Marlene heard the chime of the clock go off on the mantel more than once, but she ignored it as she carefully perused each and every key that was mentioned in the tome. She was halfway through when there was a knock upon the door. She quickly put the key in her pocket as she called out for the visitor to enter.
It was Amy. She bobbed a respectful curtsy and said, “I’m here to collect the tray and to see if you are wanting any luncheon.”
At this point, Marlene finally dared to glance at the time and found that it was well past noon. She rubbed at her eyes, the strain from her research starting to take its toll. However, she wasn’t about to stop until she had studied all there was to find. “There is no need to put yourself out while Sir Gothry is absent. I think just a few refreshments and some additional tea shall be fine.”
After the requested items were brought and Marlene was closed inside the study once again, she set the key back on the wooden top and continued to look through the book. She had never imagined that there could be so many variations in existence.
As the hours continued to pass, Marlene started to become discouraged. She had spent all day in here, pouring over images that eventually started to blur together until she’d reached the bitter end. Closing the binding, she sat back in the chair with a defeated sigh. She wondered if she might have missed something important without realizing it.
Disheartened, she picked up the key.
It was warm to the touch.
She nearly dropped it, fearing that it would burn her again, but instead, she stared at her palm. As she did, Marlene started to wonder if she could… control the key somehow. Perhaps she could find a way to make it tell her what she was supposed to know.
She leaned forward and dared to whisper, “Show me the way.”
In response, the key started to glow brighter. And then it would dim, as if pulsing with its own sort of energy.
She got up, and using it as a guide, she slowly moved it in a circle about the room. It continued to pulse, but when she reached the door, it remained a steady glow. “I need to leave this room,” she guessed. In reply, it continued to waver.
A strange ringing began to grow in Marlene’s ears, but rather than heed the warning, she asked the key, “Which wing of the estate do you wish me to go?” She paused and said, “South.” No change. “East.” Nothing. “West.” She took a deep breath. “North.” This time it pulsed, letting her know she had made the correct guess.
Clutching it in her palm, she gritted her teeth against the magic burning her skin, and slipped out into the hallway.
Alaric landed on a tall chimney in the midst of Mayfair in the East End with a caw. He waited until a swirl of smoke was sent upward, and then he hopped down into the brick shaft. He landed in the middle of a stately parlor, once again assuming his human form.
“Sir Gothry. What a pleasure to see you again.”
He looked up to find a member of his coven looking at him through a wave of smoke from her cheroot as she lounged on a red settee. If there was anyone who might have perfected the persona of a modern witch, it was Lady Catharine Hornsby.
She had long been a widow and preferred to dress in black, although she had lost no love when her husband perished more than seven years ago. She held a black cat upon her lap, its fur matching her straight, long black hair that flowed down to her waist. She was not more than Alaric’s thirty years of age, and although she had been left very wealthy, she chose to continue to make her home in Piccadilly. She employed very few servants and these were not allowed to remain after supper.
A pile of invitations lay on the silver salver next to her, most unopened and all apparently unanswered as usual.
“Haven’t changed your mind about rejoining society, I see.”
“Hardly.” She snorted. “Luciena and I are more than content to live here together.” She stroked the cat calmly, the candlelight glinting off her long black nails, and he could hear it purr from where he stood. At times, Alaric had wondered if the feline was her lover, but remained in animal form until it was time for them to retire for the night. However, since it wasn’t his business to pry, he had never asked. Some things were best left a mystery, even to him.
“What brings you to our fair city?” she murmured, only a slight curiosity in her tone. “Don’t say our imprudent member has started to give you trouble already?”
“Not me, exactly. At least, not yet.” He lifted a brow and sat down in the chair opposite her. “I believe his maliciousness is directed at someone who has become rather… intriguing to me.”
“Ah.” She spoke to her cat, but her black eyes were on him. “Did you hear that, Luciena? Our High Priest sounds besotted.” She tilted her head to the side. “Who is she? Or perhaps who is he?”
He offered a smirk. “Although I am not against love in any fashion, you know I have always preferred women to men.”
She smiled in a coy manner in return. “I daresay I have as well. All those soft curves. Very difficult to resist.” In reply, the cat on her lap stretched lazily and rolled over so that her belly might be rubbed. “You like that, do you, Luciena? I shall remember to take particular note of that later.” Her gaze flicked back up to Alaric. “I fear my focus wavered, Sir Gothry. Forgive my inattention. You were saying about dear Hector and your lady love?”
Alaric sat back and crossed his arms. “I believe he is manipulating her.”
“For what purpose?” she prodded.
He hesitated, and then said, “To gain possession of the Book. Or rather, someone who has the ability to read the Book.”
Her eyes sharpened. “I see. That would be a very persuasive motive, indeed, if she had the power to do so. But I thought you claimed you never had the Book.”
“I don’t.” He sighed. “At least, not exactly. I believe it is somewhere on my estate, but I cannot say where it might be.”
