“It felt softer than the sort of magic people make. Like the air on a really cold, dark night. That sort of cold, crispness that sort of burns. It felt still, limitless but not foreboding.”
Agatha and Felipe shared a glance, so Oliver cleared his throat. “It did feel more like what I’ve encountered in the archives than the magic I’ve smelled from people.”
“That’s a good thing, right?”
Oliver wrinkled his nose. “Not necessarily.”
Before Agatha could respond, Felipe smiled and took the papers from her hand. “Don’t worry about a thing. Oliver and I will take care of all this. I’m sure it was just an overzealous collector trying to get their hands on a rare alchemy book. Why don’t you see if Louisa is back? Oliver and I will walk you home soon.”
Looking unconvinced but tired, Agatha nodded and left. The moment the door closed, Felipe’s attention whipped to Oliver so fast and intensely that it startled him.
“What the hell was the priest doing here? How the hell did he know where my family’s gallery is?” he said in a harsh whisper.
“Maybe he didn’t know. It’s in Agatha’s name, not Louisa’s. Perhaps the plan all along was to steal the book, but we spooked him when we came to visit this morning.”
“But how did he know about it?”
“Perhaps he saw the article in the paper or he’s in contact with the art dealer in Italy who sent the book to Agatha. They could have let Father Gareth know it was coming and where to find it.”
“Why not send it to him directly?”
Oliver shrugged. “The rules regarding magical objects are stricter in Europe, aren’t they? We should get this art dealer’s name from Agatha.”
Digging through the file Agatha left on the desk, Felipe pulled out a letter and jotted the name and address onto the file she had given them. “Sandro Albizzi. Tomorrow, I’ll see if I can send a telegram to whatever constitutes a paranormal society in Italy.”
“Are there any? I would imagine the Catholic Church’s influence is strong there.”
“I’m sure there are. They might just be more covert. More and more Italians are immigrating. I know I’ve seen a name or two pop up with Reynard’s shifter union project.”
“Tomorrow, we should ask him if he got the chance to show anyone that letter we found in Sister Mary Agnes’s pocket. His union meetings are usually on Saturday or Sunday afternoons.”
Felipe nodded slowly. Sitting on the edge of the desk, he released a tired sigh and ran a hand over his face. “What I don’t understand is, why the priest didn’t just kill the guard? That’s what most thieves would do. We know he’s working with the strangler, so why not send them instead?”
“While I doubt he is against killing after this morning’s demonstration, he probably hoped no one would notice the theft until tomorrow morning. He compelled Mr. McCallister to let him in, ordered him into the cloakroom, stole the keys, took what he wanted, and tidied up behind him. That makes me think he had hoped it would take a while for people to notice the book was gone. I mean, would Agatha have noticed the missing book if she wasn’t looking for it?”
“I don’t think she walks the entire gallery every day, so no, probably not. He must have been banking on McCallister coming to and not remembering he let someone in.”
“Or maybe McCallister came to before he was ready,” Oliver replied, picturing the keys lying on the floor by the desk. “It’s like he opened the door and tossed the keys at the desk.”
“That’s certainly a possibility. Well, I think it’s time to walk Agatha and Louisa home and warn them not to open the door for anyone. After, we could get a steamer from the society and drive out to the West Bronx.”
“While not knowing what the book does and with no help? Is that really a wise decision?”
Deflating, Felipe stood up from the desk and tapped the file against his hand. “Probably not. And I don’t think your sniff test would hold up to the head inspector. Tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow.”
With a small smile, Felipe leaned closer and drew Oliver in for a kiss. It was quick, but the grip of Felipe’s hand on his arm and slip of tongue against his lip spoke to the promise of more later. Heat rose in Oliver’s cheeks at the warmth in the other man’s gaze as he tidied his scarf and nodded for him to come. Following Felipe out of the office, Oliver drew in a tight breath and counted the tomorrows they had left.
