She spent the first part of her walk home buoyed by overwhelming relief. But the reason for Gray’s decision to help began to eat at her. It seemed implausible that there wasn’t an unstated, obvious one hiding behind the explanation he’d given. And the more she thought about the plan he’d laid out, the less overjoyed she felt about it. An unneeded secretary, that was what she would be. Meanwhile, he would have none of the day-to-day help he required for the uphill battle to repeal the Twenty-fifth.
She slipped into her house, unseen except by the invisible tele-vision camera the magiocracy had pointed at the door, and ducked into the study to look at train maps so she could plan her route to work. And that, too, was a letdown.
She would have to take the B&O almost to Baltimore, then catch the B&A. And because the magiocracy had not gotten around to repairing the track from Annapolis to Washington, which apparently required money instead of magic, she would have to retrace her steps to get to Peter. She’d be lucky if she saw him an hour a day.
If the magic she was trying to infuse him with every time she held his hand really would bring him out of his coma, if only she gave him enough of it, then she needed to spend more time with him, not less. That assumed, of course, that the life energy the weapon stole was the same as magical potential, as Peter once hypothesized. And that magical potential was the same as magic itself.Andthat she could transfer raw magic from her body to his.
This was the muddy puddle’s worth of hope she was left with, full of ifs and assumptions. Still, that puddle was all she had.
Could she move Peter to the hospital in Annapolis? Would they agree to take a transfer patient with no apparent way to pay?
She sighed. One thing at a time. She wrote a brief explanation on a piece of paper and went to find her sister, who proved to be sitting on their parents’ bed, looking younger than her nearly twenty-one years with her arms around her legs and her auburn hair hanging unbraided down her back.
Lydia read the note, her face expressing the surprise and joy she could not make audible with the magiocracy listening in.
Oh, Bee!she wrote.This is incredible!
Beatrix nodded, glad she had not included what it would cost her. She didn’t want Lydia to decide she should drop out of college after all.
That’s not to suggest I’m surprised Senator Gray hired you,her sister added.You’ve been so essential to our success.
Beatrix swallowed, blinking back tears. It was still a bit unexpected to hear—or read—such words from her sister, after years of being taken seemingly for granted. They’d used up (and then burned) many pieces of paper in the last few weeks, trying to put their relationship on a better footing.
This was not the easy friendship she’d had with Ella, before the literal explosion. But she and her sisterunderstood each other better now, were both trying harder, and that was a blessing she did not discount.
But what about Mrs. Thomas?Lydia asked, referring to Gray’s secretary.Surely she hasn’t left?
Beatrix took her pen back and wrote a fuller explanation of what had happened. She finished by adding:He’s doing this for you. He wants you to graduate.
She looked closely at Lydia as her sister read these words. Lydia looked surprised, with no blushing cheeks or other sign of romantic attachment.
Still, Beatrix knew better than to assume.Do you have feelings for him?she asked.
Lydia shook her head.We’ve never once talked about anything other than the business at hand. You don’t think he has feelings for me, do you?
Beatrix raised her eyebrows.Unclear, but you’re beautiful and he’s probably not immune. Be careful, she added after a moment’s thought.Some men don’t take no for an answer, and he’s just put you in his debt.
Lydia wrapped an arm around her. With the other, she wrote:He’s not Garrett.
Beatrix closed her eyes. Wizard Theo Garrett, before his death at Ella’s hands, kept coming back after she—Beatrix—turned down his offer of marriage in terms that should have left no doubt about her feelings. Then he discovered her illegally casting spells. She would marry him and testify against Peter, he declared, with prison as the unstated alternative. Later, after the police inaccurately concluded that Garrett was to blame for Peter’s near-death,they told her he’d forged her signature to obtain a marriage license and might have been planning to drug her to get her to the altar. The man he had once seemed to be was not the man he was. Who knew what Gray might do?
Lydia nudged her, and she realized her sister had been writing while she was worrying.You won’t go to work you-know-how—you’ll take the train, right?
Right,Beatrix wrote.
Teleportation, as they’d previously discussed, was out of the question. Too many opportunities to be discovered. There would be no second escape from a prison sentence for felony magic use.
That was a perfectly good reason, but Beatrix had another that she couldn’t bring herself to explain. She never again wanted to work magic that didn’t rely on leaves for fuel. The women-only casting that she and Ella had codenamed “knitting,” no external fuel required, was simply too dangerous. Her skin itched as she thought about it. She felt a scream building in her throat.
She wrote a message about getting ready for bed and escaped the room.
When she lay down later, alarm set an hour and a half earlier than normal, she tried to calm herself. She needed a restful sleep.
But nightmare versions of Ella and Peter invaded her dreams.
“It’s all your fault,” this Peter croaked, blood dripping from his mouth.
“You showed me how to knit,” Ella cried, eyes wild, hair matted, “and look what it’s done to me!”
