Play With Fire by Justin Gustainis

Author:Justin Gustainis
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Urban Fantasy
ISBN: 9781849974745
Publisher: Solaris
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Twenty-Eight

QUINCEY MORRIS AND Libby Chastain sat in the back of a cab, both lost in thought. They’d left Robert Sutorius in his magic-proof house, still distraught but otherwise unharmed. Libby had offered to take him outside, where her magic worked, and cast a quick spell that would help him recover faster from the psychic damage he’d suffered. But Sutorius had said, “Haven’t you done enough, already? Just go. If you’re done with me, then just go.”

On the sidewalk in front of his house, Libby and Morris had thanked Ashley for her invaluable help in getting past Sutorius’s defenses. Each of them acknowledged, again, that they owed her a favor. It was understood that they would pay off the debt with anything that did not violate their own moral precepts, a stipulation that Ashley had found mildly amusing.

“It was fun, kids – let’s do it again sometime,” she’d said, and walked off to God knows where – although God might not have been the best person to ask.

At her condo, Libby made tea for both of them, adding to it a couple of herbs that, she said, “May be just what we need right now.” Morris wondered if witches ever dispensed Prozac, but kept the thought to himself.

Libby sipped some tea and said, “Another middle-man. That’s rather... disappointing.”

“But there’s no question that Sutorius was telling the truth,” he said.

She made a sour face. “No – no question at all.”

“Still, it would be good to know if this antiquarian book dealer has a web presence.” Morris knelt and retrieved his laptop from under Libby’s couch. He sat down, opened it, and began to search the web.

A few minutes later he said, “Here we go. Adelson’s Rare Books and Antiquities, Harvard Square, Cambridge Mass.”

“Does it show the store?” Libby asked.

“Yep.”

“Let me take a look, will you?”

Morris turned the computer so that Libby could see the screen. “Ground floor, facing the street,” she said, nodding. “That’s good.”

“Why ‘good?’” Morris asked her.

“Maybe I’m just being paranoid, but I was remembering the last time we visited Cambridge, a couple of years ago.”

“Sidney Prendergast,” Morris said flatly. “The Kingsbury Building.”

“Exactly. We were investigating a black magician then, too. Remember? She burned the building out from under us – or tried to.”

“I’m not likely to forget that occasion,” Morris said. “If you hadn’t whipped up something that let us defy gravity for a few seconds...” He shook his head.

“What’s that got to do with this job, Libby? Christine Abernathy’s dead, damn her soul.”

She put a gentle hand on his arm. “Don’t. Please.”

“Don’t what – talk about Christine Abernathy?”

“No, I mean, don’t say what you did about her soul. Maybe it’s because my training taught me to abhor curses – not foul language, you understand, I mean real curses – but that kind of talk makes me uncomfortable.”

“Okay, I’ll be more careful in future. But why are we talking about her, anyway?”

“I’m just glad we won’t have to go high up in any office buildings in Cambridge this time out.

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