The Apothecary's Poison (Glass and Steele #3)(45)

"I'm not advocating drawing it to the public's attention, just a few friends."

"Aren't you? Isn't that what this meeting is about?"

He narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean?"

"You want me to help you bring magic into the open, whether through your newspapers or simply by discussing it with people. Well, Mr. Barratt?" I pressed when he didn't answer. "Isn't that true?"

He blew out a measured breath, taking his time to answer. "The cause is important to me," he said carefully. "I do want to bring magic into the open. But I sincerely wish to see you learn more about your magic, not to help me, but to help yourself. I know how frustrating it must be for you. I can't imagine not knowing where my magic came from and not being able to discuss it with like-minded magicians." He placed his hand over mine.

I stared down at it. I ought to withdraw, but I didn't want to. "Thank you for understanding," I said. "It means a lot to me. I have no magical friends, you see, and—"

A shadow blocked the light from the doorway. I looked up to see Matt standing there, looking disheveled from his rest and startled at seeing a visitor. His gaze rose from our linked hands to my face. His jaw hardened.

"Barratt," he growled. "What are you doing here?"

I snatched my hand away.

"I came to see you," Mr. Barratt said, rising. "I've been enjoying tea with Miss Steele while you completed your business. We've been discussing her magic."

Matt strode in and stood by the fireplace. "Your magic, India?"

I knew from his glare that he didn't want me to talk about it with Mr. Barratt. But, despite his profession, I believed the journalist would keep my secret and only release it if I gave permission.

I poured tea for Matt and held it out to him. "Yes, my magic." I heard the hard tone in my voice and didn't regret it. He couldn't order me about on this. "It's nice to talk to other magicians about it," I added, softer. He accepted the cup but I did not let it go immediately. I held on until his gaze connected with mine again.

He lifted his chin in a nod, and I allowed him to take the cup and saucer.

"There are things only another magician can understand," Mr. Barratt said cheerfully. "Miss Steele needs a friend to talk to about it from time to time, that's all."

"And you are now that friend," Matt said tightly.

Mr. Barratt smiled.

Time to change the subject before the tension in the air stretched more. "Now that you're here, Matt, perhaps Mr. Barratt can tell us a little more about his discussion with Dr. Hale."

"Excellent idea," Matt said with far more eagerness than the situation warranted. "According to our source, Dr. Hale claimed you badgered him into talking about his magic."

"Badgered? I did no such thing. He willingly spoke to me. He thought my articles were a good way to draw out more magicians."

"That's not what we were told. Did he tell you he'd changed his mind, perhaps? Did you fight about it?"

I tried to catch Matt's eye but he would not look at me. No doubt he knew he'd find himself on the sharp end of my glare and didn't want to be spiked.

"Who is your source?" Mr. Barratt asked.

"Just answer the question," Matt said.

"Your source has it wrong. Dr. Hale and I spoke again after the newspaper article ran that morning—"

"You mean on the day he died. Why didn't you tell us you spoke to him then, too?"

"It wasn't relevant," Mr. Barratt said, his voice laced with steel. "As I was saying, we spoke about his concerns, and I assured him that the articles were vague enough that the artless would think nothing of it. In fact, we agreed that the articles were important—that finding more magicians was important—with the aim of one day going public. Like me, he was tired of hiding his magic."

"Acceptance isn't going to happen overnight," Matt said. "Getting the word out to the public will cause years of unrest between the artless and magicians. Perhaps even decades. The artless are afraid of losing their businesses, their livelihoods, and they're not going to sit idly by and allow magicians to take everything from them. You live in a fantasy world if you think that."

"I admit some adjustments will be necessary," Mr. Barratt said. "But they can be made. The country isn't overrun with magicians, for one thing. There will still be opportunities for the artless and their businesses to succeed."

"I wish I shared your enthusiasm and optimism. I truly do. I want India to be able to discuss her magic without fear of recrimination, but I've seen the worst of humanity, and I have little faith in magicians and the artless living harmoniously together. If keeping magic a secret means she is safe, then that's what I advocate, no matter how much it frustrates you—or her. Frustration is a small price to pay for one's life."

He did not look at me, but I felt as though he spoke directly to me. I'd always understood his need for secrecy, but to hear his voice rasp with earnestness as he told Mr. Barratt his reasons drove it home.

"I cannot argue with your position, Mr. Glass," Mr. Barratt said. "I would very much like to keep Miss Steele safe too."

Matt stiffened.

"But this is beyond her, or me, or any single magician," Mr. Barratt went on. "This is not about today or tomorrow, or even next year or ten years from now. What I want will change the lives of the next generation of magicians and the generation after that. I'd like my grandchildren to live openly and harmoniously among the artless without fear."