CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
Finley’s Pub stood right at the end of Baker Street. It had become the haunt of several SOE agents who’d drift in after a hard day of work. On an evening like this one, I was certainly one of them. We’d mingle at Finley’s with people from neighboring office buildings, bored twenty-somethings looking for conversation, companionship, and even Air Force officers who were off-duty.
Of course SOE agents knew better than to discuss the nature of their work while patronizing Finley’s, even if sincerely trying to blow off steam. I came around for a drink maybe twice every couple of months, and I still used the name “Emelie” while at the pub. I liked going to Finley’s because it felt like I still had a semblance of a normal life. Some nights I’d just sit and enjoy the banter and raucous jokes of the Air Force officers, or watch with amusement as one of the uptight businessmen asked one of the cute twenty-something girls to dance. Sometimes I’d sit at the bar with two or three other SOE agents, and we’d just give each other the I-Know-What-You’re-Going-Through look without uttering a word. It also helped that the barman always gave me free drinks.
I opened the front door, painted an ugly green, and went inside. I took off my coat and hung it on the coat rack. The lingering smell of cigar smoke wafted from the pub’s smoking room, and the lights were dimmed. A few businessmen sat at one of the booths in the far corner, drinking and singing along to I Don’t Want To Set The World on Fire playing on the radio. The barman, Hal, dusted off the bar counter with a rag with no particular enthusiasm, but his face lit up when he saw me, and he gestured toward one of the stools.
“There’s my girl! How are you?”
“I’m well. I’ll have a martini.”
“It’s good to see you, Emelie.” He began mixing my drink.
“It’s a little slow tonight.” I looked over my shoulder and saw the businessmen down the last of their drinks and then head for the door.
“We have our highs and lows. Next week, I’ll hardly manage to keep all the orders straight.” He garnished my drink with an olive and handed it to me.
“Thanks, Hal.” I set my martini in front of me. I grabbed a handful of chips from a half-empty bowl on the bar counter and devoured them.
For a second, I thought about going to Jane Lewis’s place to see what she was cooking. I’d have to stop by and see her anyway to pick up Heilwig’s diary that was dropped off by courier. I buried my face in the martini glass, nearly quivering at the thought of casting that Locus Circle. If I really wanted to, I could do it, but if I made a crucial mistake or if my mind proved weak, I’d end up insane or dead.
However, if I didn’t cast the Circle, then how could I know or understand the rest of the diary? I thought about how it felt to open the first page and begin to read, knowing that I could not turn back once I knew Heilwig’s knowledge and secrets—nor would I want to. My whole life had been shrouded in mystery and filled with questions I could never get answers to. Now, I had a way to satisfy my inquiries and understand what had happened with my father these past sixteen years—what his plan was for the Gray Tower, and for me.
And the only thing that stood in between me and that knowledge I yearned for was that damned Locus Circle.
“Ah,” Hal sighed, beaming with pride over the drink he had made. “She likes it.”
I finished off the martini and saluted him. “You’re too kind. You know, E.B. White said the martini is the elixir of solitude.”
“Who’s that?”
“A poet. I think he writes magazine articles too...I like him.”
Hal reached into one of his compartments beneath the bar counter. “That reminds me, I just got another one in.”
“Did you?” I watched him pull out a small red book.
“This one’s by Elinor Glyn.” He shoved it toward me. The title read in fading black letters, Three Weeks.
“When I asked for book recommendations,” I said, flipping through its pages, “I thought you’d give me something like Austen, or Brontë.”
He snorted. “This is what the ladies are reading nowadays. No one wants to go out for a beer and talk about bloody Elizabeth Bennet.”
“Hey—that’s classic literature, buddy.” I held up the red book. “This...this is...smut.”
“Suit yourself, your highness.”
I flipped through the book again. “I mean, look at the vocabulary in here. How many times does this woman have to use the word ‘pleasure’?”
“All right, you’ve made your point.” He reached for the book, but I set it on my lap.
“I didn’t say I wasn’t going to read it.” I made a mental note to go back and read page forty-five.
He chuckled. “Would you like another martini?”
“A hot soup would be nice.”
“I’ll be right back.”
Just as Hal headed into the kitchen, I heard the front door open and shut. I didn’t care to take notice of the newcomer until she came and sat right next to me. When I saw who it was, I immediately rubbed my vitriol bracelet to enhance my clarity of mind, all the while resting my right hand on the book, my left hand in my pocket, on my silver knife.
Casandra regarded me with a tentative smile, and though her tight red dress, golden locks, and attractive face would make any man’s head turn, seeing her made my stomach turn. She was a Cruenti who claimed to be reformed, but damned if I had ever met one.
“You’re Emelie, yes? I’m Casandra.” She offered her hand, but I sat there like a statue.
“I know who you are.” I’d seen her at the pub before. She would spend her time drinking and socializing until it was time to stumble out the door with her latest flame. Granted, she seemed to only date non-wizards, but there was just something about her I didn’t like—aside from the whole being a Cruenti business, and in addition to resembling Nikon Praskovya.
“I don’t think you do know who I am, love.” Instead of widening the gap between us, she seemed to lean in a little closer.
My heart pounded in my chest, and I clenched the knife. “I’m surprised Hal even let you in here.”
She sat up straight. “I haven’t harmed anyone...and I have rights like any other citizen, don’t I? A girl can get a drink, can’t she?”
“How long do you think you can go without feeding on a wizard? Assuming you’re not lying about abstaining.”
“I see that I’m speaking with a Tower Slave.” With a smirk, she leaned in again and drew in a deep breath. “An alchemist.”
“It’s impolite for someone like you to read a wizard like that.” I began slowly pulling the silver knife out, but halted when Hal returned with my soup.
“Here you are, Emelie. Good evening, Casandra, what can I get for you?”
“Gin and tonic, Halden. Thank you.”
He began making her drink and smiled. “Casandra, I thought you’d bring in Edan.”
She waved her hand through the air. “He’s old news.”
“So it didn’t work out, eh?” He gave her the gin and tonic.
“I just didn’t find him amusing anymore.” She sighed and took a sip.
“You’ve got to tell me...” Hal leaned over the bar counter. “Did you bite him?”
She joined him in laughing. “No, I didn’t!”
I rolled my eyes at their exchange. Hal and others wouldn’t find her so fascinating if they possessed magical abilities and had to fend her off. I made another mental note to make sure Edan hadn’t shown up in any recent missing persons reports. Just in case.
“I have to go, Hal.” I left my soup untouched.
“So soon?” His smile faded. “The Air Force officers are coming in tonight. The tall one, Jack, asked about you last week.”
“I have to go,” I repeated in a low voice. I held the book with both hands so I wouldn’t be tempted to reach for my knife again.
I went over to the coat rack and slipped the book into one of my coat’s outer pockets. I pulled on my coat and buttoned it up, throwing one last glance in the di
rection of the bar. Hal had gone into the kitchen again, and Casandra sat there—staring back at me like she wanted to drain me.
“Maybe I’ll see you around again,” she said.
“Hmm...yes, let’s just hope I don’t have a stake or sword in hand.” Having gotten in the last word, I opened the ugly green door and headed out.