They went toward the door, hands still linked.
Mae told herself not to feel guilty. She wasn’t lying. She did like Seb, and she did want to be there for him if his home life was horrible. He’d reached out to her when he barely knew her; she owed him that much.
He knew Jamie had a secret, and he’d seen Gerald doing something inexplicable. It was only reasonable to keep an eye on him.
She wasn’t going to feel guilty for looking out for her brother.
Mae pushed the door open, walking half a step before Seb, and the afternoon sunlight struck her full in the face, the yellow wash of rays blinding her for a second.
It was possible that she didn’t want to be totally unattached now the Ryves brothers were back, and so what? Mae should feel good about that. For the first time in her life, she was choosing to stay out of trouble.
The light in her eyes faded, dwindling into bright spots dancing in front of her eyes. Then she blinked and all she saw was Jamie, who must have seen her going into the building and waited for her to come out. He was staring at her and Seb’s linked hands.
“Hey,” Mae said as she saw the slow sweep of disbelief, with fury following, across his face, and realized what this must look like to him. “Hey, Jamie. Wait.”
Jamie didn’t wait. He didn’t even speak. He kept that stunned, betrayed gaze on her an instant longer, and then turned and ran.
When she dropped Seb’s hand and ran after her brother, she rounded the corner of the school and found that he’d vanished.
Just like that. Like magic.
Mae searched for Jamie for about an hour before she gave up, went home, and ran up the stairs to find her mother in the parlor having tea with a messenger from a magicians’ Circle.
“Uh,” said Mae, quick-thinking and brilliant as always.
Annabel was gleaming with polite determination to be a perfect hostess, pale and avid as a very polite ghoul.
The messenger for the magicians’ Circle looked far more normal. She had dark hair and a smart suit, but Mae could imagine her in jeans and a jumper, being a normal mother. Except then she tilted her head and Mae saw her earrings, circles with tiny knives inside them, real knives with needle-sharp points.
Alan had explained that circles with knives inside were a sign magicians had their messengers carry, promising death to anyone who interfered with them.
Mae had always thought that jewelry should make a statement.
For this one, though, she didn’t need the jewelry. Mae had seen her before. Nick and Alan had drawn weapons at the very sight of her, and she’d smiled, her red-lipsticked businesswoman’s mouth forming a smile that was just a little too calm, just a little too close to cruel, and said, “Black Arthur says that now’s the time. He wants it back.”
At the time, Mae had not even known who Black Arthur was or what he wanted. She did now.
She did not know the woman’s name.
Annabel blinked at her twice, a motherly Morse code for, Well done, you barged in on me and my guest like a bull longing for a new china shop.
“This is my daughter, Mavis,” she said apologetically. Whether she was apologizing for Mae’s sudden arrival or Mae’s pink hair was unclear. “This is Jessica Walker, Mavis. She’s a colleague of mine looking for planning permission from the board.”
“I have a client who wishes to expand her interests to Exeter,” said Jessica Walker, the magicians’ messenger, and smiled with a hint of teeth. “We’ve met before, haven’t we, my dear?”
That smile was an obvious challenge. Mae suddenly found calm in her sea of panic and smiled back.
“Have you?” Annabel asked.
“Certainly,” said Mae, matching Jessica’s cool, amused tone.
“I met her and a group of her friends when they were interviewing me for an extracurricular project,” Jessica said. “Do you know the Ryves brothers? Sweet boys.”
“I don’t believe so,” said Annabel slowly, a pin-scratch line appearing between her silvery brows.
“Mavis struck me as a very promising girl,” Jessica continued, twinkling at Mae. “School’s almost out,” she added. “Have you considered doing an internship? My client could use an extra pair of hands, and it would look terribly good on your CV.”
“I hadn’t thought about it, but maybe it would be interesting,” Mae said, and Annabel looked briefly startled and pleased.
Not while the messenger was looking at her, Mae was glad to see.
“If it wouldn’t be too much trouble,” said Jessica, almost absently, “could you possibly get me another plate of that delicious shortbread?”
Annabel smiled, facade as perfect as the glaze on good china, and said, “Of course.”
Her mother rose, smoothing her dove gray skirt, and left the parlor. Mae came in, scuffing the creamy carpet deliberately, making it clear that she was at home here, that she was facing down her enemy on her own turf.
Then she sank into the chair opposite the magicians’ messenger, still warm from her mother’s body, and said, “Does the Obsidian Circle have a message for me?”
“What makes you think it was the Obsidian Circle who sent me?” Jessica Walker asked smoothly.
