The Glamourist (The Vine Witch #2)(52)
Her kind?
The drug hit his bloodstream quick. His eyes took on a menacing sheen as he scrutinized her a second time, paying close attention to the aura space above her head. He put the tin away and snapped his fingers. A blaze of light shone down on her from the palm of his hand. “So, was it the vine witch who removed the scar?” he asked, aiming the light at her jaw.
Jiminy, how long had they been watching her? Did they know about Alexandre too? She was deep in the shit, but she was going to have to keep paddling. Yvette nodded, pretending it was a great cost to admit. “Yes, it was Elena who figured it out. She’s the smartest witch I know.”
The man scoffed. “Do remind me to send her a thank-you note. Removing the étouffer has only made my work that much easier. You should be flattered by such loyalty. Even I was surprised by how far Mademoiselle Boureanu was willing to go to protect you. But of course, that’s the flaw of the virtuous. You can always rely on them to do the right thing.”
“You’re mad,” she said, but at least he didn’t know about Alexandre or he would have called her bluff about the removal spell.
“If self-preservation is a madness, I confess my guilt. Now, one more time. Where is the book?”
“Why are you doing this?” she yelled. “It’s just a book my mother made me. It doesn’t mean anything to you.”
“My dear girl, it means everything to me,” he said. He nodded to the flunky. “Find out where she hid it.” Then he snapped his fingers and used the light that formed in his palm to guide him out of the maze, leaving her alone with the man in the flat cap as he grinned and swung the iron hoop toward her.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Elena and Henri had returned to Le Maison Chavirée, where they waited in uncomfortable silence for the inevitable tap at the door. When at last the sound came, Elena eagerly answered.
“Alexandre, thank the All Knowing you got my message.”
“Good heavens, people actually live in this bohemian flophouse?” He wiped his shoes off on the carpet in the hall, then entered the squalid apartment where Yvette had been hiding the last three days. He poked the tip of his birchwood cane against the stove and it came alive with a cozy fire. “It’s a good thing you sent the dove when you did. I had just enough time to put a protection spell around the shop before I left.”
“I still don’t know where they’ve taken Yvette, but apparently it’s the book they really want,” Elena said.
The old witch removed his black derby hat and nodded at Henri, who stood in the corner staring wide-eyed at the flames in the stove. “You must be the young man assisting in this mischief.”
“Uh, how?” Henri merely pointed at the stove.
Alexandre’s eyebrow quirked. “It’s only a fire, boy.”
“Right. Perfectly normal.”
“Were you able to learn anything more about the writing in the book?” Elena asked. “It’s likely only a matter of time before they figure out we have the blasted thing.”
“Ah, yes.” Alexandre retrieved a folded piece of paper from his left breast pocket. “Something interesting finally revealed itself.”
“What? What is it?”
“I had a look through the clarinet, and it appears the symbols themselves tell a small but perhaps important tale.” He paused to acknowledge Henri’s obvious confusion. “It simply functions like a microscope, my boy,” he said, waving his hand to encourage the young man to go along with the anomaly. “The paint used in the book contains traces of pure gold, as we suspected. But there’s also evidence of citrine and quartz!” he said in triumph. “And a bit of marula oil mixed in with the pigments.”
Elena shook her head waiting for the translation. “Which means?”
“Wait, did you say gold and quartz?” Henri asked. “But that was Tulane’s preferred mixture. He’s famous for it.”
“Is he? Perhaps the process has become common, then. Nonetheless, the paint used on the book’s pages proved unsurprisingly enchanted. Which, I presume, is the function of the crystals.”
“Christ, is everyone around here a witch?”
“You’d be surprised,” Elena said as Alexandre spread his paper out on the rickety table. “Were you able to determine the spell?”
“Oh, yes. A common concealment charm.”
“But I tried to make the symbols reveal themselves to me and they didn’t respond.”
“Or perhaps they did and you simply didn’t notice.” Alexandre tapped on the paper. “I didn’t want to risk carrying the book on my person, but I managed to copy a single page using a mirror spell. The code is backwards so it’s of little use for transcription. However . . .” He pointed to the first line highlighted in gold. “Beneath the concealment the symbols appear nearly identical to how they originally presented themselves. Only now take a gander at them using a magnifying glass.” Alexandre patted his pockets until he found the glass cake knife he’d brought with him.
“Another piece of dodgy merchandise from the shop?” Elena took the knife with a sigh and held the blade over the symbols. To her amazement, the lines of the symbols weren’t solid veins of paint at all. Under magnification they appeared as strings of smaller symbols, possibly sentences, but so small the human eye could never read them. Most were vine-like in shape, with romantic flourishes ending in curlicues. The way the text interwove in places reminded her of intricate metal filigree work. Alas, though beautiful, whatever message they contained remained just as unreadable to Elena as it had before.