“You don’t trust your sister?” he murmured. Did she know something he didn’t?
“It’s not that.” She looked troubled. “These women are our friends. It’s painful, asking you to spy on them. I don’t want this weighing on Beatrix—she would see it as an invasion of privacy, I think.”
Yes. Especially considering that he’d put her through it already. He would have to do everything he could to keep this assignment to himself, dreamside.
Miss Harper rose. He got up from his seat to see her out.
“Omnimancer,” she said, pausing at the front door, “you must let me try to even the scales. Surely there’s something we could do?”
Well, Miss Harper, perhaps you could talk your sister into loving me. Or figure out how to neutralize the weapon I made—how about that?
No sooner had that bitter joke crossed his mind than a realization hit him like a thunderclap: Therewasanother way to ensure Project 96 would never be used. Major political change. Exactly the sort of change the League had a chance, small but real, to get.
Lydia Harper was his Plan B. He had never thought of it that way before. She might, in fact, be his only hope.
“Succeed,” he told her. “Just succeed.”
CHAPTER 11
“Miss Harper!”
Beatrix and Lydia, walking out of church with Rosemarie and Ella, turned in unison. State Sen. Mitchell Gray strode toward them, an unexpected sight given that his own church was five miles away. He wore a trilby hat and coat the color of his name, his expression grave.
“I’m glad I caught you,” he said. “Can we talk?”
“Yes,” Lydia said. “Here?”
He shook his head. “Somewhere private.”
Lydia glanced at Beatrix, her dilemma obvious. Where?
“The omnimancer’s mansion,” Beatrix said.
“What?” Gray fell back a step.“No.”
This was a man who’d enthusiastically welcomed Peter to town. A chill went down Beatrix’s spine. She stepped closerto Gray and murmured, “Do you have a problem with Wizard Blackwell, Senator?”
“Well …”
“Or is it with wizards in general?”
He hesitated, then nodded.
“It would be the best place to go,” Lydia whispered. “I promise.”
He looked as if he wanted to argue the point, but he stuffed his hands in his coat pockets and said, “Fine.”
Soon after, they were sitting in Peter’s receiving room. He leaned against his desk. “What’s going on?”
Gray turned to Lydia. “Why exactly should I trust him?”
“Hey,” Peter said, voice sharp, “why should we trustyou?You told me Miss Harper would undermine me at every opportunity because she’s in the League.”
“I was just trying to?—”
“Gentlemen,” Lydia said, the fire and brimstone she usually reserved for speeches seeping in.
Peter had heard one of those speeches before. Gray, apparently, had not. He looked like a man thrown off his train of thought headfirst. Beatrix, who was not especially fond of the man, bit her lip to hold back a grin.
