With a big smile on my face, I turned around, and what I saw stopped me cold.

  All the blood ran out of my head. I went tingly and numb all over. My mouth was drier than if I’d just eaten a fistful of hot desert sand.

  Lady Hildegarde stood in the courtyard, eyes blazing, with her wand pointed straight at me.

  Chapter 25

  I didn’t have time to blink, let alone explain what I was doing. One second I was staring into the furious face of our coven’s High Adept and the next second I was flat on my back, totally unable to move.

  My arms stretched high overhead, and my legs were ramrod straight. I tried to talk, but my lips and tongue were just as paralyzed as the rest of me. I couldn’t even blink against the huge fiery sun in the sky. The only muscle in my whole body that seemed to have been spared was my diaphragm muscle because I could, thankfully, still breathe. But that was all I could do. I couldn’t swallow either, and soon there was a thin runner of drool hanging off the side of my mouth.

  And we were moving. Using her magic, she’d restrained me, and now she was basically dragging me somewhere. Probably to employ enhanced interrogation techniques.

  I couldn’t talk to plead my case, to explain myself. Though even if I could have talked, I’m not sure what I could have said in my defense. At least, what would sway Lady Hildegarde’s opinion of my crime. Because I’d definitely committed a crime—you cannot use magic to coerce or trick someone into doing something they wouldn’t normally have done. Which is sometimes tricky to prove, but this was an open-and-shut case. I wanted his book, he wouldn’t give it to me, so I used magic to trick him into handing it over.

  This paralyzed, bumpy, often painful drag across the hot ground was making me feel like a horrible person.

  Lady Hildegarde dragged me all the way to the road and then with a flick of her wrist, I was lifted a few inches off the ground so I wouldn’t get third-degree burns from the hot asphalt. Tears welled up in my eyes as our High Adept showed casual mercy to someone she most likely thought was a killer.

  When we arrived at her car, she flicked her wrist once more, only this time her mercy wasn’t as gentle. I was flung upright, then headfirst into the backseat of her car. She slapped my face with her wand and commanded, “Speak!”

  “It’s Francie!” I said as soon as I regained control of my mouth.

  “Francie?” she said.

  “I swear it,” I said. “I used the Presto-Chango-Disguise-o-Tron 14.”

  “Presto-what-o?” she asked. “Okay, now I know you’re full of it. You expect me to believe that? Might as well tell me your story about Mirror Land too while you’re at it.”

  “No,” I said. “The Jibbleson sisters made the device. It’s in my purse, right here on my shoulder. I was trying to get this book from Brownell.”

  She considered. “That’s a likely story,” she said. “Possible, sure. But it’s also possible that you used the mirror to shapeshift into a copy of me and now you’ve made up this story that you’re Francie.”

  “I am Francie, ask me anything,” I said.

  “Why did you want that book?” she asked. “And when does your enchantment wear off?”

  “It wears off on its own,” I said. “Probably pretty soon, too.”

  “You didn’t answer my first question,” she said.

  The muscles of my eyes were still paralyzed. I stared straight up at the roof of her car. There was a little crack in the dome light cover and the soft felt liner was peeling back on the edge of the window.

  “It’s important,” I said. “It was Konrad’s.”

  “And you needed it for your little murder investigation?” she said.

  Was she giving me an out or was she baiting a trap?

  “No,” I said. This was it. Time to either come up with a good lie or come clean about the cursed books. Telling her about the cursed books would probably mean blowing Hortensia’s cover and she’d have to leave town—and I wasn’t sure I could handle that.

  A huge truck barreled around the bend in the road. I couldn’t see, but could hear the roar of its huge motor as it approached at lightning speed, then faded away as it raced downhill. “Good grief,” she said. “Some people act like the speed limit is a mere suggestion. I’m taking you back to my office. And then I want to hear everything.”

  - - -

  During the drive, my enchantment wore off, and I regained my proper appearance. I discovered, too, that not only were my muscled paralyzed, but my vim was paralyzed too. The spell Lady Hildegarde used prevented me from using the tiniest bit of magic. I couldn’t even call for Kong.

  When the car stopped and she opened up the back door, she stared at me for a moment. “So it really is you,” she said. “What on earth were you doing? I almost killed you. I assumed you were the shapeshifter that killed Konrad LaRue.”

  “Sorry,” I said.

  “Sorry will not be sufficient,” she said. “The only thing that might begin to clear up this mess is a full confession.”

  “I’ll explain,” I said.

  She held up a finger. “Wait. In my office. After you’ve drunk a truth serum.”

  Gulp.

  She smacked my legs with her wand, and the feeling came back. “Get up and walk to my office,” she said.

  “Can you do my eyelids too?” I asked. “I haven’t blinked in forever. My eyeballs are like two raisins.”

  “Your eyeballs will be the least of your worries,” she said.

  “No,” I said. “My eyeballs will always be pretty high on my list of priorities. Right near the top.”

  “You’re already making me regret undoing the spell on your mouth,” she said, but she tapped her wand across my brow and I squeezed my eyes shut, never more thankful for the darkness.

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “Save it,” she said. “You might feel like cursing me, depending on how our conversation goes—and the punishment I decide for you.”

  She held the Antonello book under her arm as we marched toward her office.

  “Lady Hildegarde? Francie?” I would have turned my head, but I still couldn’t move the muscles of my upper body. I didn’t need to, though. I knew that voice.

  “Professor Buttonwood,” Lady Hildegarde said. “I’m rather busy at the moment.”

  “That’s my book!” Professor Buttonwood said. “Francie, you got it for me! Thank you!”

  A little gurgle of confusion escaped Lady Hildegarde’s perfectly composed lips. “This is your book?” she asked.

  “Yes,” Professor Buttonwood said. “It’s very dear to me. It was my grandmother’s.”

  “And how did it come into the possession of Konrad LaRue?” Lady Hildegarde asked.

  “A few months ago, I’d asked him to restore a few of the pages. He was almost done, but then he died.”

  “I see,” Lady Hildegarde said. “And you asked Francie to retrieve it from Brownell Baxter?”

  “Well, I didn’t know Baxter had it,” Professor Buttonwood said. “Francie must have tracked it down.”

  “Is this true?” Lady Hildegarde asked me.

  “Brownell bought several books from Konrad LaRue’s widow. When I asked her about this book, she told me she sold it to Brownell. I asked him about the book yesterday, but he was ranting about tree-people and wouldn’t give me the book. So I came up with this plan. I realize it was dishonest, but I didn’t know what else to do. I couldn’t reason with him.”

  “You could have told your little boyfriend,” Lady Hildegarde said.

  “That’s exactly why I didn’t,” I said. “Comments like that. I didn’t want people thinking that he was using his position to do favors for me.”

  “I suppose he’d do a big favor for you, which is refuse to arrest you for this little stunt,” Lady Hildegarde said.

  “He probably would arrest me,” I said. “Especially if you asked him to.”

  She smiled, and there was actual amusement in her eyes. “I bet he would,” she said. “He’s honest. Okay, Professor Buttonwood, you may have your book. Francie? I will let you off with a warning that if you do anything else even remotely untraditional with your magic again, I’ll see that Rend arrests you.”

  “Understood,” I said. “Thank you for being reasonable.”

  “And one thing,” she said. “Where’s the little disguise-thing you mentioned?”

  “Right in my purse,” I said. It was still slung over my shoulder from earlier. She reached inside and rooted around for a moment before yanking it off my arm and dumping the entire contents on the ground.

  “What does it look like?”

  “Like a lipstick,” I said.

  “This?” she asked, holding it up in front of me. “How does it work?”

  “You point it at yourself and push the button,” I said.

  “And how do you control who you shapeshift into?”

  “It’s just an enchantment,” I said. “But you don’t control it. It’s pre-loaded with a hundred different enchantments. Try it.”

  “Not a chance,” she said. “If the Jibbleson sisters made it, it’s liable to explode.”

  Fair enough.

  She dropped it back on the concrete, but before I could say anything, she ground it to tiny pieces with the heel of her pointy black boot.

  “All done,” she said. “You are free to leave.” She smacked my shoulders with her wand and the rest of the paralysis left me. She strode toward her office, leaving me to pick up the contents of my purse. But it was a small price to pay, so I wasn’t complaining.

  “What was that all about?” Professor Buttonwood asked.

  “I’ll tell you in a minute,” I said, then lowered my voice. “She could be listening.” Professor Buttonwood nodded and then helped me pick up the rest of my things.

  “I don’t know about you,” she said. “But I could use a stiff drink after that.”

  “Me too,” I said. “And perhaps a clean change of underwear.”

  Chapter 26

  I sat in Professor Buttonwood’s living room, an icy bottle of beer in my hand—the stiffest drink I dared while the sun was still up.

  “Thanks for helping me out,” I said finally.

  “Don’t be,” she said. “Lady Hildegarde is always on a power trip. I didn’t know what you were up to, but I assumed it couldn’t have been that bad. Couldn’t have been… what’s the legal phrase? A crime of moral turpitude.”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “I was trying to get this book from Brownell B. Baxter and I disguised myself as Lady Hildegarde to trick him into giving it to me.”

  “I gathered as much,” Professor Buttonwood said.

  “How did you know?” I asked. “Every question Lady Hildegarde asked, you knew the answer to.”

  “Not at all,” she said. “I didn’t know what was going on. And you were probably too panicked to be paying attention, but she asked me very leading questions. She explained everything to me as we went along. I took a gamble on the book, because Lady Hildegarde was holding it protectively. I assumed it had to do with the matter at hand, otherwise why carry it during such an important disciplinary matter? Then it was all downhill from there. She said, ‘Is that your book’ and ‘How did Konrad get it’ and ‘So you asked Francie to get it for you.’ All I had to do was agree.”

  “You’re very perceptive,” I said.

  “You have to be when dealing with potions. You have to wait and watch. The slightest variants can cause tremendous changes. New interactions can appear when you least expect it. It’s part of my trade, my dear.”

  “And no one’s more glad of it than me,” I said.

  “Now, the matter of my payment,” she said. “I want to know everything. Start to finish.”

  So I told her everything.

  Everything.

  From the cursed books to the amulet. The only thing I left out was Hortensia. The old witch was a fugitive, and it wasn’t my place to divulge her true identity.

  “Interesting,” she said. “I’ve always heard the rhyme about those books, but never would have guessed they were real.”

  “They’re real,” I said. “And you’re holding one of them.”

  She set it down on the coffee table, as if her hands would catch fire from a curse.

  “I don’t think any of the books can hurt you, unless you read them,” I said.

  “Such is the power of the written word,” she said. “Okay, so take the book. I’m glad you got it away from Brownell before he could hurt himself. I’ve passed my verdict. No crime of moral turpitude was committed.”

  “Thanks,” I said.

  “The only thing you’re guilty of is pretending to be the High Adept without inviting me along. I could have used the laughs.”

  “It was pretty fun,” I said. “I got into the role.”

  “I’ll bet,” she said.

  “Now it’s your turn,” I said, taking a drink. “You said you were going to tell us why you were meeting with Konrad at Saffron. Was it a date?”

  “A date?” She seemed truly surprised by the suggestion. “He’s married. And at least fifteen years younger than me. No, not a date. It was business. I had a copy of The History of Cauldron Manufacture in the Bronze Ages and I was interested in selling it. It’s a rare old thing and holds no sentimental value for me. I bought it on a whim and never looked twice at it once it was on the shelf. I brought it to Saffron so he could take a look.”

  “And?”

  “He barely looked at it. He looked at the cover and then glanced at the title page and said it was a forgery.”

  “How did he know?”

  “He said it was the leather. He said it didn’t feel right for a book from eighteenth-century Mongolia.”

  “You bought a counterfeit copy?”

  “I’m embarrassed to say that I did. And it wasn’t cheap. Makes my blood boil just thinking about it.”

  “Where did you get it?” I asked, thinking she’d gotten it online or at a garage sale.

  “From a reputable dealer,” she said. “Radislav Smolenski in Diablo Canyon.”

  “I’ve never met him,” I said. “I’d have remembered the name.”

  “You’d remember the man, too,” she said. “He’s built like a refrigerator. Six feet tall, wide as a doorjamb, pure muscle, bent nose. He used to be a boxer. I was at a conference out there once and visited his bookshop on a lark and came out with the cauldron book.”

  “Did you tell him that the book was a forgery?” I asked.

  “I wanted to,” she said. “At Saffron even, I pulled out my phone to call him at once. I wanted my money back, but mostly I wanted to let him know. If he was foolhardy enough to have bought a forged book, he might have more on his shelves ready to sell to unsuspecting nitwits like myself.”

  “You don’t think he sold it on purpose?” I asked. “Or that he made it himself?”

  “Not him,” she said. “Truth be told, he doesn’t seem very bright. He was a boxer, as I’ve said, and only took over the family business when his father died. The most strenuous reading he does is probably Ikea instructions.”

  “To be fair, those are pretty strenuous,” I said.

  “That they are,” she agreed.

  “What did Konrad do when you told him where you got the book?”

  “He nodded and commiserated with my plight. Then he asked if he could have the book, to study the forgery. He said, ‘This is it, it’s exactly what I need.’ So I let him have it. What do I want with a fake book?”

  So where was the book now? It wasn’t at his house—I’d looked at his shelves and didn’t remember seeing that title. It wasn’t on the list of books that Brownell Baxter had purchased either. And he didn’t have any books on his person when he was killed.

  Konrad had taken the book, that was for sure. Had he wanted to study the forgery, to improve his own counterfeiting skills? Or had he meant to take it to the pawn shop and make a quick buck selling Maldiva another forgery?

  I thought about what she’d said. She’d just introduced a new player into the forged book game. I wasn’t sure how this fit into Konrad’s death just yet, but I knew it was related. It all went back to these forged books. I just had to get these pieces together. It was like that fiendish jigsaw puzzle at Saguaro Estates. I kept trying different combinations, rotating and swapping out pieces, but nothing seemed to come together, no matter how hard I tried.

  “Thanks for telling me about it,” I said. “And thanks for getting Lady Hildegarde off my back. I was going to have to tell her about the cursed books and she probably would have had me committed to the asylum.”

  “I don’t know about that,” Professor Buttonwood said. “Believe it or not, she’s a fair-minded witch with that sort of thing. She would have fired you, though, for keeping that a secret. She’s a stickler for the rules. Mostly because they’re her rules.”

  “I get it,” I said. And I did. It meant that I had to find and destroy all six books without Lady Hildegarde ever finding out. One slip and Professor Buttonwood was right—I’d lose my job at the Archives and probably worse. If Lady Hildegarde found out, she’d have me exiled from the coven altogether.

  Chapter 27

  By the time I finished talking with Professor Buttonwood, I was mentally exhausted. I might have had an uncharacteristic second beer, which temporarily perked up my spirits a bit, but ultimately left me feeling lethargic and lazy. Now was not a good time to go opening up portals into the void, so I went back to the Archives instead. Professor Buttonwood had given me a new lead, and I needed to follow up on it.

  Whitney was helping today, and she knew instantly that something was wrong when I walked behind the circulation counter. I couldn’t tell her about the Antonello book, but I told her about Professor Buttonwood and her meeting with Konrad at Saffron.

  “I wonder how many of these fake books are in circulation,” Whitney said.

  “Hopefully none of the ones in our special collections,” I said. I hated the prospect of getting our rare books authenticated, but Whitney was right. Unscrupulous book dealers were making a lot of money selling forgeries, and the Archives might have been victimized along with the rest. I still couldn’t believe that Konrad had been taking part in such a dishonest scam. Now I needed to find out if he’d been working alone or as part of a larger criminal racket.

 

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