Page 23 of Heir of Uncertain Magic

“Oh.” Hulda reached into her bag. “That is, I have it. I meant to replace it.”

And mark that the house is no longer enchanted,Merritt thought. She hadn’t, yet. Her way of buying time. Not surprising. He wished he could speak to her mind the way he did to Owein’s, but human-to-human mental communication fell under psychometry, not communion.

Hulda handed Baillie the file, which he tucked under his arm. “You do have the legal right to protest, of course,” Baillie went on, face slack like it’d been sculpted by a bored artist, “but it cannot be formally done until BIKER is reorganized. Might I suggest you stay out of the way so that our work might be finished sooner rather than later?”

If Merritt had hackles, they would have risen at the statement. And this guy was a candidate for Myra’s replacement? If Baillie took the job, Merritt would thank the Lord that Whimbrel House was now an ordinary home and he’d have no reason to ever interact with the man again.

Though he still might, with Hulda being employed here. Unless he could convince her to switch jobs or leave the field altogether, but he highly doubted she’d be keen on either idea.

“Seventy years,” Merritt muttered.

Baillie raised an eyebrow. “Pardon?”

Merritt folded his arms. “Seventy years since the United States became a sovereign nation, with its own rules and laws. Remind me, again, which American university you got your degree from?”

Baillie offered a closed-lip smile that barely tilted his lips enough to be called one and pressed past Merritt, heading in the direction of the library, if Merritt remembered correctly. Drawing in a deep breath, Merritt turned for the stairs. Paused and glanced back to MissRichards. “Water that damn plant.” He jerked a thumb toward the fern and took the stairs down, Hulda close behind him. She didn’t speak until they reached the main floor.

“You need to control yourself,” she murmured. “People don’t respond well to vitriol.”

Merritt turned to her. “I wasn’t using vitriol. I was beingclear.” He shook his head, then rubbed his temples. “Are you notangry?”

“I am.” The cords in her neck looked ready to snap. “Of course I am. But I have to handle everything carefully for the sake of the position.”

Merritt sighed. “Walker wasn’t even around.”

“Mr.Walker doesn’t live in a bubble. Both MissRichards and Mr.Baillie report to him.” She pressed a knuckle into her chin, thought for a moment, then dropped her arms. “It’s just ... I saw Beth as she was leaving. Shedidgo willingly.” That much she’d explained earlier. “But she seemed confused.”

Merritt rubbed his eyes. He was so tired. Worry over Beth had only added to the nightly discourse that kept him awake. “I would have been, too. She came here expecting she might be gone overnight, not forever.”

“Not forever. But ...” Hulda clicked her tongue. “I don’t know how to say it.Veryconfused.” Huffing, she put her hands on her hips.

Merritt hesitated. “Like chaocracy confused?”

Hulda scoffed. “No. It’s ... hard to explain. She seemed focused, but as though she had a headache or perhaps an attack of vertigo, although shedidwalk straight. Couldn’t spare a moment to chat, even though it’s most unlike her to be brusque ... See what I mean? I can’t properly express it. If I were Myra, I could justshowyou what I meant. Replay it. Or if she were here, she could do it for me.”

“No such luck.” He kept his voice low, so as not to be overheard. “If Myra were here, Beth would be, too.”

“Myra would have sent Beth away as well, if the case were truly urgent. Perhaps she was just eager to get to her assignment.”

“Maybe. I can’t help but think the whole thing seems suspicious.” He forced his shoulders to relax. “No news?”

Hulda shook her head. “Unfortunately, no, but I’ve sent out a few more missives. It might take several days to reap anything from them.”

Merritt wiped his hand down his face. “Thanks for alerting me. I should really invest in a telegraph, or another communion stone. Or a pigeon. Though I think the former would last longer.” He paused. “And I wouldn’t have to feed it.”

A corner of her mouth ticked up, which allayed some of Merritt’s simmering frustration. “Notwithstanding, I believe you owe Baptiste a cow.”

He chuckled. “That was if my second novel does well, not if I finished it. Perhaps for Christmas.” He moved toward the exit. When she did not join him, he stopped. Tried to push the frustration aside, or at least ignore it for the time being. “Hulda, let’s go out.”

She blinked. “I have some assignments from Mr.Walker—”

“Tonight, then.” He cupped her shoulders. Cattlecorn aside, Beth aside, he still had Hulda.He still had Hulda.“We can’t control LIKER and we can’t control Beth, but ... let’s do something fun.” An idea sprung to mind. “We passed an ice pond on the way here.” It wasn’t quite cold enough for a pond to freeze over, but the water was shallow and enchanted by a Canadian elementist, or so he’d heard.

Hulda tensed. “I haven’t skated in a very long time ... and it’s hardly appropriate.”

“Appropriate! It’s fine—people are loosening up, you know. Or let’s go ... buy soup or something.” He shrugged. “After work. I have some errands to run in Boston, anyway.” Especially now that he didn’t have an employee taking care of the grocery list. “I’ll wait for you.”

She searched his eyes, and the lip tilt climbed higher. He could see the shift in her countenance when she decided to give in. “All right. I’ll meet you here at five.”

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