Vanished by Nicole McKeon

Author:Nicole McKeon [Nicole McKeon]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Nicole McKeon
Published: 2023-04-13T00:00:00+00:00

12

The Triumphant Sisterhood

Gwen

Aristotle refused to be left behind.

I spent my morning regretting the late night, dodging Mama as she tried to rope me into breakfast, and packing my carpet bag with things I thought might come in handy on my errands, like salt, my iron letter opener, a bundle of herbs that included agrimony, basil, and cayenne, and various other assorted tools. I even wore my amber necklace for psychic protection.

And every step of the way Aristotle was there, picking at my supplies or trying to hitch a ride on my head, dislodging every pin I needed to keep my hair in place so the ridiculous wide-brimmed hat would not fall off. I tried to leave him in the study after stuffing a book into my bag. He followed me out.

But I didn’t have time to entertain him. I needed to prepare to protect myself, because last night’s news had clarified the seriousness of our situation. If I was going to stop any more deaths, I needed to act fast. And if the kidnappers had access to uncommon magic, I must act while protecting myself. Passive methods, like herbs and talismans, should keep me safe enough from simple magic. But if they targeted me with more dangerous, novel magic?

How did one prepare for unpredictable magic? With educated guesses, and luck. But for mundane threats I needed something a little more direct.

I was drawing my umbrella from the stand by the door when Aristotle came flapping down the hallway. I tried to bribe him with a piece of the roast Monsieur was preparing for supper, but he would have none of it.

“I am about to walk into a place I have never heard of to confront people I do not know about things I don’t understand. You cannot come with me,” I tried to explain to the bird.

He climbed atop my hat, spread his wings, and started croaking. Loudly. When I tried to pry him off he avoided my hands and shouted, “Help! Murder! Attack! Help!”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” I huffed. “No need to be so bloody dramatic. Fine. You may come with me. But if you cause any problems, I will let Mrs. Chapman pluck you and use your feathers for a pillow. You hear me, bird? See if I don’t.”

“He’s a pretty bird.”

“He is an irritating bird.”

Aristotle crowed happily and maneuvered down to my shoulder, where he rode until we climbed into the coach. Harold was taking over for James temporarily, and I brought another footman along for safety’s sake. When I stepped out of the coach I would have to rely on myself. And Aristotle, apparently, who had hopped onto the windowsill and watched the world pass by with avian curiosity.

I slid to the window and peered out alongside him. There, as expected, was Inspector Hardwicke on the back of a bland horse. He had been serious yesterday when he threatened me with surveillance, which would complicate my errand, but must be accounted for. It was a good thing I had a stop to make before driving to the mysterious address on Tromwell Lane.

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