Vellum and Green Vitriol
Copyright © 2007, S. Y. Affolee
The Second Conjuration
Seal XXIII
"The next time I get it into my head to see some antiquities, please shoot me."
Rhys hooked his arm around mine without asking as we exited the Greenglass Museum through its front entrance. "Why? You put up a convincing front. You nearly convinced me that you had a special fondness for classical antiquities."
He radiated warmth in the cool autumn air, but I made sure that I wasn't walking too closely. Getting too close to the fire would get you burned. "Anyone can playact. But if I had to listen to one more of Witford's monologues about the provenance of such and such, I would be hard pressed not to take one of his precious pottery jars and smash it over his head."
"Quite the violent girl, I see."
"I've had enough spare time in my existence to hone my skills on certain weapons. I'm quite fond of the pistol."
"Are you a good shot?"
"Good enough. How about you?"
"The sword."
I made a face, not bothering to hide it. "Aside from fencing, isn't that rather barbaric? The only thing you can do is to hack at your opponent."
"Well, if that's how you feel about it, I won't bring up my proficiency with the mace either."
"Exactly why do you know how to use the sword? And dare I say the mace as well?" I turned to look at him, but he seemed to be gazing ahead on the street, thinking.
"They were the first weapons I used soon after I became aware. I had no choice, really. There was a war going on. And I had no idea whether or not this body is indestructible. Even now, I would not dare to test it."
"Good choice." I thought about suggesting a cab to take us back to the hotel, but it wasn't that cold. Besides, walking down the street seemed more intimate than the cab. Other pedestrians ignored us. Whereas one would always be cognizant of the eavesdropping driver.
"I used to have a friend. A human friend."
Not sure what he was talking about, I prompted, "Used to?"
"About fifty years ago. I counted him as a true friend because he knew my real nature."
"Ah." I had never told another human being about my true nature. If the people around me started getting suspicious about my lack of age, I just moved elsewhere and started over. It wasn't that hard since I took care not to form any long term attachments.
"We were in business together. It wasn't the usual sort of business. It has had its hazards. And then there was the sorcerer."
"Blackthorne?" I said, thinking back to the incident at Parrish Books.
"No. It was another. Suffice it to say, I wasn't quick enough and my friend was killed."
At his chilled tone, I found his hand. "You can't blame yourself for your friend's death. If that sorcerer was intent on killing somebody, he would have done it regardless. Is this why you're chasing Blackthorne?"
He looked down at my fingers, wrapped around his. "What does it matter why I'm doing something?"
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a figure bundled up in a voluminous cloak heading in the opposite direction. His eyes were fixed on the ground and his boots made quick agitated taps on the pavement. Sensing my change in attention, Rhys looked up as well.
"Mr. Mayhew, what a surprise to see you," he called out.
The figure halted and I saw a face peer out from a wide-brimmed bowler. Eyes widened as Mayhew recognized us. He seemed to burrow himself even further within his overly large greatcoat as if he had taken a sudden chill. "Mr. Lattimore, Miss Talbot, the same to you. You've come back to Greenglass so soon? Did you already talk to Mr. Chesterfield about the book you were looking for?"
"Unfortunately, Mr. Chesterfield was not in residence when we arrived at Fairmont," I said. "However, we have heard that he has a permanent residence in Haven."
"I am sure Mr. Severin would have information as on that as well. Unfortunately, he has still not found Mr. Chesterfield's contact information. Will you be coming to the auction house to look through the storage rooms again?"
Remembering the finding spell that Rhys performed that turned up nothing, I replied, "We're going to Haven tomorrow morning. Perhaps we can catch up to Mr. Chesterfield then."
"Haven?"
"If Mr. Severin does find Mr. Chesterfield's information, please have him wire it to us at Haven," said Rhys. "I'll give him a call once we get there to let him know where we're staying."
"Yes, of course," said Mayhew with a nod. "I'm sure Mr. Severin will be happy to do that for you. I must say that you're lucky to get on tomorrow's train to Haven. It will be the last one for this week."
"Really?" I said. "I suppose we are lucky."
Mayhew shifted nervously on his feet. His gaze darted to something beyond us. "Please excuse me, but I am in a hurry." He gave a dry laugh and a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "You know how things are about wives. Mine won't tolerate me being late."
I looked down at his hands, but Mayhew had them tucked into his coat out of sight. We would never know if his excuse was a truth or a lie.
"We won't keep you then. Good evening Mr. Mayhew," said Rhys.
I replied similarly and soon, we were heading back to the hotel again. I didn't think much about our strange encounter with the auction house assistant until I reached my room and noticed there was something odd about my door.
"Someone broke into my room." Rhys had taken the room across from mine. I could hear the cold fury in his controlled tone.
His door was ajar. I followed him as he stormed into his room. "Are you going to tell the hotel management?" I asked.
His suitcase was open, but he only gave a cursory glance at his clothes. "Nothing was taken. They wouldn't believe me." He looked at me. "Ana. What about your room?"
"I don't really have anything worth taking unless the burglar really wanted a clothes iron." Nonetheless, I went to my door. I turned the knob and it moved easily in my hand. "Huh. I thought I locked it."
Close behind me, Rhys said ominously, "There's nothing here that would stump a competent lock picker."
My room appeared untouched. Even the suitcase beside the bed looked like it was still locked. But there was still something quite odd...
"Where's Thor?" I asked suddenly.
"That doesn't mean anything. The cat could be out for a walk." But he sounded doubtful. He was already opening a wardrobe, checking its contents.
"Hey Al, where did Thor go?" I asked out loud. "Did he get bored with bothering you?" I opened the drawer where I had placed the Necronomicon.
It was empty.
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