It was over so quickly, no one spoke for a moment, not even Ping. The three of them stared at the trap— wordless, motionless. The curious canister turned blacker than black, and appeared to absorb all light, while reflecting none. Not more than a foot long—and yet it held one of the most powerful wizards of the Outremer.
Exeter caught up the silver chain attached to the emerald collar and inched forward for a better look. The tube shimmied across the floor, causing Mia to hiss and Ping to place his foot on the rollicking apparatus. Exeter had been assured the trap was strong enough to hold the formidable wizard—but for how long?
Ping read his mind. “Oakley is fairly sure this will hold him. We even got a thumbs-up from Gaspar, at least—what could be seen of his thumb.”
“Fairly sure?”
Ping shrugged, rather good-naturedly. “The trap works on the same principle as an oil lamp or bottle or— jar. All of which are excellent containers for Moonstones or jinn or wizards.”
Exeter nodded. There were times when he found Ping and Gaspar’s version of the occult beyond mystifying. Still—what they had accomplished was impressive. Exeter shook Ping’s hand. “Honestly, I’m not sure how that could have gone smoother.”
With a great swish of her tail, Mia sat on her haunches beside Exeter.
Nodding to Mia, Ping reached inside his robe. It was no surprise the jinni would be receptive to her thoughts. He removed a familiar Noggy device—the portable portal—from an inside pocket. “Best I return this unit to Oakley’s storage facility, posthaste.”
Exeter held up a finger. “One more thing—you wouldn’t happen to know what happened to Tim and Jersey?”
“They’re back at the hotel, with Phaeton and America. And of course, baby Luna.” Ping’s eyes sparkled just speaking her name. “I have heard her—she has healthy lungs.”
The cat looked up at Ping.
The jinni tucked the black cylinder under his arm. “Luna is a daughter of the moon and stars—she will become a great healer and peacemaker. It is her destiny.” Ping pressed a button and was gone.
Chapter Twenty-four
“I NEVER THOUGHT I’D LIVE TO SEE Phaeton Black pushing a perambulator about in the park,” Exeter goaded. With the panther by his side, he and Mia ambled along with Phaeton and America.
“I cannot believe it myself.” Phaeton leaned over the baby carriage and cooed. “Pay your godfather no mind, Luna.” The beaming papa looked up at Exeter. “She’s got her mother’s almond-shaped eyes—did you see them?”
America smiled. “Her father’s grin, as well—I saw a hint of it just this morning. And there was mischief in her eyes.”
“Let us hope some good comes of it.” Exeter teased, giving a nod to the two Nightshades behind them.
Jersey Blood and Valentine Smith strolled arm in arm, some distance away. Until they had Prospero safely locked away, precautions were to be taken with regards to Luna, in particular. No one knew exactly what this child born of the moon and stars meant, as yet, but they weren’t taking any chances.
Since they had returned to London, there had been several troublesome episodes at Oakley headquarters in the Outremer. The larger rooms designed to house the wizard had proved less than stable. Oakley had called Exeter over to consult on ways to incarcerate the dangerous, wily Prospero.
“We’ll meet in St. George’s Churchyard.” Phaeton snapped him out of his troubled thoughts. The Blacks and entourage split off at a fork in the pathway heading for Shaftesbury Avenue.
“Bright and early, then!” America called to both of them.
Exeter answered Mia’s wave. “At the stroke of ten, Thursday morning.” He turned them north, toward Piccadilly, where they came upon a new neighbor, a Mrs. Agnes Lassiter. She was heiress to a merchant fleet, and her personal worth was reported to be in the millions. Exeter greeted the woman as she made her way over to get a closer look at the large black cat walking beside him.
“Is he a
“
The fascinated woman nodded. “Look, in just the right light you can see the spots hidden by the excess black pigment—melanin—the effect is similar to that of printed silk, is it not?” Leaning closer the woman hesitated. “Might I touch her?”
“She is quite tame, but I do not advise petting.” Exeter smiled.
The woman straightened with a sigh. “Such a beautiful pussy.”
“That she is, Mrs. Lassiter.” Exeter tipped his hat.
“The pheasant is delightful—very succulent.” Mia chewed quietly. She managed to suppress a growl, but not the glare that shot across the dinner table. It had been exactly twelve days, three hours, and forty-nine minutes since their return to London. She knew this because it had been exactly that long since Exeter had visited her bedchamber or touched her intimately. She had brought up his indifference during the soup course, and he had positioned his lack of affection as a necessary disengagement.
“Paris was lovely, Mia, but—”
“I’d rather not listen to any more buts.”
“You deserve to experience the world, meet people, fall in love.”
“Have my heart broken.” She barely choked down whatever tasteless morsel was on her fork.
“If that is what it takes to make you realize you have your whole life in front of you.” Exeter spoke quietly, but forcefully. “I only want for you what every young woman should have. Especially one as bold and beautiful as you are.” Exeter paused to pour them each another glass of claret. “Now, we need to see if you can go it alone. See if you can manage your shifts by using all the techniques I have taught you.”
She took a sip of claret and then another. “What sort of skills do you mean—exactly?”
Exeter sliced a bit of leg meat off the bone. “We shall continue this discussion after dinner. In my study.”
Mia exhaled an exasperated sigh before changing the subject. “Just think, in a few more days, Phaeton and America are finally to marry. And baby Luna will be christened—all in an afternoon.” She smiled. “Even though it galls me to say it, well done, Exeter.”
Since they were to be godparents, Exeter had gamely contrived to meet with the vicar, an amiable man by the name of Wicklow, to make arrangements. “A small wedding after the christening—what could be simpler? As long as Phaeton and America were in the chapel, I thought it expedient to add a ceremony.” Exeter chewed. “Mr. Wicklow agreed.”
He made merry eyes across the table. There was no doubt he felt the tension between them, and was trying to cajole her. “How are the reception plans coming along? Sorry for springing all this on you and then dashing off to Cambridge.”
“Invitations are printed and mailed. Champagne is ordered. We are to have a light supper around seven— with any luck we’ll have the whole motley crew out the door by midnight.”
Exeter tilted his head, curious. “You invited Mrs. Parker and the girls?”
“Of course. They are Phaeton and America’s friends—yours, as well.” She rested her fork and knife on the edge of her plate. “When I used the expression motley crew, I was referring to those unruly Nightshades, including Gaspar, who should be restored enough to attend.” Mia couldn’t help a devilish grin. “Though I suspect a few of Esmeralda Parker’s girls can be just as unruly.”
“I don’t believe our guest list has ever been this interesting,” Exeter sipped his claret. “I hand-delivered
