“Cleaning. I thought I’d make a start. It’s spring, after all.” She scurried off to an old tin kettle, which she, rather alarmingly, put on top of a tripod and lit a Bunsen burner underneath. Even in tea-making, she was a scientist to the core. Then she set about preparing three mugs and three elegant, painted ceramic strainers for the tea leaves. I wasn’t much of a tea drinker myself, but I wasn’t about to turn it down, under the circumstances. “Now, what can I do for you lovely ladies?”
Genie and I exchanged a conspiratorial glance before I answered. “Could you show us how the puzzle boxes work, again?”
“Absolutely!” She checked her vintage wristwatch—a rose gold face with a blush leather strap. “In exactly… thirty-eight seconds. Oh, and make sure you let the leaves steep, or it’ll taste like trash.” She stood, timing it to the last moment.
What I guessed to be thirty-eight seconds later, the kettle started squealing. Watching Naomi had the same effect as watching an elaborate ballet. In one fluid motion, she plucked up the kettle, poured the water into each teacup, set the kettle down, and lifted the cups on a tray. Balancing them perfectly on one hand, she scooped up a puzzle box with the other and made her way to our workbench.
“I don’t suppose this technically counts as a class, with just the two of you.” Naomi spread the cups equidistant from each other. She was probably one of those gifted people who could draw a perfect circle freehand. “It’s more like a tutorial, in a way. Ah… I remember those from my days at Cambridge. Best years of my life.” She stared wistfully into the distance.
Genie propped her chin on her hands, gazing at Naomi with newfound admiration. “You went to Cambridge?”
“Both of them, yes.” Naomi scooted around to the other side of the workbench while Genie and I sat down.
I tilted my head. “Huh?”
“The magical one and the non-magical one, but I loved them equally. Punting down the River Cam, cycling through the town on a summer’s day. Wonderful times.” Naomi shook her head like a wet dog. “But you haven’t come here to hear me reminisce. Though you can, if you like? I’ll have a lot of time on my hands—too much time, until Victoria asks me to join the search. Where was I? I guess you could say my train of thought left the station.”
“Puzzle boxes,” I prompted.
“Yes, these magnificent beauties!” Naomi picked up a sea-green box, with the silvered patterns. “Simple enough once you know how, as with most things. First, make sure all the designs are aligned. Then, when you’ve managed to immobilize a monster, you press the harp button and throw this luscious bit of ingenuity at it. It’ll get sucked right in, and the lid snaps shut. After that, it’s a case of twisting the box so the designs get all muddled, and you have it locked in and ready for transport.”
Genie nodded along. “And how do you get the creature into a Bestiary box or a Repository bubble?”
“That’s the easiest part. Twist everything back so the designs align again, press the harp button and, presto, you’ve made a deposit at the Bank of the Bestiary.”
Naomi showed us, turning the narrow slats of the box backward and forward. She pressed the harp button and the lid slid back, revealing a blood-red interior. Fragments of gemstone and glowing hexes shone, neatly arranged on the inner walls like a circuitry board. For such a small box, it was overflowing with magical technology. It certainly put the plain Mason jars to shame, though I liked the familiarity of those.
“Can I try?” Genie asked eagerly.
“Of course you can.” Naomi pushed the box toward her and turned her attention to her cup of tea. I watched her take out the strainer and set it delicately on the workbench. She lifted the cup to her nose ceremoniously and inhaled, her eyes closing contentedly. Only then did she take a sip. I wondered if a whiff of the stuff would relax me for what I had to do next.
Instead, I took a deep breath. “Could we get a crate of those boxes, to help with the pixie hunt?”
Naomi stilled mid-sip. “Has this request been sanctioned by Victoria?”
I stared down into the lurid green liquid of my cup, thinking for a moment. I considered lying, but I didn’t want to get Naomi in trouble.
“No.” I sighed, choosing the righteous path.
“Persie, I’m sorry, but I can’t hand over any puzzle boxes without Victoria’s permission.” Naomi sounded apologetic. I’d already known the answer when the truth had tripped off my tongue. Nobody defied Victoria lightly, if at all.
Genie set down the puzzle box. “Shouldn’t, not can’t. What if we were to tell you that we had a really good reason for wanting them?”
“I would listen, but that doesn’t mean my answer would change.” Naomi smiled, her eyes glittering with curiosity.
“How about this: These are Persie’s creations that are on the loose, and she wants to tidy up the mess she made.” Genie cast me an apologetic glance. “You’re all about showing and not telling at this Institute, so how is Persie supposed to learn if she’s not allowed to fix the situation herself? It’d be like one of your Omnispheres glitching during an experiment, and someone telling you that you can’t make tweaks so it doesn’t glitch next time.”
Naomi swirled her tea. “Interesting.”
“Plus, she knows these creatures better than anyone.” Genie dove back in. “Victoria’s worried about them snatching other students, but that won’t happen to Persie. She made them, so they respect her. If anyone can catch them, it’s her. But she needs puzzle boxes to do it.”
Naomi looked back at her private project, the exposed inner workings of her Omnisphere on display. I saw the cogs whirring behind her eyes, as intricate and sensitive as her self-made device.
“I created them, Ms. Hiraku,” I said softly.
