The Magician's Dream (Oona Crate Mystery: book 3) (8 page)

Oona looked up. Both Mr. and Mrs. Shusher were looking at her.

Mrs. Shusher placed her hand on the sorting cart. “It seems she has found the books, Mr. Iree, so now you may return to your duties.”

“Yes, of course,” Adler replied, and made his way back to the cart.

Mrs. Shusher turned back to her husband. “Would you like to stay for lunch, Mr. Shusher?”

He shook his head. “No time, Mrs. Shusher. I’ll see you at home.”

He turned to go.

Mrs. Shusher said: “Don’t forget about the meeting tonight.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, and then disappeared through the library doors.

Mrs. Shusher closed her office door behind her.

Oona approached the counter and whispered: “Don’t you think it’s kind of strange that they call each other Mr. and Mrs. Shusher, even though they are married?”

Adler shrugged. “People are different.”

“That is true,” Oona said, “but what intrigues me even more is what they were hiding.”

Adler cast a look over his shoulder toward the hidden door. “I don’t know, but they sure clammed up when they realized we were listening.”

Oona nodded. She couldn’t help but imagine Mr. Shusher removing a red ruby from his pocket and burying it in a hole somewhere, or perhaps slipping it into a vase.

“Of course, they could have been talking about anything,” Adler whispered.

“True. But what could they be—” Oona stopped speaking as a thought came to her, a memory from the previous day.

“Shush, he’ll hear you,” she said.

“Who’ll hear me?” Adler asked.

Oona shook her head. “No. Those are the words the night watchman heard the female thief say to the male thief. The guard heard her say: ‘Shush, he’ll hear you.”

“Oh, I see,” Adler said, looking confused.

Oona could feel her arms begin to tingle with the excitement of discovering a clue. “What if the night watchman misheard the thief? What if the male thief actually said: ‘
Mrs. Shusher
, he’ll hear you’?”

Adler’s eyes went wide. “There’s something.”

Oona was nodding. “Yes, but we need proof.”

“Maybe you’ll find something about the Rose Knot in those theater books, and you can use it to tie the Shushers to the crime . . . no pun intended.”

Deacon laughed from Oona’s shoulder. “Very good, Mr. Iree.
Tie
them to the crime.”

But Oona did not smile. She wasn’t so sure that looking through the books was the best course of action. She was more inclined to follow Mr. Shusher and see if he might lead her to this elusive hiding place, but now it was too late. He was already gone, and it would be difficult to find him on the busy street.

And then, of course, there was the matter of why Mary Shusher had lied about her whereabouts on the night of the theft.

Perhaps they are all in on it together
, she thought.

It occurred to her that these people just might be the very criminals who had murdered her father, and a cold sensation washed over her. She blinked several times, trying to clear her head. “Well, we are here. Let’s finish going through those books.”

“I’ll have to leave that to you, Miss Crate,” Adler said, and cocked a thumb over his shoulder toward the librarian’s door.

The fact that he had used her last name did not escape her. She sighed. “Then I guess it’s up to you and me, Deacon. Let’s find that knot.”

The Second Test

Not a single reference to the notorious Rose Knot was to be found in the books on theater craft, and by the time they had searched through all of them, it was nearly three o’clock.

“We’ll be late,” Deacon said.

The two of them made a dash for it, descending both the library and museum steps two at a time. Samuligan waited dutifully for her atop the carriage to take them to the park. Ten minutes and one wild carriage ride later, Oona stepped to the curb at the park entrance.

Dressed in his long purple robes, Uncle Alexander was waiting for them beside the open gate. He nodded pleasantly to the people passing by, all of whom seemed quite interested to see the Wizard out and about. Oona considered him for a moment, this man whom had become like a father to her. Her guardian and teacher.

There was a slight sadness about his eyes that only the most astute observer might notice. Oona had seen that sadness in the reflection of her own face not too long ago, and yet the look had been a part of her uncle for as long as she had known him. Since even before the family deaths that had so affected them both. She wondered briefly where it came from.

Her uncle had been a single man for his entire life, she knew. Married to his work. She wondered if he had ever been in love. It was a question she had never thought to ask.

“Hello, Uncle,” Oona said.

“Ah, there you are,” he said. “Come along. We’re off to the pond.”

“Isn’t Samuligan coming?” Oona asked, and she cast a look over her shoulder toward the driver’s seat of the carriage. But Samuligan was nowhere to be found.

“He’ll be along,” the Wizard said unconcernedly.

Oona, however, was quite concerned, and she glanced warily around as they made their way toward the large sailing pond. She couldn’t help but wonder where the faerie servant might be lurking, and what mischief he had up his enchanted sleeve.

The Magician’s Tower was long gone, having been torn down after the contest, and the center of the park was once again nothing but a wide-open field of grass—a place where there had once been a tree. The tree had, of course, been
the
tree, an enormous fig that had fallen over three years ago in a fiery burst, crushing the life from Oona’s mother and sister as they sat beneath its shade and watched Oona perform her magic. The thought of performing magic here once again was daunting, and the fear of causing another catastrophe danced in and out of her mind like a mischievous sprite.

She shoved the thought aside, choosing instead to remind herself that another incident had happened here not so long ago . . . a certain kiss. The thought emboldened her.

“Have you ever been in love, Uncle?” she asked quite daringly.

The Wizard came to an abrupt halt, blinking several times as if the question had confused him.

He turned to her, a quizzical look on his face. “Why do you ask?”

Her face reddened, and she could only shrug. She certainly did not wish to disclose her feelings about Adler Iree. Not yet.

The Wizard peered at her for what seemed like a long moment . . . though in truth he seemed to be looking
through
her more than
at
her. Lost in memory.

“I have known love,” he said at last. “I experience it every day . . . though I suspect you mean, have I ever been
in
love with someone else. To that, I will simply say yes, but now is not the time to discuss old sweethearts. Come along.”

He once again took up his decisive stride, and Oona hurried to keep up, her mind racing with curiosity over whom the Wizard’s sweetheart might have been, and what had happened to her.

Not far from the spot where the tower had stood, Oona could see preparations being made for Molly Morgana Moon’s campaign rally. A stage had been erected, and a sign exclaiming
molly morgana moon for street council
hung between two trees.

Oona peered hard at the sign, thinking that it would be just like Samuligan to hide up there, forming himself into one of the letters on the sign or some such strangeness. But if he was there, she could not make him out, and they reached the edge of the pond without incident. Deacon’s head turned this way and that, as if he, too, were concerned about Samuligan’s whereabouts.

“We begin today’s test where we left off yesterday,” her uncle explained. “I will once again help you access the powers of Pendulum House, and this time you will use the magic to defend this.”

He pulled from his pocket a shiny metal ball.

“This,” he continued, “represents the World of Man.” Oona gave him a discerning look, and he held up his other hand as if surrendering. “All right, the World of
Humans
. Whichever you prefer. Anyway, when I say the word, Samuligan will have precisely three tries to get past you and get this.”

The Wizard placed the fist-sized metal ball on the ground where the grass met the edge of the water.

Oona looked eagerly around, expecting Samuligan to step from behind a nearby tree, but still, the faerie was nowhere to be seen.

She peered down at the ball, and a thought occurred to her. “How am I to connect with Pendulum House when we are miles away?”

Uncle Alexander raised an eyebrow at Deacon.

Deacon shifted uneasily on Oona’s shoulder. “I assure you, sir, I did teach her about such things.”

Oona started in surprise. “You did? Well, it must have been a long time ago, because I have no recollection of it.”

“It was one year ago, to be precise,” Deacon said knowingly. “But at the time, you had very little interest in magic, and were planning on giving it up completely.”

Oona’s gaze shifted briefly toward the center of the park, and she felt a tightening in her stomach.

“Nevertheless,” her uncle said, and spread his hands wide. “The Wizard may access the house’s magic wherever he or she goes, so long as it is done on Dark Street. Now, take this in your wand hand.” He once again handed her Oswald’s wand.

Oona felt nervous about having the wand out in the open. It was a very powerful magical object that Red Martin himself had tried to take from her.

Seeming to sense her unease, the Wizard said: “Don’t worry. While you are linked to the house, no one besides an extremely powerful magician or faerie would have a chance of taking it away . . . and Red Martin, as you know, is no magician.”

“But Samuligan is a powerful faerie,” Oona said.

Her uncle smiled. “And he may very well try to take it away from you. With him, you never know. Now take my hand with your free hand, and I will once again help you link with the house. Do you remember the incantation?”

Oona nodded, giving Deacon a sideways glance. “That, I do remember.” She took in a breath, and uttered:
“Profundus magicus!”

The sensation of connecting to an immense magical force was instant. And so was Samuligan’s attack.

***

He shot up out of the pond, his long black cloak and cowboy hat scattering water in every direction. Covered in moss and slime, Samuligan darted toward the pond’s edge, where the metal ball lay vulnerable and defenseless.

The World of Humans!
Oona thought.
He’s going to get it before I’ve even started.

But in that same instant, something else occurred inside of her. Not a thought . . . at least not her own. It was the power of the house pouring into her, and she suddenly understood that she did not need to think of something to do, because the house was going to think of something for her.

She raised the wand as Samuligan came splashing to the edge of the pond, his long faerie fingers groping for the metal sphere. She acted on instinct—or on the
house’s
instinct—it was terribly confusing to try to differentiate between the two.

She turned the wand upward toward her shoulder so that its tip touched Deacon’s chest. He cawed in surprise as Oona shouted:
“Ani voxsis!”

With a harrowing cry, Deacon launched from her shoulder like a bullet, claws engaged. He latched onto Samuligan’s wrist and hurtled upward.

Oona flicked her wand and Deacon soared toward the sky, Samuligan dangling beneath him. They flew high into the air and hovered just above the tops of the trees, and it occurred to Oona that the magic was imbuing Deacon with supernatural powers. No normal raven could possibly lift a six-and-a-half-foot-tall faerie from the ground, and as she watched Samuligan struggle to free himself from the raven’s iron grip, she noticed an aura of light surrounding Deacon. The light radiated from his wings in shimmering rays of yellow against the purple-blue sky.

She raised the wand above her head, whirling it in a circle, and Deacon followed the looping pattern, gaining speed. Tracers of light jetted out behind him like ribbons. Samuligan’s boots flew off in different directions, yet his cowboy hat remained remarkably secure upon is head.

At last Oona gave her wand a second flick and shouted:
“Fanissium!”

Deacon’s shimmery glow vanished, and his claws disengaged from the faerie’s wrist. Samuligan went flying. He tumbled through the air before landing quite nimbly in the topmost branches of a nearby tree. His eyes twinkled, his toothy grin as wide as the moon as he looked down at her and held up one finger.

“One try down,” the Wizard said, sounding quite pleased. “Very good, Oona. That was quick thinking, to enchant Deacon.”

Deacon settled himself on a low branch and ruffled his feathers. “You might have asked first!”

Oona shook her head. “Sorry, Deacon, but there was no time. And besides, I can’t say for sure that it was me who thought of it.”

The Wizard’s bushy eyebrows rose slightly, and Oona thought she detected a smile. “Yes, sometimes the house can act of its own accord, doing what it believes best. It brings up the question of who is the master, the magic or the magician. But that is a philosophical debate for another time. Samuligan still has two more tries to get past you. Remember, the World of Man is relying on you.”

“The World of
Humans
,” Oona said.

She glanced back toward the top of the tree to where Samuligan had landed catlike upon the upper-most branches. He was nowhere to be seen.

“That scoundrel,” Oona said. “Where has he gotten to?”

All seemed silent. Across the pond, she could make out what appeared to be several couples lounging on picnic blankets and staring in her direction. They had no doubt noticed the incident with Samuligan and were keen to see what was going to happen next. So was Oona. She tensed, casting anxious looks in every direction.

And then she heard it, a woman speaking very loudly. At first Oona could not make out what the voice was saying, but it was definitely getting louder, getting closer.

Oona whirled around and peered down the paved pedestrian path that led from the front gate to the pond. Coming down the path was a woman in a long white dress riding a bicycle. The feather in her hat wafted wildly in the breeze, and as she approached, Oona realized that the woman was riding quite fast.

As if responding to Oona’s thought, the woman cried: “Too fast! We are going much too fast!”

Oona’s face pinched in confusion. What did the woman mean by
we
?

And then the bicycle turned slightly, and Oona understood perfectly what the woman had meant. It was not a one-seater but a two-seater bicycle. The only reason Oona had not been able to tell earlier was because the bike was coming straight at her, and the rider on the rear seat was hunched over behind the woman and pedaling like a madman.

Except that’s no man
, Oona thought.
It’s a faerie
.

And she understood all too quickly what Samuligan was up to. Knowing that Oona would be reluctant to perform a powerful spell for fear of hitting an innocent pedestrian, he was using the woman as a kind of shield.

“When I said we could share the bike,” the woman called back to Samuligan in a high-pitched, panicky voice, “I thought you meant for a leisurely ride! Now please slow down, sir, or we’ll end up in the pond!”

But Samuligan did not slow down. If anything, his long faerie legs began pumping harder, and Oona had a suspicion that ending up in the pond, right next to the metal ball, was precisely what he had in mind, regardless of sending the frightened woman and the bike into the muddy waters.

“Oh, dear, this can’t be good,” Oona heard her uncle say beside her. He raised his wand, clearly meaning to stop Samuligan from going too far, but Oona put up her hand.

“No, Uncle, I have this,” she said, and aimed her wand at the bike tires. She waited.

“Now would be a good time,” her uncle advised her, and she could hear the tension in his voice.

“Wait,” Oona said. She continued to track the wheels with the tip of her wand, turning as the bicycle approached.

“Oh, dear, we’re going to crash!” the woman cried.

The front tire came up even with the water and Oona caught a glimpse of Samuligan’s grin from beneath his hat.