The Inquisitor's Apprentice

feel so intimidated.

“And … uh … what are you doing here?”

The smile went out like a blown fuse. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing! I just … um … well … I mean, do you work for Inquisitor Wolf?”

“Brilliant deduction. I can tell you’ll make a star Inquisitor. And now if you’ll excuse me, I need to finish this report before lunch.”

“But does Inquisitor Wolf know I’m here?”

Payton heaved a long-suffering sigh, walked over to the closed door behind his desk, and opened it just wide enough to stick his head into the next room. “Excuse me for interrupting, but Sacha Kessler wants me to tell you that he’s arrived. He seems to think apprentices get extra credit for being on time.”

Sacha heard an indistinct murmur from inside the office.

“Not yet,” Payton replied.

Another murmur.

“I know. But he kept pestering me.”

Sacha cringed.

Finally Payton closed the door and turned back to Sacha. “Inquisitor Wolf told me to tell you that if it’s quite all right with you, he would prefer to see you when the other apprentice arrives.”

The other apprentice? It had never occurred to Sacha that there would be another apprentice. He wasn’t at all sure he liked the idea. He was still getting used to it when the door opened and a girl walked in.

And not just any girl. A rich girl. Everything about her said Old Money, from the hand-embroidered lace on her dress to the haughty look on her aristocratic face.

Her cool blue eyes surveyed the room, dismissed Sacha as beneath notice, and settled on Payton. “Sorry I’m late,” she said. “the traffic was so ridiculous that Mother’s motorcar overheated and we had to sit in the middle of Fifty-ninth Street until it cooled down enough to start again.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Peyton told her — and Sacha noted bitterly that she rated his nicest smile. Inquisitor Wolf’s been busy with cases all morning and wasn’t ready to talk to you anyway. Have a seat.”

The girl cleared her throat delicately and looked at the only chair in the room — the one Sacha was sitting in. Sacha leapt to his feet as if someone had lit a fire under him.

“Thank you,” the girl said. But she didn’t sound thankful. She sounded like she thought giving up his chair for a lady was the rock-bottom least a civilized male could do — but still probably more than you could expect from someone like Sacha.

To his surprise she shook his hand before sitting down. “I’m Lily Astral.”

Lily Astral? Sacha’s chin almost hit the floor.

Her pale eyebrows rose in amusement. “According to the rules of polite society, I think you’re supposed to tell me your name now.”

“Uh … Sacha Kessler?”

She peered at him curiously. “The walking witch detector?”

“I guess.” Why did everyone here seem to know all about him? And why did they all give him the same look he was seeing in Lily Astral’s big blue eyes? The one that made him feel like he belonged in a Coney Island freak show.

“You guess?” Lily astral asked. “Don’t you know? And how do you see witches, anyway?”

“I just do. I can’t describe it. People look different when they’re doing magic.”

The blue eyes narrowed. “But only when they’re doing magic?”

“Well … yeah.”

“And the rest of the time they just look normal?”

he nodded reluctantly.

“Then you can’t really see witches at all, can you? You can only see magic.” She sat down, crossing her prim little white-stockinged ankles. “That doesn’t sound nearly as impressive.”

Right then and there, Sacha decided that he hated Lily Astral.

But just as he was beginning to list to himself all the reasons why, the door to the inner office burst open and Inquisitor Wolf appeared.

CHAPTER SIX. Inquisitor Wolf

THE FIRST THING Sacha noticed about Maximillian Wolf was the first thing everyone noticed: nothing.

In a city like New York, charm was cheap. Any shopgirl or salesman could buy a little glamour to help win the next sale or just get that extra edge it took to get ahead, and most did. It wasn’t exactly legal, but it worked. And New Yorkers were too ambitious to turn down anything that worked.

But Inquisitor Wolf didn’t seem to think he needed that kind of help. In fact, he seemed to go to great lengths to be as unglamorous and unmagical as possible. His long, lanky legs were encased in baggy trousers that had never seen the inside of a tailor’s shop, let alone a fitting spell. His jacket hung off his bony shoulders like a scarecrow’s sack. His hair looked like it hadn’t been brushed for weeks. His spectacles were covered with smudges and fingerprints. And his dishwater-gray eyes wore a sleepy, absentminded look that seemed to say Wolf was still waiting for the day to bring him something worth waking up for.

As far as Sacha could tell, the only remotely interesting thing about Maximillian Wolf was the extraordinary collection of food stains on his tie.

“Er … hmmm,” Wolf said, looking at Sacha and Lily as if he was trying to find a polite way of asking them what they were doing there.

“Your new apprentices,” Payton prompted.

“I thought they were supposed to start next week.”

“This is next week.”

“Did I miss another weekend? What was I doing?”

“Working. What else?”

“I don’t even know why I ask anymore,” Wolf sighed. He thumbed through the case files on Payton’s desk, slid one out of the middle of the pile, and drifted back into his office looking like he was well on his way to forgetting about his new apprentices all over again.

“Don’t just stand there!” Payton urged, shooing them across the room and through Wolf’s door. “Go in!”

Wolf looked surprised to see them, but he waved vaguely toward the two straight-backed wooden chairs in front of his desk. Then he wiped his glasses on his tie, opened the case file, and settled in to read it as serenely as if the two of them weren’t going through agonies waiting for him to say something.

Sacha and Lily stared at each other. Lily gave a little shrug as if to say she didn’t know what was going on either.

Then they waited.

And waited.

Sacha didn’t dare watch Wolf, so he examined the office instead. It wasn’t much bigger than the front room where Payton sat — and it was even messier. Every flat surface was covered with papers, books, and food. The papers were piled so high that they spilled over onto the floor in shaggy white drifts. The food looked like it must have been inedible (at least by Sacha’s mother’s standards) even when it was still fresh. And most of the books looked like they’d been read in the bathtub.

But the strangest thing in the room was a muddy heap of black wool on the floor next to Wolf’s desk. At first