Our work for the Sor Juana Alliance had many parts. In his guise as constable, Roy continued tracking down members of the Cisneros Society who had participated in what all of the commonwealth now called “the séance crimes,” so named for their exposure by Clem at the Grand Séance. Draken, still in serpent form, sat in a Salem prison. And the five men whose thews had been victims of stoning deaths were also under lock and key. Commonwealth had dismissed the faculty and expulsed the students, including Simeon, who had been implicated in the séance crimes. I took satisfaction in the fact that Simeon and his father were both awaiting trial, and that the evidence Roy had accumulated through his painstaking investigations—and the evidence I could provide—would weigh heavily upon them. In the court of public opinion, the name “Cisneros” was now synonymous with all things foul and evil.
I was not sure their disgrace would last. Already Roy had told us of a certain reluctance among his fellow officers of criminal enchantment to pursue those members of Cisneros who had not personally acquired thews from the stoning deaths. And I had no doubt that once the public discovered that many of the comforts they prized relied upon the enchantments of Cisneros members,their hostility would soften. Those Cisneros men—including Hornsby and Mead—who had managed to flee the Manse had only to wait a reasonable time for the tide to turn. As Hornsby had boasted to Clementine, their network was vast. The Sor Juana Alliance had word of them in places as far flung as Toronto and Mexico City, where they could take refuge and regroup.
“I do worry that Hornsby will not be content with his freedom,” I said, watching Roy and Clem devour their breakfasts. “He may retreat for a little while, but he is not one to cut his losses. I think he will return—with a vengeance.”
“Wister agrees with you,” Clem said in between mouthfuls.
At Keel House, the Sor Juana members pursued their lines of inquiry to track the Cisneros members down while continuing their other work. I played a small but important part in their learning, as the only spirit among them. Despite the newfound prerogatives established by Clementine for women students at Commonwealth, the Sor Juana Alliance remained committed to secrecy. Their larger project, to achieve some semblance of equality in the practice of enchantment, was noble, but it would not be won by the defeat of Draken alone. The work was slow. Someday, perhaps, there would be dozens of enchanters like Clementine, and someday, Wister assured me, even thews would be free of coercion.
“She thought until today that Hornsby would be gathering reinforcements,” Clem continued, “then returning to storm Keel House.”
“What changed today?” I asked.
Clem paused, and we all turned to look at her expectantly. Cris put down his work, my mother looked up from her sewing, and Roy stopped chewing. Clem looked around at us triumphantly. “A portal has been discovered.”
We all stared at her in silence. Then Roy said, “Where?”
“Lawrence. In one of the mills.”
“What does it mean?” my mother asked anxiously. “Is that good or bad?”
I turned to her. “It means we must ensure that the portal is secure, or Cisneros will try to seize it.”
“We must leave at once,” Roy said, putting down his plate.
“Don’t worry,” Clem said, putting a hand out to stop him. “Wister is already on the way. She asked if you would stay at Keel House while Sam and I go to Lawrence. In case they try to breach Keel House while she’s gone.”
Roy nodded. “Of course.” He stood up, taking the last few bites of his eggs. “Thank you, Mrs. May. The seed-cake was delicious.”
“It’s Cris’s recipe,” she said mildly, taking the plate. “You be careful, Roy.”
“Always,” he said, taking his coat from the coat stand. “Until soon,” he said, before opening the door and dashing out.
“Will you be gone overnight?” my mother asked me, as Clem finished her seed-cake.
“It’s possible,” I said.
My mother nodded complacently.
“Don’t worry about me,” I said, going to put my arm around her. “You know nothing can harm me now.”
She squeezed me gently. “So you say. I try to believe it.”
“I’ll take good care of him, Mrs. May,” Clem assured her.
“I know you will,” she replied, kissing Clem affectionately on the cheek. “As long as you’re together, I don’t worry about either of you.”
We said our good-byes to my mother and Cris and tumbled out the door, where Clem’s horseless barouche was drawing theusual admiring attention. On most days, she could be persuaded to give the children a ride around the block, but on this occasion she hustled us into the carriage and started off at a moderate pace. I had grown more accustomed to the gaping absence where a horse should have been, and Clem had equipped the barouche beautifully with front and rear lights, rubber tires, and ample storage.
Indeed, the barouche was not the only thing Clem had refurbished. All of Saddle Street boasted improvements we had made: a notable absence of potholes, a working pump, bright streetlamps, and sidewalks smooth enough for Cris’s wheeled chair. Now the entire neighborhood came to me with petitions, and even the outlandish requests I didn’t mind, for it meant I had finally fulfilled my ambition of serving, in some capacity, as the fairy godmother of Saddle Street.
For a little while Clem and I were silent as the carriage rolled along. I was content simply to be in her company. “How long will the drive be?” I asked.
“Once we reach the main road, we can travel faster.” Clem pursed her lips. “Perhaps two hours.” She leaned back, pulling my arm around her shoulders.
“Careful, you’ll catch a chill,” I teased, for I was self-conscious of my cold, damp presence, and some part of me remained uneasy with such proximity, much as I wished for it.
“I’ve told you,” she said, burrowing in closer. “You don’t feel cold or damp to me. You feel just as warm as you should.”
