Bad Apple (The Warner Grimoire) (26 page)

Simon started for Churl but Kate was right there to block him. Nathan moved forward, stretching his face into a smile. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. We were just out enjoying the fresh morning air.”

Churl smiled back. “Of course you were.
Now stop
.”

“They’re only trying to help,” Kate said. “It’s clear the Council has lost interest in trying to find one of us who’s gone missing.”

“That is still undetermined.” Mr. Churl straightened his jacket. “We are still awaiting word from our own investigation whether Mr. Thatch has simply taken his leave of his burden.”

“Burden? He’s the only family I’ve ever known.” Simon clenched his fists. “He loves me.”

Mr. Churl frowned. “A regrettable fact, if you ask me.”

“No one is,” Nathan said. “How about you run along,
Junior
Officer Churl, and leave us to our morning walk.”

Churl shifted his weight. “Nothing would please me more. However, I am tasked with taking back your assurances that all this meddling has concluded.” He smiled. “I’m going to have to insist.”

“Lucky you,” Nathan said. “Are you going to just be our shadow, then? Make sure we stay off the grass, play all peachy with the other kids?”

“Nathan.” Kate said.

“Oh come now,” Churl said. “There’s no reason to be like that. I am merely doing my duty as a sworn officer of the council.”

“Must have forgot my manners this morning.” Nathan stepped in close. “So come on, Doug. I want to know: you plan to stick to us like the bug that you are?”

Mr. Churl leaned in. “Like the
wind to the wing
if I have to,” he snarled.

Nathan set his jaw. “Where I walk you won’t follow.”

“Try it.”

“Boys!” Kate said. “Enough.
Please
.”

“Yes, Nathan. Enough.” Mr. Churl sneered. Please. Drop this act, let us handle what there is to handle.”

“If I thought you could I wouldn’t have to,” Nathan said. “Maybe if your precious Council could pull its collective noses out of their own petty squabbles and power plays, they could see what’s happening.”

“Oh, we see what’s happening, all right,” Mr. Churl said. “You’re a cat’s whisker from banishment, Tamerlane. You push too hard, and you’ll see just what kind of shadow I can be.
STOP
.”

“Enough,” Kate said, stepping between them. “Both of you can stop. This isn’t helping anyone.”

Nathan gritted his teeth. “Doug.”

Churl turned to leave. “I think I’m done here. Nathan. Ms. Merrimoth, perhaps we will see each other tomorrow night.”

Kate stiffened “Perhaps.”

There was a long silence after Churl was gone. “Well, then,” Nathan said, “back to it, I suppose? Kate, you good?”

Kate gave Nathan a sidelong glance. “I think I’m done here too,” she said. “I’m heading back to the manor.”

“Kate--”

“No, Nathan. I’m done. I’ll see you tonight.”

“What’s going on?” Simon asked.

“You wouldn’t understand,” Nathan said gruffly, watching Kate leave. “Somedays I don’t think even I do.” He tossed his pebble into the pond. “You should probably get to the Archives.”

“Why?” Simon asked. “We’ve barely started.”

“Because she’s right. We should get you a list of basic spells and visualizations. Probably need to help clean up the mess you made, too.”

“You can’t just show me? I promise I won’t use
that word
again--”

“No,” Nathan said firmly. “Simon, do as I say. Go. I’ll meet you at the manor later.”

Simon hesitated for a moment, wondering what it was Nathan was keeping from him. “Is everything all right?”

“Simon, GO.”

“Okay.” He hesitated a moment, wanting to find the right words to say, but finding none. “Fine,” he finally said, and he left Nathan staring out into the pond, rounding around the small grove of trees as he made his way back up the path.

* * *

The front desk of the library was stacked high with books, many of them slightly singed and charred. Simon swallowed his guilt and began to look around for Penny. Malkin slept cozily on a large overstuffed chair near Mr. Nettle’s door.

A red tangle of hair bobbed over a nearby stack of books. Simon tried to smooth his hair. After the fire, he had found himself thinking of Penny, and he couldn’t help but sense a connection had been forged between them while they hid in her dad’s office during the fire. It might have just been his imagination, but just in case it wasn’t, he smoothed his hair and checked his nails. It was silly, preening behavior, and he knew it, but that didn’t stop him.

Penny came around the corner, her arms full of yet more damaged books. “Hey,” she said. “Can you help? All these books need to go to the Restoration Room.”

“Sure,” Simon said, grabbing an armload from the counter and following her. “Listen, I’m really sorry about the fire. I’m still learning a lot of, well, everything.”

“I understand,” she said, leading him into a side room filled with more charred books. “We all have to figure out what we’re going to be. It takes time. Believe it or not, this isn’t the first time there’s been a fire that caused a little damage.”

“You call this a little damage?” Simon asked, looking into the room. “There must be hundreds of books in here.”

“Nothing we can’t handle. Dad is a master binder. He and Jo will have these back in circulation soon enough.”

Simon was almost unnaturally relaxed around her. “Your whole family works here, don’t they?”

“We live here,” she said.

“What’s your mom do here? Does she do binding too?”

Penny set her stack of books down. “She did,” she said, her tone odd and flat. “She died last year from illness.”

His question could not have backfired any worse. “Oh,” he said, feeling his wind sputter out of him. “I’m...sorry.”

She looked hard at him, her eyes stony, like a wall. Then, her features slowly softened. She set her book down and crossed the room to a large bookshelf, where she found a large green book and tilted it forward. A section of the nearby bookshelf swung silently inward, revealing a small room beyond. The walls inside were made of cubby holes, each one stuffed with books and papers. “She used to read to me in here every night. We’d sit on the couch in the corner there,” she said, pointing at a large green couch with a rumpled yellow pillow and blanket tossed to the side. It looked freshly slept in. “This was our secret room.”

Shame throttled Simon. He had kicked a hornet’s nest. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, angry at himself for not having something smarter to say, something comforting that might undo the damage he had just caused. He heard Luke’s mocking laugh in his head.

“It’s okay,” Penny said. “Whenever I’m feeling afraid, or upset, I come in here. I still like to sleep in here, feels like she’s still close, you know?”

Simon did not.

Penny sat on the couch. Next to it was a dark red book, a little larger than a phonebook and the color of fresh blood. She picked it up. “This was her grimoire,” she said, holding up the book. “It was her mother’s, and her mother’s, back through the generations all the way back to the founding of the Order. It had all their secrets, every spell, every enchantment they ever uncovered. When she died the pages went blank, the magic reabsorbed back into the paper itself.” She smiled as she traced her hands over the blank cover. “‘
Every life is a story’,
she used to say. Everything she knew, it’s all in here, waiting to be rediscovered.” She was quiet a moment. “It’s almost like she’s still here, like she just left to grab an extra blanket or a cup of hot chocolate like she would in the winter.” She blushed. “I don’t even know why I’m showing you this. I just...” She locked her pale green eyes with him. “I haven’t really felt...close to anyone since she died. I guess, after last night, you and I...I mean...”

Simon’s heart began to pound in his ears. Whatever had happened, she felt it, too, and she could explain it to him, help him make sense of it. He stared at her as he felt his palms start to sweat.

She shook her head. “It’s stupid. Never mind,” she said, dropping the grimoire on the couch. He started to speak, but she was pushing him back out of the room, her hand firmly on his chest. She traced her fingers along the wall as she went, and after they were clear, the bookshelf slammed shut behind her.

They continued their work in silence. They made several more trips to the Restoration Room, stacking the books in multiple areas, until the room was almost completely filled. Jo sat behind the desk, eyeing Simon over another pile of silver gears every time he came for another stack of books. “The Bloody Bones really took it out of Dad last night,” she said as they were finishing. “Kept him awake until almost sunrise. His whole day is thrown off.”

“That was my fault,” Penny said. “I’m the one who let him out.”

“Gave poor Goody Neb an awful fright,” Jo said, never taking her eyes off Simon. “Thought it was Goodman Neb back from the World-That-Comes. Guess he wasn’t much to look at in life, to confuse him with that.”

“Jo!” Penny’s cheeks flushed with red. “I told you, I was the one who let it out. Blame me, okay?”

“Just looking out for you, Sis. Don’t want to see anything happen to you.”

“Jo!”

“All right, all right. You don’t have to bite my head off.” Jo stared at Simon over her pile of silver. “You. Nothing happens to her, got it?”

“Okay,” Simon stammered. “I won’t--”

“That’s right,” Jo said. “
You won’t
. Got it? Good.” Jo produced a box from under the counter. “We had some requests from the Frontier Order that need to go out this morning. Since Dad is still sleeping I’m running them down to the Transfer Depot. I should be able to catch them before they head out. Watch the front desk until I get back.”

Penny flushed. “Will do, Jo. Queen of Books.”

Jo smiled. “I shouldn’t be away too long. No more fires while I’m gone.”

Penny settled down behind the counter while she waited for her sister to leave. Once Jo was gone, she grabbed Simon by the wrist. “Follow me,” she said, leading him to the door to her father’s office.

“What are you doing?” Simon asked. “Can we go back in here?”

“You heard Jo--Dad’s asleep. I think I know what you’re looking for.” Penny dropped to her knees in front of the fireplace and began to sweep aside the ashes.

“Why are you helping me?” Simon suddenly said as she exposed a grate hidden in the fireplace under the ash.

Penny paused. “He’s your father, right?” she said, her face turned away from him.

“Yes, mostly. I’ve never known my real father, but Sam’s raised me my whole life.”

“Close enough,” she said. Her fingers found two holes in the floor of the fireplace, and with a small metallic
clunk
she pulled the metal grate cover free. “In here. Dad puts things in here he doesn’t want me to find. He doesn’t know I found it last year, after...Well, last year.”

Malkin appeared between Simon’s legs. The kitten cuddled his feet before the open grate stole her attention. Penny scratched her behind her ears with her free hand, while her other arm was plunged deep into the floor. “Here we go,” she said, sitting up. Her arm was covered in soot, but in her hand she clutched a twisted branch shaped like a wishbone. Two of the ends were wrapped in brown leather straps “Is this what you were looking for?”

Simon shook his head. “I was coming for a crystal your dad wears around his neck. He put it in his desk.”

“His crystal?” Penny tilted her head. “No...no it wouldn’t work.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re looking for someone who’s alive,” she said hesitantly. “My dad is a Master Scryer. You become one by forging an Esper crystal. It can find anyone anywhere. It’s tuned to everything alive, but after Mom died, he retuned it. He tuned it to her. He wears it, in case one day, he can...I mean in case she...” Her eyes glistened with tears. “It can’t do what you want, but if people found out he had retuned it--”

“I won’t tell,” Simon said quickly. He desperately wanted to change the subject. “So what is this stick used for?” he asked, hating how forced it sounded.

She held up the stick. At the center of it was an empty socket. Her voice regained some strength. “A dowsing rod. A tool for scrying--uses the ley lines of the earth. Works with crystals, because they’re of the earth, and you can tune them to a specific person or place. Like...my Mom.” She composed herself. “My Dad’s crystal won’t work for what you want though.”

Penny handed the staff over to Simon. It was almost as long as his arm, a dark wood with a smooth texture. One end of the stick bore an empty socket, a hole just big enough to insert a small rock. Roughly the size of a lucky rabbit’s foot--

“Wait a minute,” Simon said. Deep down, a loose, wild thought began to run rampant through his mind.

Penny looked at him quizzically. “What is it?”

Simon looked at the socket. “This uses crystals?”