A Poison Dark and Drowning (Kingdom on Fire #2)(44)

“Your aunt needed something to tell you when you were a little girl.” He wiped his brow. “William left your mother before you were born. He never came back, and I don’t know what happened to him. There’s the truth.”

I’d expected many things, but I hadn’t expected that.

What was he saying? That my father could be walking around out in the world somewhere, right now? That he’d abandoned me?

“It’s not true,” I said softly. Mickelmas pursed his lips.

“It didn’t seem fair to keep you ignorant about that.”

I kept thinking of that painting in the bar. The young man’s face—my father’s face—had looked so like mine.

“Do you think he’s still alive?” I asked numbly.

“I’ve no idea,” he replied.

I hadn’t known I’d feel pain at this. My hands stopped burning.

“I’m sorry,” Mickelmas said, looking away. “At the time I didn’t think I’d see you again. I felt you ought to know the truth. Stupid idea.”

What had I wanted? Some tragic tale or wild explanation? I was a fool.

“That’s enough now.” Maria stalked out of the pub. That warm, rich, womanly tone was back in her voice. Willie had reemerged. “Don’t upset the girl.”

“Who is this red-haired person?” Mickelmas looked her in the eyes and froze. His whole expression shifted to something unreadable. “Have we met before?”

Maria shook her head, curls tumbling in her face. “No. I’d remember the pleasure,” she mumbled.

“Go home,” Mickelmas said, turning back to me. “When the time’s right, we’ll come for you.”

“But I need your help now.” I unsheathed the tiny dagger from my left wrist, the one weapon I’d brought. He accepted it gingerly, his expression clearing as he held it up. I could tell that he recognized it.

“Where did you get this?” He swiped it once through the air, twisting his wrist in such a way that the blade sparked in the sunlight. Bloody hell, he seemed to know what he was doing.

“We found it in Ralph Strangewayes’s house,” I said.

At that, he paused. “Tell me everything.” While I spoke, he continued to study the blade. Finally, he shook his head. “I don’t know about this.”

“You don’t think they’ll work?” My heart sank. He handed the blade back, hilt first.

“No, they will. But these are weapons forged from another world.” He sniffed. “They’re crafted to use against monsters, by monsters.”

“I’ll take the risk. Can you teach us?” Getting the others on board with this plan, particularly Blackwood, might prove difficult. But the idea of learning from Mickelmas again was strangely comforting. I’d missed our lessons in Ha’penny Row.

He hesitated. “The sorcerers will never agree to this.”

“They’ve already shut me down. I only need to prove to them that the weapons work,” I said.

He smiled a little. “You can’t seem to stay out of trouble, can you?”

“You’re saying yes?” Relief flooded through me.

“I’ll never pass up an opportunity to make your great Order acknowledge magician superiority.” He pulled at his beard. “When do we begin?”

—

THAT EVENING, I SUMMONED MY LITTLE “unit” to Blackwood’s house, after Magnus had finished his patrol of the barrier. Maria and I waited in the southernmost parlor, the one filled with Chinese pottery and tapestry. Fiddling with the plain gold locket about my neck, I smiled as Magnus and Dee entered, Blackwood behind them. A footman waited by the door. Oh dear, that wouldn’t do.

“Can we be alone?” I asked. Blackwood looked confused but dismissed the servant.

“I’ll keep watch,” Maria whispered, and ducked out. It was only the four of us now, the boys and I.

“I’m not going to like this, am I?” Blackwood muttered, coming to stand beside me with a weary expression. He frowned. “Where’d you get that locket?”

“It was the best way to make him comfortable,” I said, fingering the golden clasp.

“Keep who comfortable?” Magnus reclined on a sofa, hands behind his head.

I slipped the locket off and opened it. Mickelmas exploded out and somersaulted across the floor. Blackwood leaped back, and Dee nearly fell off the sofa. Getting to his feet, Mickelmas turned his head side to side, popping his bones.

“Still not the most comfortable escort I’ve ever had,” he said.

Magnus jumped to his feet, knocking a china tiger off the table beside him. It shattered into pieces on the carpet, a curling tail here, an ocher eye there.

Blackwood looked like a life-sized, bewildered statue himself.

“I remember there being more of you the last time,” Mickelmas said to the boys. Noticing the smashed tiger, he waved his hand, murmured, and in a flash the porcelain creature was reassembled and standing atop the table. With a wry smile, Mickelmas wiggled his fingers in another spell, and the tiny creature came to life. It paced from one end of the table to the other, giving miniature roars, its striped tail lashing. Dee made a wondering noise and poked at the little beast. It bit him.

Mickelmas sat down on the sofa. Fluffing his coat, he plumped a pillow and leaned back. “Much more comfortable. Now then. Who’s ready for a little magic?”