“Hello, miss,” he said with a smile.
“Don’t hello me,” she replied in that tetchy way she had, the one that warned you she was about to take your heart and shake it up, straighten it properly, then give it back to you like a gift. Before he met her, Daniel had never known it was possible to be so badgered you came to adore someone out of sheer self-defense. He’d kill for Charlotte Pettifer, not the least because she’d made Alex happy.
“Idiot,” she said. Then she turned to her husband. “You too.” She flicked a peremptory finger back and forth between the men. “Put those guns down and hug each other.”
Daniel and Alex shared an appalled glance. “I’m not hugging him,” Alex muttered, holstering the gun alongside another on his belt.
“I do not hug,” Daniel said as he returned his own gun to an inner pocket. “Besides, I saw you only two weeks ago. An effusive reunion is unnecessary.”
“It may have been two weeks for you,” Charlotte said, “but it has been fourteen long days of washing our own dishes for us.” She smiled at him then. Alex, muttering under his breath, offered a hand, and Daniel automatically shook it. All the while, his brain ran around shouting urgent orders and waving red flags, trying to forestall an eruption of emotion he absolutely could not afford. Alex and Lottie represented an old assignment, nothing more.
And his heart, sighing in defeat, packed up all its wild and hungry longings and went to hide under a blanket.
“Why are you here?” he asked. “I mean, obviously you have come for the weapon. But the captain should have done this job alone, Miss Pettifer. The castle is full of pirates. If they catch a witch—”
Charlotte shrugged. “I am not afraid.”
Daniel glanced at Alex, who was rolling his eyes.
“You should be,” Daniel said sternly. “The feud between the Wisteria Society and the Wicken League is no laughing matter.”
“Actually,” Alex said, “I found myself in hysterics last week when I saw Bloodhound Bess and the witch Mrs. Chuke fighting over the only ripe pomegranate in a greengrocer’s stall. Mrs. Chuke sent all the fruit flying, then Bess sent the stall itself flying, and—”
“Nevertheless,”Daniel interjected. “If the pirates discover Miss Pettifer’s presence, she may be in danger.” He looked solemnly at Charlotte. “Your marriage to the captain notwithstanding, miss, the ladies are in a rambunctious mood, and might use the feud as an excuse to have fun at your cost.”
“The auguries predict otherwise,” Charlotte said offhandedly—an assurance that failed to impress Daniel, since not only did he not believe in auguries, but he suspected Charlotte didn’t either. “Besides,”she continued, “we are keeping out of sight. Attics, all the usual secret passageways, et cetera. We could not overlook the opportunity this weapon affords.”
“I hear it has the firepower of two dozen cannons,” Alex said, grinning like an excited boy.
“We could blow up half of Parliament,” Charlotte added in a more businesslike manner, “and use the rubble to build schools for impoverished children.” Her expression shadowed suddenly; stepping forward, she reached out and would have touched Daniel’s ear had he not flinched back. “You’re wearing an earring. And a wedding ring. What exactly have you been doing this past fortnight, Bixby?”
At that fortuitous moment, a voice called from the night beyond.
“Let me in! Let me in!”
Turning, Daniel was astonished to see Alice’s pallid face floating behind the window’s lace curtain like a wild and lonely specter roaming the darkness in search of her soul’s master. He strode across and, pulling aside the curtain, discovered her bobbing awkwardly in the air.
“Mrs. Blakeney!” he said with stern disapproval. “What are you doing?”
“Trying not to die,” she replied. “This is an old petticoat; its incantation is faded. I can’t seem to maneuver. Would you do me a small favor, if you have a moment, and save me from plummeting to my doom far below?”
Taking her arm, Daniel hauled her through the open window. They stumbled against each other, and as Alice clutched his arms to stay upright, Daniel felt a tightening within him. The intensity of it almost caused him to push her out the window in a trained reflex he only just restrained. Instead, he stepped back abruptly in the same moment she did also, snatching her hands away from him.
“What happened?” he asked.
“A severe operational deficiency, that is what happened,” sheretorted. “Why did the dossier not include mention of a tiger? Hm? Answer me that, sir. One would assume something as significant as a tiger would be mentioned, even if only in a footnote. I will most certainly be adding this to my—”
She stopped, staring past him to where Alex and Charlotte were watching the scene with amusement. “Egads, it’s the mad people!” she exclaimed in recognition—and then flushed as she realized she’d just broken her cover.
But it was too late in any case. As Daniel turned, he saw an answering recognition in Charlotte’s eyes. Trust a witch to recognize a woman she last saw a year ago, when Alice had been working undercover with the Wicken League. No doubt Alice could have disguised herself as a scantily dressed, gold-haired opera singer (he paused to envision it) and Charlotte would still know her. The witch might have made a good A.U.N.T. agent were she not an unrepentant enemy of the state whom one day Daniel might be ordered to assassinate.
“Miss Dearlove,” she said languidly, her voice rich with the promise of magic. “The last time we met you were clambering through a window too.”
“I was not,” Alice said, affronted.
“I beg to insist that I remember the occasion quite clearly.”
“There was indeed a window,” Alice agreed. “But I did not clamber through it. I never clamber. It is entirely indecorous. Except, that is, when a tiger is about to consume me.” She glared at Daniel as if near ingestion by wild cat was his fault. He stared back at her implacably, never mind the tumult of his pulse as he met her dark, glimmering gaze. (Really, as soon as this mission was over he ought to get a medical checkup.)
