Steampunk Mystery Series by Shiloh Hollis

Author:Shiloh, Hollis [Shiloh, Hollis]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Spare Words Press
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

SILUS

I would, of course, have thought of the seeking spell myself, had they simply told me the diary was missing. I’d handled it enough that it would be easy to track the book at this point, missing only hours instead of days or months, and with me knowing exactly what it looked like, its heft and size, author and contents. The personal, familial nature of the ties to this house would make it even easier to track.

But Robert had been such a jackass about it—interrupting me before I’d had a decent amount of coffee, telling me what to do, and smirking about Gareth—that I was in a foul mood as I set about making the spell.

I needed only some concentration and judicious application of magic to set the spell. After my fourth cup of coffee—the stronger the better—I felt able to do so, and saw no reason to wait till after I’d finished the rest of my breakfast. I began making the pattern in my head, humming silently, drawing the colors together in a woven pattern, like tapestry. It was an individual spell that only I could do; a different magician would’ve needed to create a different spell.

And as it was something only I could do, it was something that no one could stop. It would find the journal. It would take time, perhaps, but the success rate was bound to be above ninety percent. My teachers at the ministry-school would’ve given me hell for only a ninety percent accuracy on a spell such as this, during my training. With all the favorable factors I had to work with, it would actually more likely be as near a hundred percent as statistically possible.

I set the final color-threads and tied them off, then released the spell like a balloon to waft away. Only the lightest tendril led from it to me, to tug at my awareness when it grew closer to untangling the woven lostness of the web of life and the journal. The spell would work its way, burrowing deep, unstoppable as lava but gentle as mist. It would weave its way into the very tapestry of the universe to find the book. I felt rather smug and satisfied with myself as I put down my last cup of coffee and rose to get something to eat.

Mr. Skeffield was crunching his toast and marmalade happily when his son returned. I had just offered to get Mr. Skeffield some eggs, and he’d accepted, when Robert came back into the room.

He looked lost for a moment, as if he didn’t know what he was doing. He’d rushed off after Louie and driven away in the driver’s place. If ever there was such a display of lovesickness, I’d never seen it before. Now Robert looked around, blindly, as if he couldn’t remember what he was doing.

He’d come back right from the station, by the look of him. Forgotten to primp, too. It was odd to see the man so windblown. He’d made no attempt to straighten his hair or clothing.

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