‘I haven’t even decided if I’ll take this case, Uncle. And if I do, I will work alone.’ Uncle Lachlan must have taken leave of his senses. Clio wished she could use her magic to read his thoughts, but that was Cousin Helena’s speciality. Clio could only communicate with the dead. If she had her way, Uncle Lachlan might soon be joining that group. Maybe then she could determine what he was up to with this foolishness. ‘We both know a partner will only hinder my progress.’ She couldn’t very well tap into her magical abilities if some hulking beast of a man was watching her. She glanced over at Lieutenant General Grey, and just as she expected, his gaze seared through her.
‘I promised to help you on this case, but I never promised to work with someone else. And certainly not a woman.’ Lieutenant General Grey didn’t look away from Clio, though his words were directed at Uncle Lachlan.
‘Bastard!’ Sir Robin interjected with an aggressive caw.
Lieutenant General Grey shifted his glare to the bird. ‘Or her foul-mouthed pet.’
Clio desperately wanted to point out his pun, but she feared that would not improve the situation.
The lieutenant general continued, oblivious to his unintended wittiness. ‘What help could a silly girl and her ridiculous bird possibly give me?’ Disdain dripped from every growled syllable.
Oh, that does beat all. First, he won’t work with me because I’m a woman. Now, he’s demoted me to a mere girl.
Sir Robin Goodfellow flapped back onto Clio’s shoulder, sensing she needed his feathered support. Lieutenant General Grey dismissed them both with one blink and returned his focus to Uncle Lachlan.
Sparks tingled on her fingers. She fisted her hand and forced her power to settle.
‘I’m hardly a girl, Lieutenant General. Perhaps your objection stems from fear of being outsmarted by a woman. Theonlything you’re right about.’ Flame in the glass bulbs flared.
Uncle Lachlan gave her a warning glance, his message clear.
Remain calm.
She always had trouble regulating her power over fire when her anger was stoked. Gas-lit flames could be particularly dangerous with such a combustible, hungry fuel.
‘We don’t have time for arguments.’ Uncle Lachlan’s quiet voice commanded their attention more effectively than any shout. ‘Viscount Beachley’s wife is missing. She’s our top suspect, and we need to find her quickly. This has already hit the newspapers, and it doesna’ look good for Scotland Yard, or for yer dear Uncle Lachlan to have a potential murderess running loose on the streets of London.’ Gone was the cheerful uncle who used to sneak Clio sweets when her aunt wasn’t looking. In his place was the fearsomeSuperintendent MacDougal, who had fought his way from lowly constable to superintendent of district C. One did not argue with Superintendent MacDougal. At least, not publicly.
‘Exactly. All the more reason to send thisgirland her bird back to the playroom and allow me to get on with the investigation.’
I’d like to see you investigate anything with your trousers in a blaze.
Uncle Lachlan stepped between them, forestalling the insult burning on her tongue. ‘I am confident you’ll find her skills far superior to most.’ He wasn’t suggesting this to Lieutenant General Grey; he was telling him.
Before Clio could gloat, her uncle turned to face her. ‘And you will find that Lieutenant General Grey’s abilities only enhance yer own.’
She bit her lip to contain her retort. It wasn’t wise to be impertinent when Uncle Lachlan used that tone.
He looked from Clio to Lieutenant General Grey and back again. ‘You will work together on this case, and you will solve it together.’
We’ll just see about that.
‘May I speak with you privately, Uncle?’ Clio spat each word at him like bullets as the heat of power rose in her blood, coalescing in her chest where it burned like a coal. It would only take a flash of intent to turn that coal into a searing flame. She refused to look at Lieutenant General Grey. His scowling face would be the spark to set her temper ablaze.
Must not call forth the fire and blast Mr Big-and-Surly into ash.
Even if Uncle Lachlan hadn’t been there to remind her, Clio would never harm another. As a family coven of white witches, Clio, Eleanor, Helena, and Aunt Rowan had all taken a blood oath to do no harm. Even if Clio wanted to wield her power and smite her enemies, it wouldn’t work without twisting her into a dark, fragmented version of herself. It was a line she would never cross. Butsometimes, it seemed asmallamount of smiting should be allowed. In special circumstances. Like her present one.
Uncle Lachlan exhaled through his nose, his jaw muscles jumping. He nodded. ‘Excuse us, Lieutenant General Grey. We won’t be but a moment.’
Walking past Clio, Uncle Lachlan strode down the corridor to a door on his left. She refused to acknowledge Lieutenant General Grey as she turned and followed her uncle, Sir Robin balancing effortlessly on her shoulder.
2
When Uncle Lachlan held the door open for Clio, she peered into a parlour that, were the day less dreary, would have been lit beautifully from the tall windows gracing the far wall. But the sky outside was battling dark storm clouds, and the gas lighting was losing its fight with the deep shadows claiming the room. Sir Robin clacked his beak in a nervous warning. Clio shivered as she stepped across the threshold.
‘Go on, then, Clio. Say what yer thinking.’ Uncle Lachlan shut the door behind them. As it clicked closed, Clio pushed aside her disquiet and let the rage bubble over.
‘How can I possibly help you with this case if some idiot lieutenant general is watching my every move? You are putting me in an impossible situation, Uncle Lachlan. Witchcraft might not be illegal any more, but that’s only because people believe anyone claiming to wield magic is lying. I’ve no interest in proving how real magic still is when this blackguard sees me conversing with a dead man.’
