The Apothecary's Poison (Glass and Steele #3)(16)

"What Mr. Glass is trying to say," I said, "is that we learned you withheld some facts from your story. For instance, the patient probably wasn't dead at the time, and Dr. Hale used a medicine. It was not a miracle."

Barratt didn't look at all concerned that he'd been caught out. He simply nodded. "The witness I spoke to swore that the patient was dead when Hale tended to him. Another witness had said that he wasn't, but couldn't be completely sure, so I decided not to pursue that route. I was on deadline, you see, and the story had to be filed to get it to print in time. As to Dr. Hale using a medicine, I included that point in my story. My editor took it out without my knowledge. I wish he hadn't, but he's my employer and can do as he pleases."

"That's not fair," I said. "It's your name in the byline, not his. He shouldn't be allowed."

Barratt merely shrugged. "I must try to report the truth as I see it, Miss Steele. It's my editor's job to sell more newspapers. Sometimes that means he changes parts, here and there, to make the story more interesting to the public. Now, may I ask you a question?" He directed this to Matt, not me. "Why were you so interested in Dr. Hale's medical miracle?"

I bit the inside of my cheek and glanced sideways at Matt. I couldn't imagine him admitting to Barratt that he was ill.

"We're interested in magic." Matt's words dropped heavily into the silence.

I sucked in a breath and held it.

Barratt had also seemed to stop breathing. "Go on." He had not scoffed, laughed or denied the existence of magic. This man knew. I was certain of it now.

"You've written a few articles that allude to magical events," Matt said.

"Only in vague terms."

"Dr. Hale's so-called miracle was the latest."

"And?" Barratt prompted.

"Why?" Matt pressed. "What are you trying to achieve?"

Barratt stood and came round the desk. He perched on the edge near Matt and folded his arms over his chest. For a moment, I thought he did it to intimidate and force Matt to withdraw his question, but then he answered. "I want to draw people out. People with an interest in magic, like yourselves, who are looking for signs that magic exists. My reports act as those signs."

"Again," Matt said, his voice a low growl, "why?"

Barratt unfolded his arms, knocking a stack of papers piled on his desk. They fluttered to the floor near Matt's feet. One fell between Matt and me. Matt picked some up and handed them back to Barratt.

"Well?" Matt asked. "Tell us what interest you have in drawing out people curious about magic."

Barratt stared at the papers in his hand. A small frown appeared between his brows. He glanced at Matt, glanced at the papers again, and sighed. Perhaps the one he needed was the one that had fallen between Matt and me. I picked it up only to let it go again with a gasp.

The paper was warm. The room, however, was cool.

"India?" Matt asked. "What's the matter?"

Barratt watched me with an intensity that I'd only ever seen on Matt's face before. It was as if the world had closed in and it was only he and I in the room.

"Miss Steele?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "What is it?"

I picked up the paper again. This time the warmth infused me, gently washing up my arm. It was magical heat, the kind that responded to my magic. "You're a magician." The words tumbled out before I thought them through; before I realized what conclusion he would come to. I quickly dropped the paper on the desk then tucked my hand into my skirt folds.

Barratt's gaze followed it then lifted to my face. "Yes, Miss Steele. I am. And I see from your reaction that you are too."





Chapter 4





"I have some magical ability," I said before Matt could stop me. Before I could stop myself. I wanted to tell Barratt but fear might cripple me if I let it. "Timepieces," I added.

Mr. Barratt smiled, a genuine, heartfelt smile. "Thank you for telling me, Miss Steele. I can see that you're concerned about imparting such personal information to a stranger."

"With good reason," Matt said. "If it's mentioned outside this room, you'll be receiving another visit from me. With much less civility."

Barratt held up his hands in surrender. "I can see that you're very protective of her."

That seemed to diffuse Matt's temper somewhat. He tapped his finger on the paper I'd picked up. "You're a paper magician?"

"Ink. Miss Steele felt the warmth of the ink magic, not the paper."

"What does ink magic achieve?"

Barratt sat down and pulled a piece of blank paper to him then dipped his pen in the inkwell. He began to write. 'Watch these words, Miss Steele' he wrote. 'They're remarkable words for a remarkable woman.'

"Nothing's happening," Matt growled.

Barratt began to recite poetic words in another language. I couldn't understand them, but they sounded dreamlike when spoken in such a rich, modular voice. They mesmerized me.

Until the words lifted off the page.

I sat back and stared. The words rose from the paper as if they were leaves caught in a breeze. The letters swirled in the air, keeping position within their word and sentence so that they looked like twirling ribbons.