A Shadow Bright and Burning (Kingdom on Fire #1)(44)
My hands felt numb. “How could you have known him?”
“Your father was a magician, Henrietta Howel. As are you.”
I was on my feet before I could think. Gripping the edge of the table for balance, I said, “He couldn’t have been. He practiced the law, not magic.”
“The magical arts don’t pay much, as you see,” he said, gesturing to his squalid living conditions, “but they’re a fine place for a talented dabbler. Your father was exactly that; your aunt Agnes as well. You’re shocked. Didn’t know women could be magicians? It’s rare, but the potential is there. It all boils down to blood. And you should never try boiling blood, incidentally, for it’s a disgusting mess.” He offered me the bottle of gin. I refused, though I craved a drink. “It’s even rarer that a girl from a sorcerer family inherits her father’s ability. You’ve no sorcerer parent, so how would you explain your newfound status? A prophecy?” He blew a loud, wet, and rude noise. “You’re a magician living a most magnificent lie. Which is why,” he said, leaning in closer, “I feel a stupid urge to help you.”
I was a magician. A low, dirty, common magician. Not a sorcerer. Not the prophecy. The thoughts appeared and disappeared in my mind like ripples of water. I couldn’t hold on to them.
“How did you know my father?” I could hear my voice rising.
“We met when he came to London to see about joining our Guild. Magicians are disorganized creatures, but for a time we did discuss having another go at a Guild, much like the sorcerers’ Order. Never worked, though. Most people didn’t remember to show up for meetings. Or they’d turned themselves into a teacup and couldn’t make it. That was when the illustrious magician Howard Mickelmas presided.” He sloshed the gin bottle back and forth, lost in thought. “I must say, it was nice meeting you upon the astral plane. I haven’t conversed with a fellow magician in that way since before the ban on apprenticeships.”
My head swam. “Astral plane?”
“Another magician trick. Our souls may leave our bodies and wander the spirit dimension. Sorcerers can’t do that. That’s how I got into your room and gave you that delicious apple. Anyway, we’re getting off topic. Suffice it to say I knew your father, and after his death, Agnes told me that Helena had given birth to a daughter and that the poor widow had died from complications in the delivery. We fell out of contact after that, and I thought no more of it. Until all this happened.” He leaned over the table. “Which is why I’m trying to help you. You’re in a dangerous position.”
“Yes, because of the Ancients,” I croaked.
“No, because of monsters closer and more cunning than old R’hlem could ever be. If they discover that you’re really a magician…”
“Don’t threaten me,” I snapped.
“Threaten? Why should you feel threatened? After all, no one’s ever tortured you. No one’s forced you into giving the locations and names of other magicians, so they can be added to the sorcerers’ files on magic-born.” He rolled up his long sleeves and extended his dark, wiry arms toward me. White and gray scars lined his skin, along with old, cauterized wounds that looked suspiciously like burn marks. My hand flew to my mouth. “No one’s told you, have they, that magicians are demented versions of sorcerers? Or even worse, that we’re the descendants of the devil himself? But I’m certain you’ll never face that. After all, you can perform their magic.”
Blackwood had said that magicians were evil, his face twisted in disgust. Agrippa had spoken freely about how horrid they were. Magicians were obscene, deceitful, dirty….
“I can’t be one of you! I’m a sorcerer!” I knocked the chair over as I backed away. My legs were so weak I almost stumbled. “This is a trick. You’re trying to get money, like you did on the street. Liar!”
“I can hear your terror,” Hargrove said, sneering as he rose. Perhaps I’d wounded his pride. “You’re right to be afraid. Do you know what they’ll do when they find out you’re a magician?” His voice turned cold. “They’ll toss you out of that nice house and onto the street. They’ll drag you before the queen and have you put your name down as a potential threat. And if you so much as breathe in a manner they don’t like, they’ll cut all your pretty hair from your pretty head and bind you in chains. And they’ll take you out on a cold gray morning and sweep a shining ax through the air and straight into your pretty little—”
“Shut up!” I screamed. A burst of flame shot out of my body. Hargrove collapsed to the floor as the fireball exploded in the air. He laughed.
“So temperamental. The magic reacts to that very nicely.” Hargrove rolled his sleeves down. “Come back when you can’t perform their spells and your Master gets truly nervous. Come back if you ever want to know a little bit more about your own father.” He dusted himself off and returned to the table. Seated, he tipped the gin bottle to his lips and recovered only a few drops. “And when you come back, bring food and drink, will you?”
—
ONCE BACK INSIDE AGRIPPA’S HOUSE, I collapsed at the end of the foyer, shaking so hard I couldn’t take my gloves off. It couldn’t be. It couldn’t. It felt as if a hand were squeezing my heart. What was I going to do? What on earth could I do?