Mirror, page 21
Artemis peered into a barrel of oddly shaped mushrooms as they walked. “Is this where people get their eye of newt and toe of frog?”
Miss Ashcroft laughed softly, amused at her question. “Yes, although, ironically, eye of frog and toe of newt are more useful.”
Artemis wasn’t sure if she was having a go at her or not, but judging from the buckets of wriggling glow worms they’d just passed, probably not.
Pendants dangled from leather strings along dead tree branches. One seemed to float in the air until Artemis realized it was held aloft by a small, winged faery carrying it from one branch to another. As she looked closer, it became clear that there was an entire flock—flight?—of faeries rearranging their wares in a small amulet kiosk.
Crystals of all colors sparkled in their crates at another, and the thick cloying smell of incense smoke floated out, mixing and dancing with the people passing by.
A thin man wearing a leather apron, gloves and heavy boots stepped out into the flow of traffic.
“Juju on the fritz?” he said, “Mojo not on the go-go? Try one of our of special energy potions. Double the vitality guaranteed! Except for you pixies,” he added to a pair of small, childlike little elven creatures. “Not good for your tiny bellies, ye see?”
The two little pixies exchanged a look and then scurried past, trying not to get trampled by the bigger folk. At first, Artemis hadn’t noticed. She’d been too gobsmacked by the faeries and the pixies, but some of the people, human-sized people, didn’t look all that human. Some had small horns or pointed ears. The hues of their skin were shades she’d never seen before. A Japanese man walked through, a small white fox perched on his shoulder. There was even a well-dressed gentleman who passed by, tipping his top hat, who had a small set of what looked suspiciously like gill slits peeking out above his cravat.
This place was amazing! To think this had been under her feet her whole life and she’d had no idea! The world was suddenly and irrevocably larger—and stranger—than she’d ever imagined. It was astonishing, but also a little terrifying. If there were this many magical people in London, how many of them were friend and how many foe? She thought she had a plateful with shades and whatever Leroux had conjured. The idea that there was an entire magical community like this ….
Moving closer to Miss Ashcroft, she shamelessly gawked at the people streaming passed her. “Are all of them magical?”
“To some degree. Many are; some are just, well, not entirely human.”
Artemis continued to stare and noticed that some were staring back, a few even unpleasantly. The worry that had sprouted inside her grew.
A rather round-bellied man with a snub nose snorted at her and mumbled something doubtlessly unpleasant as she passed.
Her father appeared at her side. “What was that about?”
Miss Ashcroft watched the man walk away. “I think some can sense who Artemis is. It makes them nervous.”
A couple with obsidian eyes glowered at her as they passed and whispered something between them.
“They aren’t the only ones,” Artemis muttered.
Her father solicitously took hold of her elbow and scanned the crowd uneasily. “Are you sure it’s safe here?”
“Yes,” Miss Ashcroft said. “You must understand. Some see … Artemis,” she added clearly wanting to say the Blaze but not daring speak the name aloud, “as a threat. They don’t mean any harm, but they’re afraid.”
Afraid of me?
Suddenly, someone grabbed her arm and yanked her around. She came face to face with the pig-faced man, who leaned down and snorted in her face. “You don’t belong here, Blaze.”
Chapter Twenty
The pig-faced man let go of her arm but leaned in closer to Artemis. “You’re not welcome here, girl.”
Some might fear her, but obviously, this man did not. He looked at her with ill-disguised contempt.
“I’m sorry, I …”
Her father stepped to her side.
The man snuffled the air and drew back. “Human,” he said as if it were an oath.
“I’m afraid so,” her father admitted.
The pig-face man snorted again and muttered something.
“They are here as my guests,” Miss Ashcroft said.
The man seemed to see her for the first time. He humphed but seemed momentarily appeased, although he kept looking at Artemis and her father suspiciously. With more muttered words he melted back into the crowd and they continued on their way.
“You were saying how safe it was here,” her father said, glancing over his shoulder to make sure they weren’t being followed.
Miss Ashcroft laughed. “We should be fine, as long as—”
The lights overhead flickered and, instantly, everyone stopped to look up at them. If they went out, they would be well and truly in the dark and one hundred feet below ground. Maybe the pig-man had the right idea.
An uneasy murmur spread through the crowd as the lights blinked again.
“What’s going on?” her father asked as he looked around worriedly.
“It’s a Renewal,” Miss Ashcroft said. “Occasionally, the wards that protect the market need to be refreshed. It’s quite normal.”
The words were reassuring, but there was something in her tone that wasn’t.
“Then why is everyone so nervous?” her father asked quietly.
“They don’t merely protect the market from outsiders, but from the outside itself.”
Her father looked up at the light as it flickered on and off.
“You mean the wards keep the tunnel from collapsing?”
Artemis had never been claustrophobic before, but she was starting to think she might be as a cold sweat broke out at the thought of being trapped down here.
“Magic users are typically not the best engineers,” she said as the lights flickered once again. “They tend to take shortcuts.”
As if on cue a small leak sprung in the ceiling not far ahead of them and the murmur of anxiety increased.
“Perhaps we should go,” her father suggested.
“It’s all right,” Miss Ashcroft said, certainly calmer than Artemis was.
She indicated a tall man in a deep blue uniform who appeared with a ladder almost out of nowhere and climbed up to seal the leak. “Nothing to worry about,” he said, “They’ll have it all sorted in—”
Before he could finish the lights dimmed and then came back on, strong and steady.
“You see,” the man said. “Trust in the Circle.”
Artemis heard her father’s relieved exhalation. “I’m almost afraid to ask, but what is the Circle?”
“Some of the most powerful witches in London,” replied Miss Ashcroft. “They oversee the market and make sure the wards are kept up.” She offered him another smile. “Nothing to worry about, Doctor, as you can see.”
A cabal of powerful witches, nothing to worry about? Artemis wasn’t so sure. Miss Ashcroft did seem kind, and was probably closer to the definition of “good” than most regular people she knew, but the idea of the Circle left an unsettled feeling in the pit of her stomach.
As to the rest of the shoppers, the moment of trepidation passed and the market was back to its bustling self.
“The shop I’m interested in is just down this way,” Miss Ashcroft said as she started down the tunnel again. “There’s a very wise mage there who may be of help. He’s very learned in the ancient ways.”
Her father fell into step with her, but his jaw was still set. When he looked down at Artemis, though he tried not to show his disquiet, he gently took her elbow to start her moving as well, keeping her a little closer than before.
They walked further into the market and passed by some remarkable stalls. There was one with candles and another with wooden totems, but it was the clock shop that grabbed her attention.
Like some of the larger shops, the clock shop was a room of its own cut into the side of the tunnel. Through the glass windows she could see its wares—every sort of clock imaginable, from cuckoo to grandfather. Shelves were lined with mantle clocks and skeleton clocks sitting in their glass cases, but it wasn’t the clocks themselves that caught her eye; it was the people inside.
None of them moved.
“That’s odd,” she said, coming to a stop herself. “That’s very odd.”
Inside, a woman was reaching into her purse, but seemed frozen in place, her hand immobilized just above her reticule, while the man next to her appeared caught in mid-sneeze, eyes squinting, mouth drawn back.
“What is it?” her father asked, coming back to her.
She didn’t answer but kept staring at the people. It took her a moment to realize it, but they weren’t completely still. They were moving, just very, very slowly.
The woman’s fingers were just about at the top of her purse now and the man’s eyes were nearly shut as his hand slowly raised toward his mouth.
Miss Ashcroft appeared at their side.
“What is this place?” her father asked, sounding as amazed as Artemis was.
“Clock shop. Interesting. But very time-consuming.”
Not really a very good joke.
But then she realized that Miss Ashcroft wasn’t joking.
“It’s an old witches’ trick—enchanted clocks. Time moves more slowly when you’re in close proximity to them. How do you think we get so much done in a day?”
Her father’s mouth opened, then closed and then opened again. “Do you mean to say that time itself runs more slowly in there?”
“Yes, and with so many clocks each slowing time, it’s a bit of a bother to shop there. Takes all day, sometimes two. Once you leave, of course. When you’re inside things seem to be moving normally.”
“Time runs different inside the shop than out?” he asked, then stood a little straighter. “Your clock! In Pandora’s Box. I knew there was something off about it. It’s one of those, isn’t it? Time passes more slowly inside your shop.”
She inclined her head in response.
“Remarkable.”
A strange thought occurred to Artemis then. “How old are you then?”
“Artemis,” her father chided.
“What? If she spends all that time with one of those clocks she could be a hundred!”
Miss Ashcroft laughed. “I’m not quite that old, but,” she added with a look at Artemis's father, “a lady never tells.”
She let them ponder that for another moment before ushering them along. “The shop’s just down here.”
They walked past another two or three stalls before Miss Ashcroft paused and gestured to one on the right. There didn’t seem to be anything special about it, at least not compared to some of the places they’d passed. It seemed more of a general use magic shop with a variety of goods, from herbs and fresh flowers to crystals and small talismans. Two barrels full of old weather-beaten scrolls sat on either side of a life-size statue of the Greek god Hermes complete with round hat, traveler’s cloak and absolutely no underpants.
Artemis looked away, feeling a blush crawl up her neck. Not that she hadn’t seen as much in museums before but there was something oddly more intimate about seeing it here.
Her father gave her a curious look, and she very quickly busied herself admiring a display of charms.
Luckily, before he could ask her anything, a man came out of the back of the shop. He was about her father’s age and build, but the similarities stopped there. His complexion was dark, and his jet black hair fell in waves to his shoulders. He moved with a casual confidence, almost like a dancer. His eyes were large and dark, and his mouth full and expressive. When his gaze fell upon Miss Ashcroft, his face broke into a broad grin, and he strode toward her, arms outstretched.
“Mi corazón!”
This was the powerful mage she’d talked about earlier?
He took her by the shoulders and kissed each cheek. “You look more beautiful every time I see you, which is not often enough,” he said in a thick Spanish accent, still holding on to her.
“It is good to see you, too, Javier,” Miss Ashcroft said, laughing at his outlandishness.
He let her go and stepped back to admire her, which he did shamelessly. “It has been too long.”
“I’m not the one who’s been away,” she said.
He gave a shrug with both his shoulders and his expression. “I was required in Madrid again.” His dark eyebrows rose with resignation. “Eh, it does not matter now that you are here, no?”
He clasped his hands in front of him in anticipation. “Now, what can I do for you, cariña?”
“I’ve come—we’ve come,” she said, gesturing toward Artemis and her father, “for information.”
He seemed to see them for the first time.
“This is Doctor Schäfer and his daughter, Artemis. Doctor, this is, well, Javier.”
Smiling broadly, he reached out his hand.
Her father took it. “Javier …?”
The man shrugged again. “Just Javier. It is enough, no?” Then he shifted his attention to Artemis. “Bella.”
He took her hand gently in his and inhaled quickly as their fingers touched. Recognition came to his face and his smile managed to grow even wider. He stared at her for a long moment, still grasping her hand in his. “Fuego.”
His hands and his expression were so warm, Artemis felt another blush coming on.
Her father cleared his throat. “Yes, well ….”
Miss Ashcroft, amused by Javier’s antics and the reaction they engendered, couldn’t hide her smile, but she didn’t let it linger too long.
“We have a bit of a situation,” she said.
“Ah, a situation,” Javier said with a knowing smile. “It is well then that I am an expert at such things.”
“I hope you are in this case.” She took a few steps deeper into the store to avoid being overheard by anyone passing the shop, the others following. “You’re familiar with the Scepter of Heka?”
“The Museum of the British,” he said, shaking his head. “To display such a thing is foolish. Someone will not be able to resist such a thing.”
“Someone wasn’t.”
His casual demeanor changed then, and he drew up as he took in a deep, troubled breath. “It has been stolen?”
“Last night,” her father supplied. “By a very dangerous man.”
“Anyone who wields the scepter is a dangerous man,” Javier said solemnly.
That is hardly comforting, Artemis thought.
Miss Ashcroft took a step closer. “We fear that he has a powerful witch in his employ. She goes by the name Cailleach.”
Javier pursed his lips. “I do not know of a woman by such a name, but it is a powerful one. Was that she on Samhain?”
“We think so.”
He gave a low, impressed whistle.
“The man she works for is French. Alain Leroux.”
Javier’s expression soured as he thought back. “There was a man. French. He asked about a Gehenna Stone.”
“Oh, dear,” Miss Ashcroft said softly.
“What’s that?” Artemis asked.
“A Gehenna Stone is used for dark magic. It summons a demon from Gehenna or, as you know it, Hell, to help power the magic. It is not good.”
“What sort of magic?” Artemis asked, almost afraid to hear the answer. After what he’d done at Samhain, she shuddered to think what he might be up to now.
“Most probably animation,” he said. “Giving life to the lifeless.”
“Like corpses?” Artemis gasped.
He chuckled. “No, I do not mean that sort of lifeless. From things that have never borne life. To animate that which is without a soul.”
“Like the golem!” she said, turning toward her father.
“Similar, but …” Javier said. “A golem is animated by a rather simple spell placed upon a Shem, a piece of paper or tablet that brings the creature to life. The magic is not complex. Golem are dull and slow.”
Not as slow as you’d think.
Her father took an anxious step forward. “And you saw this man?”
“Two, perhaps three days ago. He came to my shop. I sensed something wrong with him. The glamour he wore was tinged with darkness.”
“Glamour?” Artemis asked.
“A spell to cover his disfigurement. I can see through them,” he added not too humbly. “It is one of my many gifts.”
So that explained why he appeared normal to her.
“Dark magic leaves a mark on the user. Everything they touch, no matter how pure the spell, has a stain upon it. His glamour was tainted.”
“Did you sell him the stone?” her father asked.
Javier put one hand to his chest in shocked dismay. “I would not sell such a thing to him or any man. There is no good that can come from it.”
“Can he get one anywhere else?”
He stepped a few agitated steps away before turning back. “Unfortunately, yes. Not all are as judicious as I, Doctor.”
That isn’t good.
“What kind of magic might he use it for?”
Javier ran a hand through his long hair. “I hate to think.”
“Force yourself,” her father said.
Javier barked out a laugh and looked at Miss Ashcroft. “I like him.” Then he took in a deep breath. “I cannot be certain. “But with the Gehenna Stone and the scepter together … he could …” He paused in thought again, pacing a few steps away. “He could give life to almost anything.”
Well, that certainly narrows it down.
“One thing is certain; whatever it is, it will be an abomination.”
Chapter Twenty-One
“Any luck?” Mrs. Perry asked from the end of the hall as they came through the front door.
Their dour expressions were all the answer she needed. “Right, then. Tea.”
With a swish of her apron Mrs. Perry headed back into the kitchen.
“You’re welcome to join us, or I can have Tommy take you home,” Artemis’s father offered Miss Ashcroft.
Her pleasant smile was subdued. “I think a spot of tea might do well right now.”
