Peter stood up, strode past the man and opened the door. There was so much he wanted to say, but less was more at this point. “Good day to you both.”
The reporter left with his sharp smile intact. His photographer cast a look over his shoulder that seemed to convey both an apology and a deep dislike of the man. Peter closed the door and locked it this time.
Hickok crossed her arms. “Is there anythingelseyou’d like to mention? Perhaps you’re planning to run for president with Miss Harper as your VP?”
“If it wasn’t an ongoing investigation, we would have told you about it,” he said, feeling the inadequacy of this response.
“Omnimancer—”
“Why on earth do you think that journalist would disclose his scoop when you’re sitting here with a press badge pinned to your blouse and a notebook in your hands that says ‘REPORTER’ on the cover in all caps?” Beatrix asked.
That, by contrast, was exactly the thing to say. Hickok’s thunderous expression shifted to a bark of laughter. “I’m a woman, that’s why. And he’s no journalist—he’s agossip columnist.”
“Who is he?” Peter asked.
“You don’t read the society pages, do you?”
He and Beatrix both shook their heads.
“A hundred papers carry his dreck—including mine, more’s the pity.” Hickok shook her head. “That was Roger Rydell.”
Peter groaned. He might never have read the man’s column, but even he was aware of Rydell’s reputation.
“Isn’t he the one who writes about Hollywood scandals?” Beatrix said blankly. “Why is he covering us?”
Hickok plucked a copy of that day’s paper from her bag and turned to an inside page. There was the column,Roger Rydell Dishes the Dirt. “‘Sometimes the juiciest stories aren’t in La-La Land. D.C.’s all abuzz about a wizard and hisanti-magic paramour,’” Hickok read. “Etc. etc., and then he signs off, ‘More to come from your correspondent on this salacious story. Much more.’”
“Oh God.” Beatrix’s voice broke. “This circus is never going to end.”
Hickok gave her a pat on the back. Peter couldn’t help noticing that she didn’t argue the point.
“I suppose this is Washington’s response,” he said. “Leak the Garrett story to divert attention from Gray’s legislation.”
“Well,” Hickok said, drawing out the word, “I hear Rydell is in deep with the L.A. police. Feeds them information about people if it’s too hot for him to publish, gets tips in return. I wouldn’t be shocked if he knows somebody who knows somebody in the D.C. police.”
He was inclined to argue, but it could well be true.
Hickok stood. “My deadline’s breathing down my neck, so if there’s nothing else you’re burning to tell me …”
“Wait,” he said, “this is—on background or whatever you call it, but we don’t think Garrett was acting on any sort of orders. He made Beatrix an offer of marriage, she refused, he stalked us. You can report that, if you really want to, but it doesn’t seem like your sort of story.”
“Not even a bit,” Hickok said, tossing her notepad into her bag. “But that’s exactly Rydell’s cup of poison.”
The door clunked shut behind her. He turned to Beatrix, wanting to say so many things and unable to let any of them out. Ten days—God damn it, how could they wait that long?
“Oh,” she murmured, head down, eyes shut. “Oh, oh,oh.”
He sat in the chair next to her, thought of putting his arm around her, considered Miss Dane’s warning, mentally told Miss Dane to stick it, and followed through. Her breath hitched. She looked up, their faces so close he would only need to shift an inch forward to kiss her.
He shifted back instead, sighing. Miss Dane wasn’t wrong—their actions would have a bearing on Lydia’s ability to lead the League and see her strategy through. They had to assume for now that nothing they did would go unnoticed, even in a locked room with no windows.
“It’ll be all right,” he said.
She turned her head away. But she remained pressed against his side until he recollected a minute later that they didn’t have time for this—for this simple act of dealing with a stressful situation. They had to find her sister and bring her up to speed. They would surely need to tell Gray, too. Most of what he really wanted to discuss with Beatrix, on the other hand, had to wait.
Ten days.Ten. Every hour he went without spellcasting was harder than the last.
CHAPTER 10
