It hadn’t occurred to her before, but of course there were other circles. And of course, they might take an interest in Jamie.
“Whichever Circle sent you,” Mae said, keeping her voice even, “I’d like to know what they want.”
Jessica crossed her legs with a rasp of silk stockings. “My, you have learned a lot, haven’t you? When I saw you in April, I don’t think you had the faintest idea what was going on.”
“Yeah, I catch on fast.”
“What do you know about messengers, Mavis?”
“It’s Mae,” Mae snapped.
“Like Mae West?” Jessica inquired, and did not wait for Mae’s nod. “Let me guess. You’ve heard we have the power to be magicians, but instead of killing people ourselves, we serve the magicians so they will dole out power to us. Like a magical weekly wage. Does that strike you as likely?”
“How d’you mean?”
“A great many messengers would be all too ready to kill for our own power,” Jessica said softly. “The fact is, we do not have enough capacity for magic to bind the demons and set them loose on chosen victims. We were born with only the barest maddening trace of magic in our veins. Not enough. Not
Nick had thought he was a magician, being Arthur and Olivia’s son. Gerald had talked about having a magical ancestor.
Mae hadn’t actually considered it before, but she said, “Sure.”
“It goes underground in some families, and turns up when magic is forgotten, like stumbling on lost treasure. You didn’t find treasure. Do you never hate your brother,” Jessica murmured, “for being the one born with all that shining magic as his birthright?”
“No,” said Mae.
“He’s going to be very good,” Jessica continued as if Mae hadn’t spoken. “That’s why Gerald is being so careful with him. He’s going to stand in circles of fire and command storms one day. He’s going to wear a ring. And you can dance up a demon just a little better than the other dancers in the Goblin Market. Do you think that’s fair? Do you never want power of your own?”
Mae forced her mind to go slowly over what Jessica was saying, to be methodical and pick out the important details. The fact that she might have a drop of magic in her blood after all wasn’t important.
Not compared to the fact that the magicians clearly had a spy in the Goblin Market, if they knew how she danced. Probably more than one.
“I never hated my brother,” said Mae. “That was your question, wasn’t it? And I answered it. Never did. Never will. I love him.”
“And does he love you enough to share power with you?” Jessica asked. “He could, if he were a magician and you were a messenger. If he wore a sigil and you wore a token, you could have all the power you wanted.”
“If I persuaded Jamie to join the Obsidian Circle, you mean.”
“Not necessarily. But Gerald Lynch is a very brilliant young man.”
Mae rolled her eyes. “I’m sure.”
“You know the sigils the magicians wear?” Jessica asked. “Brands that feed them power and mark them as belonging to a particular Circle. They’re a little like demons’ marks, in a way. Power bleeds through.”
Mae remembered Olivia pulling down her shirt to reveal the black sigil of the Obsidian Circle on her white skin.
Gerald and this woman sitting so calmly in her mother’s parlor wanted to put a mark like that on Jamie.
“Word on the street is that Gerald’s invented a whole different kind of mark,” Jessica said. “Some people say more than one, but I don’t believe that. The one everyone is talking about is based on the Obsidian Circle’s master ring. Thorned snakes eating their own tails. If it’s true, that would be power worth serving.” Jessica’s lips curved, the knives in her earrings ringing out faintly, like wind chimes. “Could be power enough to take on a demon.”
Mae curled her fingers tight into her palms and forced herself to keep smiling.
“So you’re here to frighten Jamie into joining?”
“I’m here to watch you both,” Jessica said. “And perhaps give you a little advice on your best course of action.”
Annabel came through the door, walking like a cat in her towering heels.
“Have you two been having an interesting conversation?” she asked.
She shook her head as Jessica got up to help her with the tray, murmuring that it was not at all necessary, and Jessica leaned against the back of Mae’s chair. Mae’s spine felt as if it wanted to crawl out of her skin and hide down the front of her shirt, but she refused to let herself turn around, even when Jessica was so close her breath was ruffling Mae’s hair.
“Very interesting. I do hope that Mavis will consider the internship,” the messenger said, and she touched Mae’s hair with one hand.
The gesture must have looked casual to Annabel, even affectionate, but it was such a shock that it felt like an invasion. Her fingers were just a little too tight in Mae’s hair as she spoke, her calm voice the way Mae had heard it months ago, too close to cruelty.
“I will be sure,” said Jessica Walker, “to keep in touch.”
