side of the room to the other, each turn taking her closer to the door. At the same time, she allowed herself to call up just a hint of her magic—not enough for it to unleash itself in an attack as it had earlier that morning, but enough that she could see silver drifting around her hand. Concentrating, Maia sent a tendril of that silver to coil under the door, where it would be invisible to anyone but those who could see her magical aura—herself and Len.
Mrs. Saunders paid no attention to these maneuvers. “I couldn’t stop the magicians from completing and performing the spell that took away my magic, but I knew I could turn that to my advantage as well. Once I persuaded Corbin to bring me the notes from the power-sharing, I could use it to siphon magic from twelve other magicians and make myself even more powerful than before. Then I would use those notes as proof of the existence of magicians in the world, and in the chaos that followed I would bring Austria back to her prior glory—even more glorious than before!”
“And what happened?” Maia said. “It’s been five years. Why didn’t Corbin bring you the notes?”
Mrs. Saunders—or the Kaiser’s Advisor—sniffed. “The fool didn’t have the nerve. He must have seen a hint of my true nature under all that slop I fed him. Oh, he stole the notes as I wanted, but then he spent the next five years hiding from me. Without my magic, it was nearly impossible to find him, so that’s when I found Sir Bertram Grimes and began feeding him rumors about magicians secretly controlling the world and stealing power from the ordinary man—meaning him, of course. He became so enraged at the thought that it was easy to make him think that he himself had come up with the plan to take the papers proving magic’s existence from Corbin and sell them to me, so that I could use them to reveal magic to the world while he stepped up and became a hero in rising to take leadership from those who fell.”
“And now that has failed you as well,” Maia pointed out, still pacing. “For you still don’t have the papers, and I am free, and people are looking for me, and all your plans are about to be exposed, and you will be ruined and imprisoned. Your schemes are at an end.”
“I think not,” Mrs. Saunders said, smiling again. She fluffed her fingers through her fair hair. “Do you really think this is my only iron in the fire? Should Sir Bertram fail me, as it seems likely he will, I have still more ways and methods of regaining my power. It might take me longer, but you really can’t stop me. You aren’t even a proper apprentice magician yet!”
“I don’t need to be a magician at all right now,” Maia said, stopping in front of the door, ears pricked. “I have a gun, and you do not.”
“Would you shoot me in cold blood?” Mrs. Saunders enquired, as though she were merely academically interested. She examined her nails as she continued. “I am unarmed, after all, and no immediate threat to you. Could you really bring yourself to murder me, you Englishwoman who believes like the rest of your race so firmly in law and justice and order? I think not. I think the best you can do is to attempt to hold me prisoner, even though as long as I live I will be a threat to you and yours.” She laughed. “No matter what, I win. If you shoot me, I’ve made you abandon your principles and become a murderer, and I shall haunt you forever. But if you let me live, you will carry the burden of all my future deeds on your shoulders, knowing you could have stopped me and didn’t. It is perfectly exquisite! I only wish it were Mr. Davies here. This would be the perfect torture for him, a recompense for what he put me through when he foiled my plans to use the Kaiser to raise myself to power.”
“You call me silly, but not even I believe that nonsense,” Maia said as she sprang to the door, whipped around the key in the lock, and took one long step to the side.
As though they had planned it, Lennox Davies burst through the door on cue, his hair mussed and his collar askew, his knuckles bloodied like a prize fighter, and a wild glow in his eyes. For all Mrs. Saunders’ boasting that she wished he was there, when he actually appeared she lost her composure for the first time. She shrieked faintly and cowered in her chair.
Aside from one comprehensive glance covering the room and its contents, Len ignored her.
“Maia! Are you—” He paused, his glance sweeping over her. “Well, I can see that you are safe and in control of the situation.” A rueful smile twisted his lips. “I should have known you were no damsel in distress needing to be rescued.”
