Any Way the Wind Blows (Simon Snow, #3)(83)

47

AGATHA

Niamh is with a patient when I walk in.

“Your dad’s next door.” She’s got a three-headed dog squirming on her exam table, and she’s holding her wand over its heads. “Stay!”

All three heads whimper, but the dog stays put.

“I was looking for you,” I say, “but I’ll come back.” Or maybe I won’t.

This is probably a bad idea …

Niamh turns her head. “You were looking for me?”

“Yeah, but I can come back.”

She frowns at me. “Say what you need to say. Nigel doesn’t care.”

“That hellhound’s name is Nigel?”

She pets one of the heads. “You’re a good dog, aren’t you, Nigel?” Nigel jumps when he hears his name, and starts scrabbling off the exam table.

Niamh tries to stop him.

I rush over to help. “Where’s his owner?”

“I asked her to step out,” Niamh says. “She was enabling him.”

I’ve got my arms around the dog’s belly. “Enabling?”

She holds her wand up again. “Nigel, stay! Please!”

The dog settles a little, but he’s still wriggling in my arms. I pat his— their?—flank. “Good boy, Nigel. That’s right.”

“He wouldn’t calm down at all with her in the room,” Niamh says.

“Can you sedate him?”

“I’d rather not for something so simple.” She holds one of the heads with both hands. “Hellhounds don’t respond predictably to meds.”

“Who keeps a hellhound as a pet?”

“You should see what people keep as pets,” she says. All of Nigel’s heads are nuzzling and nipping at her. “Nigel’s sweet. He’s just excitable. Hold him steady…”

I try.

Niamh moves quickly, taking each head in hand, flipping all six of Nigel’s ears to look inside. He doesn’t like it, but Niamh is deft, and she keeps him in hand.

“Ah, there it is,” she says, after a moment. She points her wand in an ear.

“Just a tick!” The dog yelps, and Niamh strokes his face with both hands.

“There you go. All gone now, Nigel. Nothing serious.” He whines, trying to lick her. His other heads are snuffling in her jacket.

“I really think he deserves three names,” I say.

“She’s absolutely right, isn’t she, Nigel?”

Niamh lifts her wand again. “Down, boy!” He hops down. “Heel!” He follows her to the door. She opens it. “Thanks, Agatha. That was perfect timing. Oh—” She looks up. “What were you going to ask me?”

I feel nervous again. “I was just, um … wondering if you were going to Watford again this week.”

“Yeah, I’m going this afternoon.”

“I could come along again.” I shrug. “If you’d like. If you could use a hand.”

Niamh looks surprised. “I could use two.”

“Great,” I say. “Just come and get me.”

Nigel bolts away from her, and Niamh runs after him. The door swings shut between us.





48

SIMON

“He’s an orphan?” Lady Ruth says. She was just about to take a bite of an egg and cress sandwich, but now she’s frowning. “He’s stealing your act, Simon.”

“That’s what I said, Lady Salisbury!” Baz couldn’t be more pleased with himself.

“It’s not an act,” I say. “I am actually an orphan.”

Lady Ruth pats my hand. “Of course you are, dear.”

“Yes,” Baz says, “but even if you weren’t, the Mage still would have told everyone that you were. It’s just too perfect. Oh—” He turns back to Lady Ruth. “Smith-Richards also claims he was born under an eclipse. ”

She rolls her eyes. “Was he trying to convert you or get in your trousers?”

“I mean, ” Baz agrees, eating half a finger sandwich.

“But Jamie wasn’t there?” she asks.

“No,” I say. “Smith seemed excited to introduce us to him, but he wasn’t there. Maybe Jamie got his own flat?”

Lady Ruth frowns, like that isn’t likely. “I tried to track him down again this morning. All my spells are still hitting dead ends. It’s almost like there’s a locked door at the end of my wand. Do you think Jamie got magic, and the first spell he cast was to hide from me?”

“I don’t think so,” I say. “If I got my magic back, I’d be too happy to nurse any grudges.”

Baz looks over at me. He’s got his lips twisted to the side, like he’s thinking. Then he turns to Lady Ruth. “Doesn’t it seem like we should have heard of Smith-Richards before? Or his family?”

She’s refilling his tea. “They don’t have any sort of magickal reputation.

He just appeared one day.”

“Smith-Richards says he was raised by his godfather…”

She shakes her head. “Jamie never mentioned him.”

“We’re going to Watford this afternoon,” I tell her, “to see if we can dig anything up in The Magickal Record. ”