CANIS MAJOR

19

THAT PAIR IS CLEARLY up to trouble,” Benjy grumbled as they watched Nathan Payne and the alderman head down an alley.

“Which means we have to follow them,” Hetty said.

Benjy was clearly troubled by this odd pairing, because instead of dissuading her, he held out his arm for Hetty to take.

With her arm hooked into Benjy’s, Hetty set a spell similar to what she had done at the Duval home earlier, but this time to cover him as well. As they walked, Hetty kept her spells going with ease. This was mostly because Payne and Anderson were in no great hurry, and soon enough they all arrived at an old warehouse. With the boarded-up windows and fading paint, it had the look of being abandoned, but this was obviously a façade.

Anderson and Payne went right to it and stepped inside.

Hetty and Benjy stayed outside, going around the perimeter until they spotted an open window. They crouched by it to eavesdrop on the conversation inside.

“Where is it?” Anderson was saying. “You were supposed to have it.”

Payne smirked and walked around the room, moving out of frame for a moment before stepping back in. “I got the goods. The potions you wanted, plus that little spellbook of yours. I got them set aside some ways back, if you want a look.”

“Then show us.” Anderson whistled. A few burly white men came around the corner, all falling in line behind Anderson.

Payne’s composure slipped for a moment, but he quickly flashed a smug smile.

“Follow me, gentlemen.”

The group left the building and headed down the street.

The moment they were out of sight, Benjy let go of Hetty’s hand.

“Keep watch.” He pulled the window open wider and climbed inside. “I’ll be right back.”

Hetty didn’t waste her breath trying to stop him. Instead, she caught the bottom of the window before he shut it. She met and held Benjy’s gaze until he lifted the window back up and helped her climb through.

They found themselves in a corner that was the sort of space where things just ended up instead of being purposely placed. A few broken chairs, a long table covered with empty bottles and a few cups. The air was heavy from the summer heat, unbearably sticky and reeking of sweat. All things that made it the perfect place to hide things that shouldn’t be there and do things no one should do.

Stairs looked to lead to a loft. Benjy climbed up, leaving Hetty to check the crates in the corners. The first boxes held ordinary goods​—​kettles, silverware, and the like. Nothing that looked like it was made of magic. But Benjy had crafted and mended magical objects before, so there was still a possibility. She let her spells slide around the room, trying to stir up something with her spell. Nothing happened, though, and she wasn’t sure if she was disappointed or not.

Hetty shut the lid and moved on to the next box.

Inside was nearly every item that Evie had told them about, plus a few things that weren’t mentioned at all. And in a long narrow box inside, she found a cache of finely crafted wands.

Never had Hetty seen so many wands in one place. Carved from a variety of woods, they ranged in colors from a pale brown to so light it was almost white, to a deep, dark brown of teak and mahogany. She didn’t recognize the types of all the woods used. She suspected they had to be from local trees in the area, though she couldn’t know for sure. The lore of wand-making was a shut door to her, and one she’d never had any desire to unlock. She was able to tell, however, that they were all made by the same person. On the end of each handle was the same insignia.

A familiar low whistle came from up in the loft.

After shutting the box, Hetty joined Benjy upstairs. She found him leaning over a table, flipping through a set of papers. There were more scattered papers on the table, and Benjy turned to those as he absently handed Hetty a page.

“This is just a set of numbers,” Hetty said.

“It’s a list to go along with this.”

He handed her another page. It was a listing of all the neighborhoods in Philadelphia, plus a few outlying places. Each one had a number that corresponded with the first list. But there was another column on the far right on the same page that immediately caught her interest. “Are these dates?”

Benjy ran a finger along the list. “They’re keeping track of the places they’re doing things. Could be fire, could be planting magic, could be other trouble.”

“Why write it all down?”

“Why not write it all down? It makes sure everything is going where it needs to go.”

Hetty grunted. “Is there a list of devious plans here too? That would be more helpful.”

“This isn’t a headquarters, but it is an important spot.” He pointed to the far wall. On it, painted in white, was an anchor.

Beware of the anchor, Darlene had said.

Hetty had thought it a mere warning at the time, but she should have known. Her friend was clever enough to warn about Beatty Hose but to do it in a way so as not to draw attention. She knew exactly what Hetty would do with such information.

A star-speckled crow landed on the table in front of them. It hopped around in a circle before disappearing in a soft pop of light. “Time to go, they’re coming back,” Benjy whispered.

Hastily they replaced all the papers they had picked up. Hetty started for the stairs, but it was too late.

The door had opened. Men filed inside, and in front was Nathan Payne. He rubbed his arm, his nose twitching as if he could smell magic in the air. He stopped and peered up into the loft.

His jaw visibly slacked when his eyes found them​—​but only for a moment. With a growl, he flicked his fingers and sent a blast of magic up into the loft. “Get your men to go around,” Payne called to Anderson. “You got some vermin poking about!”

More magic flew in their direction, preceded by muttered incantations. This time the magic was strong enough to take out a chunk of wood. But that was typical of Sorcery. It was stronger in raw power but weaker in range.

Up close, though, it would cause trouble.

Hetty wasn’t about to confirm this if she didn’t have to. Just as she prepared to run to the nearest window, Benjy strode forward and sent Taurus charging down into the group below.

Not to counteract any magic headed their way. No, he was foolishly attacking Payne, Anderson, and whoever else was down there.

Hetty watched in horror. This is how people got trapped!

She drew the Phoenix star sigil in the air. The mythical being made of stars and flames shimmered before her, filling with the potential of her magic. Clapping her hands, she sent it diving into the table. The spell ignited the list these terrible men had created to destroy her city, and ate away at everything else. The spark of flame quickly spread, filling the room with fire.

One look at the flames had Benjy running back toward her and the only exit available to them.

A burst of her magic shattered the glass of a window. She jumped out, twisting her spells to slow her landing.

Benjy landed harder on the ground next to her, but was already on his feet and running down the alley, leading the way out. Hetty ran after him, her boots pounding on the ground, the map Darlene made of the tunnels rustling in her pocket.

Alarm clamored in the air, as voices cried out for firemen.

Hetty wasn’t familiar with these streets in the daylight. At night, there were more places to hide and deeper shadows to give a person sanctuary.

Daylight was a different matter. In daylight, eyes turned to the street. Windows opened and people peered out, watching the ruckus as it unfolded.

And the faces that looked out were not friendly. There wasn’t any safe place in sight, not for a comfortable distance. Soon they would have to choose between fighting and attempting to escape.

But then a third choice descended upon them.

They had just turned a corner when the ground underneath them started shuddering.

Earthquake! Hetty thought, and grabbed for Benjy just as he grabbed for her. In the fleeting moments Hetty saw the wide-eyed surprise in his face. She was surprised too​—​Philadelphia was not known for earthquakes.

But this was no earthquake. The very ground they stood upon moved upward as if they were in a well, being drawn up in a bucket. Except instead of a slow and steady rise, they ascended rapidly until they were level with a roof.

“In here!” called a heavily accented voice. “This way!”

Hetty found she couldn’t move, couldn’t make the leap from the earth platform to the roof.

“Quickly!” the voice said.

Benjy swung her into his arms and carried her onto the roof and through a small door. The door shut behind them, muffling the yells from below on the street, some strangled swears, and the angry footsteps of people keen on finding their prey.

Benjy set Hetty back down on her feet, and they braced themselves for anything that might break through the closed door.

But then the voices retreated, the sound faded away, and the only magic around Hetty was her own.

“You are glowing,” said the white man who stood by the door they had come through. “How marvelous!”

There was such delight at seeing Hetty’s magic, her worries eased quite a bit.

The man’s hair and beard were two fluffy clouds of white, although his other features did not seem so old. His eyes were merry behind a small pair of spectacles perched on his nose, and as he spoke there was an uneven rhythm to his words, of an accent that was unfamiliar to Hetty’s ears.

“Who are you?” Benjy demanded.

“Someone who doesn’t like the fuss people make,” the man said. “Grigory Feinberg is my name.” He might have said more, but a trapdoor in the floor opened up, sending up more light and the sound of a young man’s voice.

“Father, those men are gone!”

“In that case, I will come downstairs with our guests.” He looked over at Hetty and Benjy. “You’ll be comfortable in the shop. Don’t say that you will hide up here. It is nonsense. The air is too heavy this time of year.”

Having little choice, they followed the man down into the shop, where Grigory’s son hastily closed the curtains.

Names were exchanged, but the son grunted and did not offer his hand to shake.

Turning back to Grigory, Benjy said politely, “We thank you for your help, but I wonder​—”

“Why help?” Grigory asked. “I heard the noise and knew I should.”

“Maybe we should have ignored it,” his son spat, glaring at Benjy. “This will bring those men to our door next.”

“You said nothing when I told you to help them,” Grigory replied as he sat on a bench.

“I cared only about fooling our heartless neighbors. I did not notice they were​—”

“Enough!” Grigory slapped the wall, rattling the toys resting on a nearby shelf. He said more, a stream of words in another language that turned the anger in his son’s face to shame. The young man muttered an apology to Hetty and Benjy before he stomped out of the room and back to the apartment above the shop.

The old man leaned back, pressing his fingers against his nose.

“Do not mind him,” Grigory said finally. “He thinks the Americans will like him if he does as they do. Bad thoughts and all. He will not bother us. Any trouble he brings to you will come to him too. Stay.” He gestured for them to take a seat. “Please. Those people will be out hunting for some time. Do not become their prey.”

“We know all about that,” Benjy said. He remained standing, positioned so his back was toward a wall, leaving him a clear view of both the windows and the closest door.

If their host noticed, he did not appear to care.

“I can tell,” Grigory said. “You ran, but not like rabbits. You weren’t afraid of the trouble.”

“Should we be afraid?” Hetty asked.

“I do not know. Unless you are thieves. But if you were thieves, help would not have worked.”

He pointed to a collection of tiny clay figures on a shelf.

What Hetty mistook for toys were clearly something more. Something far more powerful, with ancient traditions that traveled across a vast ocean and a cold, unforgiving land. Could such magic weigh a person’s soul to see if they were worthy of help? Anything was possible, she supposed. There were many traditions of magic in the world, many more than Hetty could ever possibly learn.

“Your magic is the stars,” Grigory said, interrupting her thoughts. “What can you do?”

At such a simple question, Hetty could only laugh. “I can do anything I wish!”

Grigory sat forward, and if she had any worries about his intentions, they faded as she recognized the curiosity in his brown eyes. “Tell me. Can you find things?”

“What do you wish to find?” Hetty asked.

“A thing. Several things, stolen from me.” Grigory stood up then, and walked around the counter.

He shuffled behind it for a bit and then returned with a box in hand. Once he was in front of them, he gently lifted the lid.

Inside was a wand.

“You can touch it,” Grigory said to them. “If it will help.”

Benjy picked up the wand, turning it over, but Hetty ran her gaze around the room, realizing what the dim lighting had initially hid from her.

This was a wand shop, and likely the very wand shop Evie had told them about.

“You’re a wandmaker.”

“Mender, maker, and seller.” Grigory bowed his head. “Fifth generation. For many years in my country, Christians did not make wands. They came to us for the mending and making. But here in America it is different. I make, I mend, but I cannot sell to certain people because of their color. I also have thieves.”

“You are not the only one,” Hetty said. “Magical items are being stolen all over the city.”

“Who does this?”

“No one knows for certain, but others have stories much like yours.”

Grigory shook his head. “No, not like mine. These wands are dangerous in certain hands. Some were not even complete when they were taken.”

“That’s the thief’s problem,” Hetty said.

“What of the innocent who bought them from this thief?”

Hetty felt the old scars around her neck prickle from an even older memory. “People always know what they are buying.”

“Yes,” Grigory said, looking her full in the face, his eyes sad. “That is a truth.”

“Did you mark the stolen wands?” Benjy asked, interrupting them. With care, he balanced the wand on the tip of his index finger. It teetered like a seesaw, gently moving up and down, but never falling.

“Not always. But I started when the thefts began. Why?”

Hetty glanced at the wand’s handle and recognized the mark there. “Because we know where your wands ended up!”