Squee!her heart replied, hugging itself. She could still feel the softness of his kiss against her hand. She wanted more than anything for him to kiss other places on her body. Forehead…cheek…places she dared not name even to herself.
(“Tenure!”her brain shouted, but it could not be heard over the throbbing of those unmentionable places.)
“After we take the swan to safety,” Devon said, “shall we go for coffee to discuss what happened?”
“Uughhgnnngggh,” Beth answered, and was relieved to hear it come out as a calm, casual “All right.” She despised coffee, but that scarcely signified at a time like this.
Her excitement was dashed, however, almost as soon as they entered the cold, white-tiled antechamber of the departmental aviary.
“Professor Gladstone didn’t want the bird after all?” the aviary keeper asked when they presented her with the whopper swan in its blackout bag.
“Professor Gladstone?” they echoed in identical tones of suspicion.
“You must be mistaken,” Beth said. “Professor Gladstone is in the Peak District.”
The aviary keeper shrugged, cradling the swan to her plump bosom as if it were a sad child rather than a deadly magical beast. Behind her, the grimy, glass-paned wall of the aviary seemed to flicker as birds leaped and flew and stalked each other through the trees. Their songs and murderous cries filtered dimly through to the antechamber, and Beth’s brain automatically identified them even as it multitasked itself with wondering if Gladstone was still in Oxford, why he had released the whopper swan, and whether she should order cake along with her coffee during thedateprofessional meeting with Devon.
“His signature was on the request form,” the keeper said as she rocked the swan gently. “The men said he wanted it for a practicum class.” Leaning across her desk, she shuffled with her free hand through a stack of papers until she located the one she wanted. “There,” she said, holding it out.
Taking the form, Beth brought out her spectacles and perused it quickly. “This was filled out several weeks ago.”
“How can you tell?” the keeper asked, wide-eyed.
“Several letters are crooked, and the signature, while true, is more rigid than usual. Professor Gladstone strained his wrist just before the end of term, and it temporarily affected his penmanship.”
The keeper gasped in delighted amazement at such deduction.
“Also, the date written here is June the thirteenth.” She returned the form to the stack, five levels down, from whence the keeper had taken it. “Professor Gladstone obviously prepared it in advance of his departure and left it with someone to use whenever they needed,” she said as she aligned the stack’s edges neatly.
“Who were the men that came for the bird?” Devon asked.
The keeper shrugged. “They never gave their names. Two fine-looking chaps, dressed in expensive suits.”
“Schreib and Cholmbaumgh,” Devon muttered darkly.
“Maybe,” Beth said. “But there were two men standing at the edge of the park, watching us catch the swan, and I could have sworn I saw them on the train from London too.”
Devon raised an eyebrow. “Mustaches, bowler hats, carrying briefcases?”
“That’s them,” Beth and the aviary keeper said in unison.
Devon nodded. “I saw them on the train too. And I’m fairly sure one of them was in the Hôtel Chauvesouris lobby when we were leaving for the ferry.”
“I was obviously wrong about someone trying to help us,” Beth said.
“I need something stronger than coffee before I answer that,” Devon said. “Then again, I think I might skip a drink altogether and just get straight on a train for the Peak District. Obviously the person with the real answers is Gladstone.”
Beth’s heart sagged, but she reminded it sternly about her desire to win tenure. “That’s a good idea,” she said. “I might do the same.”
“We should go together,” Devon suggested, and Beth’s heart perked up. “We’re still rivals, of course, but it’s only sensible that we keep company until we know who is setting birds on us, and why.” His posture seemed uncharacteristically tense, but his tone was casual, so casual, he made it sound like they were discussing merely crossing the street.
“Sensible indeed,” Beth answered with the same nonchalance, even while her heart lifted so high she thought it might take flight.
Devon smiled. “Besides,” he added, leaning close with a glint in his eye, “it will be more fun.”
Thwomp.Her heart collapsed back in a dreamy, glimmery swoon. She smiled before she even knew what she was doing, and Devon’s pupils dilated in response. Realizing she’d done that to him, Beth curved the smile like a western grebe curving its neck to attract a mate. Devon rocked slightly on his heels, and Beth could only conclude from this evidence that she’d stumbled by pure accident onto her feminine wiles. She inhaled with surprise at the same moment Devon quietly sighed. It was like the soft promise of a kiss, reaching between them to—
“Ahem,”said the aviary keeper.
