“She’sreallygood at this,” Beatrix murmured, both because it was true and because she liked the effect it always had on Martinelli. He beamed and launched into the lateststory of his wife’s omnimancing prowess, this time involving a basement stairwell and Mayor Croft’s trick knee.
“And she cast the spell so fast she cushioned his fall!” Martinelli shook his head fondly. “Whole thing happened before I’d even gotten a leaf out of my pocket. Hate to think of the consequences if she hadn’t been there. Oh—before I forget, take a gander at this. I’m hoping it’ll do something about the damn potato bugs—the usual spells just aren’t that effective.”
Peter caught Beatrix’s eye. He was wearing an irresistible smile, and she knew just what he was thinking. There was something hilarious (and wonderful) about this man, who once couldn’t fathom why anyone would want to omnimance, taking such joy in doing it. Peter turned the piece of paper Martinelli proffered so she could look at it, too, but as it was a series of spellwords rather than a brew, he had the far higher likelihood of success.
“That’s intriguing,” he murmured. “How are you testing it?”
“Well, that’s the thing—I don’t want to try it on someone’s farm and find out it ruins the soil or something, so I’m rigging up a potato-bug terrarium…”
The current and former omnimancers of Ellicott Mills talked shop with their mouths full and their heads together, one with a thinning silver queue and the other with short hair the color of dark chocolate. She watched them as she ate her sandwich, mind wandering to her own project until the phrase “human trials” brought her back.
“Sorry?” she said.
“You’re ready?” Martinelli asked. “You’re starting them?”
“Well—ready to start recruiting,” she said. “That could take a while.”
Peter grinned at Martinelli. “Joan offered to help. Ask her about her strategy at dinner tomorrow, and you’ll see why I’m not worried.”
“Congratulations!You must be so excited,” Martinelli said to Beatrix, then raised his eyebrows as she groaned. “What? Wrong thing to say?”
Peter aimed a knowing look at her. “She’s the sort of researcher who absolutely hates to count her eggs before they hatch.”
“Or more to the point,” she murmured, “before I know how many in the latest round avoided fertilization.”
Both men laughed, Peter quietly, Martinelli noisily.
“Um, pardon me … Omnimancer?”
The man standing awkwardly before their table, it transpired, had driven from the farthest reaches of the Martinellis’ tri-county territory. His wife was waiting in the car with their toddler, who had a bad case of the croup their doctor said would require a witch or wizard’s intervention.
“Go on,” Peter said, sliding out of the booth to make way for Martinelli. “Remember, dinner at our place tomorrow.”
“Knight coming this time?” Martinelli asked as he got out. “And Hillier?”
“Yes, both of them,” Beatrix called after him as he hurried off.
Peter sat down, this time on her side of the table.
“Do you still miss it?” she asked softly. “Omnimancing?”
“Yes,” he said. “But also, bluntly, no. Behold: I will finish my sandwich and …no one will interrupt. No matter how slowly I eat.”
She snorted. “A wondrous feat indeed.”
“Just to be absolutely clear,” he said after he swallowed his very slowly eaten bite. “What we’re doing now—I wouldn’t trade it for anything. Not a single thing.”
He didn’t have to say “not even for magic.” She knew that was what he meant. Heart full, she leaned in and kissed him.
“Mm, Dr. Blackwell,” he said against her cheek, “someone might see.”
“Well then, other Dr. Blackwell, hurry up and finish your dinner so we can go somewhere more private.”
His chest twitched in silent laughter. “That’s what I want everyone to call me. ‘Other Dr. Blackwell.’”
“Sorry about that!” Mae bustled back, looking cheerful, cheeks rosy from the cold. “Oh, did Tim get called off?”
“Case of the croup,” Beatrix said.
