“No, I?—”
“Get up.” He hauled her out of the chair. “You read a top-secret document and were effectively trying to steal it by casting a duplicating spell. That’s three separate offenses, Miss Harper—you’ll be in prison for decades.”
Her knees buckled, but his grip on her arm kept her upright.
The contempt in his voice was unmistakable as he added, “I wonder how Lydia Harper’s standing in the Women’s League for the Prohibition of Magic will fare after her sister is arrested for attempting—unsuccessfully, of course—to cast spells.”
“Oh.” Anger flushed out the horrible, weak feeling fueled by fear and guilt. “You set me up to get to Lydia!”
“I did no such thing.”
“You kept leaving me alone with classified books!”
“After expressly warning you not to look at them if you didn’t want to end up behindbars. Listen carefully, because I’m about to offer you a choice.” He let go of her. “You can enter into a magical contract that will prevent you from disobeying a direct order from me ever again, or I’m handing you over to the FBI.”
“What?” she whispered.
“You heard me.”
“I’m not doing that! You could order me to work against the League!”
“You’re going to have to trust me, I suppose,” he said.
She stared at him, adrenaline zinging through her body.
Then she darted around him and out of the room.
No use trying to flee the house—even if by some miracle she escaped, he had ammunition to make life miserably difficult for Lydia. She could see only one way out of his trap.
Blackwell, hot on her heels, caught up with her in the brewing room as she grabbed the bottle of aconite.
“Stay where you are,” she said, “or I’ll drink this.”
He came to a shuddering halt, eyes wide. “Don’t. That’s a terrible way to die.”
“I’m not going to betray my sister.”
“I’m not asking?—”
“Get your hands away from your pockets!” she yelled.
He raised them, palms out, to show they were empty. “Suicide would just make it worse for her.”
“Aconite poisoning looks likemurder, not suicide.” She could barely hear herself over the thudding of her wildly racing heart. “It’s your word against mine about the report, and if I’ve just turned up dead, that undercuts your credibility a bit, don’t you think? Wizards don’t run the police department.”
“Very clever,” he said, “except I’ve got a camera rolling in the other room that recorded everything you did there. Shall I show you the film?”
The words came as such a physical shock that she swayed. Then she managed a bitter laugh. “And you claim you weren’t setting me up.”
“I didn’t claim that. I said I wasn’t setting you up to get to your sister.”
She took a few ragged breaths, trying to figure out what to do.
“I’ll sign your contract,” she said finally, the words heavy as lead on her tongue, “if you sign an equally binding one that promises you will do nothing to harm my sister, the League or her future with it.”
She could tell by the tight line of his mouth that he wanted to say she was in no position to negotiate. But clearly he could see it would be very inconvenient for him, at best, if she ended up dead.
“I’ll do it,” he said. “Put down the blasted aconite.”
