The casing shattered.
Charlotte instinctively moved her hand back from the explosion of glass. A mere moment later she was reaching for the amulet—but a delicate, lace-gloved hand got there before her.
“Thank you most kindly,” Cecilia Bassingthwaite said, snatching up the disk. With a brief, polite nod, she turned, stepped over the dazed guard, and began to hasten toward the doorway.
Shock clouded Charlotte’s senses momentarily before being split by a lightning bolt of absolute fury. She threw words at the pirate. Cecilia stumbled, and the amulet floated out of her grasp. Catching it again, she hoisted her skirts and ran on. Charlotte took up the chase.
“The amulet!” someone shouted in belated realization.
Eugenia Cuttle-Plim barreled past several people to grab Cecilia’s arm. The pirate spun about, her other arm rising in self-defense, butEugenia shouted a phrase of the incantation in her face. Cecilia reared back (less from the witchery than the fact Eugenia had eaten fried onions for breakfast) and Mrs. Chuke’s maid neatly stole the amulet from her, then handed it to Mrs. Chuke. But before the woman could take even a step, Miss Habersham, a young witch dressed in layers of frantic white ruffles, pushed the maid aside, kicked Mrs. Chuke hard in the shin, and grabbed the amulet from her before darting away.
Charlotte strode through the crowd, incantating people out of her path. She’d stolen that amulet fair and square, and under any code (except the actual code of law, of course) it rightly belonged to her! As anger blazed in her throat, the unimpeachable rule about no overt public magic burned away—much like she herself would do if she was caught and prosecuted for witchcraft, but she did not stop to consider that. With one rapid phrase, she elevated herself several feet off the ground and leaped for Miss Habersham.
She landed a moment too late. Alex O’Riley had got there first. He picked up the beruffled witch and swung her around so her lower half collided with Charlotte’s midriff. It was like being hit with a cream pie, only with knees inside. Charlotte staggered back, and Miss Habersham said a word that was not magical but certainly witchy. Alex laughed. Removing the amulet from her possession, he dropped her, and she bounced up off her bustle to crash again into Charlotte.
“Stop, thief!” Charlotte shouted with helpless fury, trying to divest herself of Miss Habersham so as to pursue the fiendish pirate. Alex did not pause, but he threw something over his shoulder at her. Miss Habersham ducked; Charlotte caught the item automatically, then scowled at its familiar leather surface.
“Devil,” she muttered, tossing the briefcase aside. It crashed into a bust of Euterpe, causing a cacophony of disharmonic noises that ironically reached their crescendo as the marble bust met the floor.Charlotte extricated herself from Miss Habersham’s ruffles, but it was too late; Alex dashed out through the doorway—
And fell flat on his face as a booted leg came out to trip him.
“Sorry, old chap,” Ned Lightbourne said languidly, bending down to take the amulet from Alex’s hand. Straightening, he turned to leave—
And got whacked in the face by a large pink purse.
“Take that, Master Luxe!”
“Constantinopla,” Ned groaned, staggering back.
The pirate girl whirled to dramatic but purposeless effect, punched him in the gut, and snatched the amulet. “How’s that for a dance move?” she said, and fled across the entrance hall with pirates and witches in hot pursuit.
Charlotte spun Miss Habersham away, shoved Miss Gloughenbury, and winced as someone yanked the hat from her head in an effort to slow her down. Farther across the hall, Cecilia Bassingthwaite leaped over the ticket counter and deftly kicked the amulet from Constantinopla’s grasp. It sailed high into the air, flashing brightly, and the crowd staggered to a halt, all eyes lifting to watch its progress.
At that breathless moment, a young man wandered into the museum, hands in his pockets, hat tilted jovially to one side.
“What’s up?” he said to the general assembly.
“Tom!” cried Constantinopla. “Catch it!”
Tom’s eyes widened as he saw the amulet falling toward him. He reached out both hands almost mindlessly, and his entire body jolted with surprise as the treasure smacked into his palms. He stared at it.
“Run, Tom!” Constantinopla shouted. “Run!”
Tom spun about obediently and legged it back outside. As he raced down the museum steps and onto the forecourt, he glanced back at the crowd following him.
And thus it was he failed to see the tall, narrow house lowering itself before him. Nor did he notice its red door opening.
“Tom!” Constantinopla called out in a high, frantic voice. “It’s Lady Armitage!”
But the warning came too late. Tom ran into the house and its door slammed shut.
Pirates and witches alike stood on the museum steps, staring in shock as the house most synonymous with true piratic horror rose from the forecourt and flew away, bearing with it Beryl’s amulet (and Tom Eames).
6
hot pursuit—the butler wouldn’t do it—an unwelcome sight—charlotte is not a spider—hot circling—the weaponizing of tea—charlotte makes a mess—when one door closes—alex surrenders
The society of pirates entertained itself now and then with sending a few dozen women to air in houses fit to be employed in battle. Townhouses, mansions, a small castle or two—they made a brave sight when gathered (which is to say, a person had to be brave to stand still and behold them rather than run away screaming). Alex O’Riley’s house, however, was generally agreed to be an eyesore. Never mind that it was also the fastest in the skies; a true pirate had consideration for appearances. He ought at least to whitewash the walls, fix the chimney, and submit to the superior opinion of the Wisteria Society on all matters since they really only had his best interests at heart.
