The Toymaker's Curse (Glass and Steele Book 11) Read online

  I stayed silent. I didn’t want to dampen his enthusiasm and remind him what could happen if those against magic had the loudest voices. He was right in that this could very well be an exciting time. But it was also worrying.

  The butler opened the door and Matt strode ahead, down the front steps to the carriage.

  Fabian touched my hand to halt me. “Why is he dressed like that? Is it a game you like to play?”

  I laughed. “Something like that.”

  He kissed the back of my hand. “You are very tolerant of his strange American ways.”

  That only made me laugh more.

  I called on Catherine the following day, but Ronnie told me she wasn’t at work. Their eldest brother was ill so she’d gone to help her father in the family shop. I found her there with both her parents and the youngest brother, Gareth.

  Mr. and Mrs. Mason greeted me cordially, if a little stiffly. Catherine enveloped me in a warm hug, and Gareth flashed me a grin that no doubt melted the girls’ hearts. Of the four siblings, he was the rogue, the one with the handsome face and easy manner, but the least discipline. His parents and older siblings despaired of him. I was surprised to see him in the shop. Usually he was out with the local troublemakers, in between running the occasional errand for his father. He appeared to be working, although he could have just been filling in time until something more interesting came along.

  “How wonderful to see you, India,” Catherine said. “How is everyone at home?”

  “In excellent health, thank you. Is Orwell all right?”

  “He has a head cold,” Mrs. Mason said.

  “It’s just a little cough,” Gareth told me. He grinned again, but this time it was more playful. “So how’s the big pirate, India?”

  Catherine glared at him. Mr. and Mrs. Mason pretended not to be listening.

  “Nate is well,” I said, using Cyclops’s real name. “He’s almost finished his police training. He was able to skip a lot of it on account of his experience. The rest has come easily to him, particularly memorizing all the laws.” I decided to end it there. Any more and my enthusiasm might come across as forced.

  I hoped for some guidance from Catherine as to how she wanted to proceed. Continue talking about Cyclops or leave the subject altogether? She had told us she had a plan that would see her parents accepting him, but if that plan was in motion, she didn’t have the opportunity to tell me.

  It was her father who broke the silence. “Go on, Gareth. You’ve dawdled long enough. That clock won’t deliver itself.”

  The youth scooped up a box from the counter and tucked it under his arm. As he passed me, he winked. He opened the door but had to step aside as a man pushed past him as if he weren’t even there. With his head bowed and hat pulled low, perhaps he hadn’t seen Gareth.

  Gareth made a rude hand gesture behind the man’s back then left.

  “Come in out of the cold, sir,” said Mr. Mason. “How may I help you?”

  The man looked up and my heart sank to my toes. It wasn’t a customer. It was Mr. Abercrombie.

  I tried to think of a polite way to excuse myself before he saw me, but it was too late. His sleek moustache twitched with dislike upon seeing me. Beneath it, his lips stretched with an unconvincing smile.

  “I didn’t know you were still friends with the Masons,” he said.

  “Why would you think that?” Catherine asked before anyone could respond. “Some may think me silly, but I can assure you, I am not fickle. India is my best friend and always will be.” She hooked her arm through mine. “Good day, Mr. Abercrombie. We were just leaving.”

  “Wait.” He removed Oscar’s book from his coat pocket. “I assume you’ve read it, Mrs. Glass?”

  “Yes,” I said carefully. What was he getting at?

  He tucked it back into his pocket and removed his pince-nez. He placed it on the end of his nose, wrinkling it so that it stayed on. With his slicked hair and sharp features, he looked like a rat that had just crawled out of the sewer. “You should tell your kind to be careful.”

  I bristled.

  “Why?” Catherine asked.

  “Honest, hard-working craftsmen are angry. We won’t stand by and see our livelihoods suffer because of the likes of you, Mrs. Glass.”

  I took a step closer to him. Despite my rapidly beating heart and pounding blood, I smiled as serenely as possible. “Mr. Abercrombie, I do sympathize with all honest, hard-working men, but you are not one of them. You rode on the coattails of your name until your wealthy and titled connections learned that the quality of your timepieces had diminished since you took over the family business.”

  The muscles in his face moved all at once as if in a battle with each other. “Your father cheated! Your grandfather too!”

  “Magic isn’t cheating. It’s a gift some are born with, just like beauty or intelligence.”

  He scoffed.

  I walked off. “If I were you, I’d concentrate more on regaining your lost reputation than worrying about me. This obsession you have with me will ruin you.”

  “Obsession? Ha! And it will be you who are ruined. You’re a witch. Do you know what they did to witches in the past?”

  Despite every fiber of my being screaming at me to turn away, to ignore him, I stopped near the door. “Thankfully we live in a more enlightened era.”

  “Do we? Or are we a mere step away from locking witches up and throwing away the key?”

  My bones chilled. I knew from his slick smile that my face showed that his words rattled me. As much as I wanted to appear calm and unfazed, I could not hide my apprehension. He could very well be right.

  “Get out!” Mrs. Mason snapped. “Get out of our shop!” At first I thought she was speaking to me, but her cold gaze bored into Mr. Abercrombie. She flapped her hands at him, shooing him.

  “Pardon?” he spluttered.

  “You heard my wife.” Mr. Mason came around from behind the counter. “Leave this instant. You are not welcome here anymore.”

  Catherine opened the door and smiled at him.

  Mr. Abercrombie sniffed. With a final glare for me, he scuttled past us and hurried along the pavement with short but brisk strides.

  Catherine slammed the door closed. “Good riddance.” She dusted off her hands as if she’d personally thrown him out.

  Mrs. Mason drew me into a hug as warm as her daughter’s had been. “Be careful, India. You must promise me you’ll watch out for people like him.”

  I hugged her back, more fiercely than I ever thought I could hug her again. Despite her fear that I would bring danger to her door because of my magic, she was a long-time family friend. She would always look out for me, for my parents’ sakes.

  I took great delight in telling the others after dinner how the Masons threw Mr. Abercrombie out of their shop. “It was extremely satisfying to see the shock on his face.”

  “Wish I’d been there,” Cyclops said without looking up from his cards. We’d retired to the drawing room after dinner. Willie, Cyclops, Duke and I played poker, while Matt, Chronos and Aunt Letitia read.

  “Seems you don’t have much to worry about with the Masons no more,” Duke said to Cyclops.

  Cyclops dealt more cards to Duke after he discarded two. “What does throwing Abercrombie out have to do with them accepting me?”

  “It means they’re good folk.”

  “I know they’re good folk.”

  “But they haven’t accepted you yet.”

  “Don’t mean they’re not good folk. They’re just thinking about Catherine’s future and how hard it will be for her if she’s with me.”

  Duke sighed. “You’re too nice all the time. It’s getting real irritating.”

  Willie threw down her entire hand, giving up. “Aye.”

  Both Duke and Cyclops pulled out of the round too, which meant I won. I raked in my winnings and added the matchsticks to my pile.

  I looked to Matt, seated beside his aunt on the sofa. He was reading a newsp
aper while she dozed off, a book open on her lap.

  Chronos sat on another chair by the fire, also reading. His book kept him wide awake. “This isn’t a bad read. The chapter written by Nash lacks something, however. The fellow sounds like a lecturer of history.” He chuckled. “But Barratt’s chapters are engaging. He’s a good writer with a style that appeals to the masses. It’s no wonder the book is flying off the shelves.”

  “I hear it’s going to have another print run,” Cyclops said.

  My grandfather was clearly pleased to see magic being openly debated. When it came to magic, he was keen for its possibilities to be explored, for the ancient wonders of it to be brought to life once again. If he had his way, not only would magicians live freely, we’d be creating new and spectacular spells every day, consequences be damned. Sometimes I admired him for his childlike wonder, but mostly I worried what he would do next.

  I abandoned the game and took a turn about the room to stretch my legs. “Have you stopped selling the extension spell to other magicians?” I asked him.

  “I have,” he said.

  “Can you look at me when you say that?”

  He sighed and set down the book. “You’re more overbearing than your grandmother, sometimes.”

  “I’m proud to be like her,” I shot back, just to irritate him.

  “I have stopped selling the extension spell to other magicians. Happy now?”

  “Yes.”

  He returned to the book. “How is Charbonneau?”

  “He’s well, although the theft of our spell from his house upsets him still.”

  “I wouldn’t worry if I were him. He would have made copies.”

  “He claims he didn’t. Anyway, that’s not what worries him, or us. We’re worried about others using the spell for nefarious purposes.”

  “None can. No magician is strong enough to use it except on their own craft, which is very limiting.” He smiled up at me. “None are as strong as you, India. You have Steele blood flowing through your veins.”

  I smiled. Praising my abilities as a magician was the closest he ever came to showing he was proud of me. Hoping it were otherwise would only lead to disappointment on my part. I’d learned that months ago.

  “Coyle must hate this book,” Chronos said, turning the page. “That’s reason enough to hope it sells well. He must be worried his collection’s value will drop.”

  Matt joined us and leaned against the mantelpiece. “If anything, it will increase. The more people who desire magical objects, the higher the price he can demand for the items in his collection.”

  “But he doesn’t want to sell them,” Chronos said. “He simply wants to covet them, and show them off to a select few friends.”

  I nestled into Matt’s side and rested a hand on his chest over his heart. “I think Coyle covets information more than his collection. Now that information about magic is more readily available, he loses a little more of his power.”

  I wondered yet again about the connection between Lord Coyle and Sir Charles Whittaker. Although Sir Charles denied it, he had certainly shared information about me with Coyle. We’d heard him.

  Matt kissed my temple. I tilted my head up and he kissed me on the mouth.

  Duke made a sound of disgust in his throat. “You two make a man want to go out and get drunk.”

  Willie clapped him on the back as she passed him, heading for the sideboard. “Sounds good to me. What about you, Cyclops?”

  Cyclops looked like he was about to decline but changed his mind. “All right.”

  Willie let out a whoop. “It’ll be almost like old times. Matt, you want to make it four?”

  “No thanks,” he said. “Why not invite Brockwell?”

  She shook her head so vigorously it was in danger of rolling off her shoulders. “No lovers allowed.”

  “What about Farnsworth?” Duke asked.

  She stamped a hand on her hip. “Didn’t you just hear what I said?” She tossed her head and marched out of the drawing room.

  We all stared after her, jaws dropped. She and Farnsworth were lovers?

  Aunt Letitia’s eyes suddenly opened and she smiled. “I knew it.”

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  Also by C.J. Archer

  SERIES WITH 2 OR MORE BOOKS

  Cleopatra Fox Mysteries

  After The Rift

  Glass and Steele

  The Ministry of Curiosities Series

  The Emily Chambers Spirit Medium Trilogy

  The 1st Freak House Trilogy

  The 2nd Freak House Trilogy

  The 3rd Freak House Trilogy

  The Assassins Guild Series

  Lord Hawkesbury's Players Series

  Witch Born

  SINGLE TITLES NOT IN A SERIES

  Courting His Countess

  Surrender

  Redemption

  The Mercenary's Price

  About the Author

  C.J. Archer has loved history and books for as long as she can remember and feels fortunate that she found a way to combine the two. She spent her early childhood in the dramatic beauty of outback Queensland, Australia, but now lives in suburban Melbourne with her husband, two children and a mischievous black & white cat named Coco.

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