My first encounter with an elemental water mage was going swimmingly.
“I saw light in the windows. Finally. I would like to speak with Moira Brodeur.”
“Moira is no longer with us.”
He inched closer, pulling the water and clouds with him. “Then I would speak with her replacement.”
“Her replacement—” I said, stuttering. “Her replacement is no longer with us either.” I tensed the muscles in my legs, anchoring myself against the mage’s aqueous pull.
“Then who among you will find my beloved?” The mage paused. The strength of his pull lessened. Behind him, a vague figure emerged, covered in threads of pearly mist. She was small, with one skinny braid cascading over each shoulder and a trio of scallop shells fanning across her forehead. She dissipated into a bank of fog before I could say anything.
“A long time ago, I paid a lot of money to a witch who assured me she would find my beloved. How many more witches do I have to go through before I am given a capable replacement?”
The threat-laced tone in the mage’s voice startled me into a sharp retort. “The witch you are referring to was my mother, and she’s been dead for seven years.”
He took half a step and fumbled at the back of his neck. The cloth of his pants absorbed the clouds circling his legs. “Then who has assumed responsibility for her contracts?”
When Beryl and Alderose rose from their seats and stepped to either side of me, I couldn’t fault the being in the doorway for smirking. Between the three of us, Alderose’s winged eyeliner and leather getup were the only signal flags of possible of bad-assery on display. “I guess this is it,” she muttered under her breath.
Linking our fingers, we answered the mage, in unison. “We have.”
My belly tightened in reaction to the commitment we had just made. Beryl kept the insanity going by asking the mage if he wanted to join us inside the shop.
“The rules of hospitality dictate no harm shall come to you once you enter,” she reminded us all. “Those same rules mean you cannot use force against us under our own roof. At the very least, we need to know your name and the details of the contract you made with our mother in order to be at all helpful.”
The mage’s gaze lingered on me. I dropped what was left of my bravado and allowed him to see my desire to make this right. He gave a tight nod. The three of us stepped back, giving him room to cross the threshold to our mother’s shop.
Kostya directed the water mage to the head of the cutting table. Beryl pulled a stool to one side, and I tugged mine closer to the other. She withdrew a tablet from her messenger bag, woke the device, and opened a new document. “Let’s begin with your name, as well as whatever details you can recall from when you first engaged our mother’s services.”
“My name is Rémy.” He lifted the champagne bottle and tilted it toward the flickering light coming from the candles. “Rémy Ruisseau, and I will take a glass of this.”
Alderose volunteered to procure another cup. Rémy looked at Beryl, then at me. “You three resemble your mother. Who are your companions?”
Kostya and Alabastair introduced themselves, making it a point to display their badges. Alderose poured more champagne.
“I came to Moira Brodeur in search of my partner, my…my beloved. She assured me she would be found.”
“Could you describe that process to us?” I asked. Our utter lack of knowledge about our mother’s methods meant we had to start at the beginning. Even if starting at the beginning meant irritating a powerful mage.
“I came here, and she interviewed me.”
Kostya placed his fingertips on the table and asked, “Where, exactly, did you meet Moira?”
Rémy tilted his head. “I am confused by your question.”
“Did you meet her here”—I swept my arm around the darkened room—“or in some other space?”
“Ah, I understand.” He pointed at the front door. Silvery shapes swirled around and around the base of his finger. “I walked in through there, your mother greeted me from”—he twisted in the chair and indicated the counter area—“there. She put another woman in charge of the shop and escorted me into her office.”
“Would you mind showing us her office?”
He lifted one eyebrow and drained his cup of champagne. “Follow me.”
Barefooted, with serpentine rings encircling his toes and chains connecting them to more rings around his ankles, he wound around the tables and wavered before stopping in front of the office door.
The power came back on as I drew the door toward me. One overhead light illuminated the cramped, rectangular space. Rémy moved me to the side and entered. “This does not look like the room where we met,” he said, turning in a circle and gazing upward. “I recall seeing the sky and looking across rooftops. There were chandeliers. Four of them. Blazing with light.”
Beryl, Kostya, Alderose, and Alabastair offered their affirmation that the closet-like office would barely accommodate two bodies, let alone four chandeliers. Rémy motioned for everyone to back away from the room. “Give me space to work. Allow me to recall the details of that day. Perhaps my memories hold information you can use.” He looped a finger through one of the myriad chains around his neck and lifted one holding a glass vial. He unscrewed the top and reached for the back of his neck. Bringing forward a slender, intricate braid, he dipped the tip into the vial and used his hair like a paintbrush. As he drew lines in the air, he chanted an invocation to Mnemosyne.
I sucked in a breath as the ghostly imprint of my mother’s hand appeared on the door to the office. The emerald and gold ring circled her middle finger.
“The key,” Alabastair whispered.
“Silence.” Rémy dipped the braid into the vial again and again,
