The Apothecary's Poison (Glass and Steele #3)(72)

Two men wearing woolen caps walked toward us and Matt stiffened. He edged closer to me. "What do you want with Hale's medicines?" he asked Clark.

"That is none of your affair." Mr. Clark backed toward the door. "Now, if that's all—"

"You want to test them," Matt went on. "Am I right? You want to know what ingredients he has used to make them so good."

"If you say so."

Matt waited until the two men were out of earshot before speaking again. "You won't find the secret ingredient, Mr. Clark. Magic cannot be seen, smelled, touched or extracted."

Mr. Clark glanced nervously at the men's backs. "Are you mad?" he hissed, stepping toward Matt. "They could have overheard you."

"Magic is bound to the medicine," Matt said. "The spell makes it part of the medicine, but it fades in time. It's likely the magic infused into the medicines in your possession has dispersed and lost effectiveness. Even if that is not the case, an artless apothecary will learn nothing from testing them. A magician can, perhaps. I don't know. I'm no expert."

Mr. Clark's nostrils flared, but I didn't know if it was in anger or disappointment. "Is that what you came for? To tell me my efforts are wasted?"

"And to ask you to tell us what you and Abercrombie argued about the other day." Matt held up his finger when Mr. Clark opened his mouth to speak. "Before you deny it, I'll point out that you were seen. Oh, and if you refuse to tell us, I'll go to the police about the stolen medicine bottles."

"They're not stolen! I bought them!"

"I doubt the police will care how you acquired them, only that you did."

Mr. Clark appealed to me, but I merely shrugged. "We could send the police to Mr. Abercrombie's shop, if you like," I said, "and have them question him."

"Our discussion had nothing to do with Hale's murder," he whispered harshly as two women walked by.

"A visit from the police will be terribly inconvenient for Mr. Abercrombie," I went on. "They might frighten his customers away."

His expelled breath hissed between his teeth. "We argued about what to do with magicians. There. Satisfied?"

"And what did you decide ought to be done?" Matt growled. "Burning at the stake? Hanging?"

Mr. Clark screwed up his face. "Don't be absurd. What do you take us for? We simply argued about whether banning them from their respective guilds was enough. I say yes, he thinks not. He used you as an example, Miss Steele."

"Me?"

He nodded. "He thinks if nothing is done about the problem, magicians will begin to see themselves as…as invincible."

"Invincible? Is that the word he used?"

"Not quite." His gaze drifted away. "He said you would see yourselves as gods, far above the rest of us mortals."

"We are mortal, Mr. Clark, like you." Good lord. The misinformation was bordering on the ridiculous. "Perhaps Mr. Abercrombie ought to actually speak to a magician about their powers rather than read medieval stories designed to scare people."

"India doesn't think she is invincible," Matt said. "You can tell Abercrombie that."

"According to him, she has become rather a…difficult woman since learning of her ability."

"She has come out of her shell, that's all."

"Abercrombie says she used to be a good, agreeable sort of girl, and now she speaks her mind and doesn't listen to her betters."

Matt grunted. "Abercrombie is not her better. Be sure to tell him that too when next you see him. And add that she should speak her mind since she's an intelligent woman with interesting things to say. Perhaps if he, or you, got to know her, you'd see that. Good day, Mr. Clark."

Matt stepped away and waited for me, but I didn't move. "Mr. Clark," I said, "what did Mr. Abercrombie propose should be done with magicians if banning them from the guilds is not enough?"

He backed up and rapped sharply on the door. "Dear me," he said, hands in the air. "I can't recall."

The porter opened the door and Clark slipped inside. The door slammed shut.

Matt took my hand. "India, you're shaking."

"With fury."

His hand tightened. "You need a treat. Would you like a bun? Scone? Pie?"

I spluttered a laugh. Of all the things I expected him to say, that was not one of them. "What I need is to pay Abercrombie a visit and turn him into a toad. Since my magic isn't that useful, I'll settle for confectionery. There's an excellent shop on Piccadilly."

He did not let my hand go as we drove off, and I felt grateful for the contact. I stopped shaking after a few minutes and thought over the discussion again. Mr. Clark had not told us anything that we didn't already know, including Abercrombie's thoughts on the matter of magicians. It had been a wasted effort that had only served to fluster me.

Matt kept his gaze locked on the street out the window and announced that we had not been followed when we reached Piccadilly. He sent Bryce home and bought a selection of petit fours from The Family Confectioner. We sat at a table in the corner with the delicacies and I quite forgot to speak as I devoured my share of the little cakes and tarts.