Page 93 of Heir of Uncertain Magic

He found himself envying MissRichards as they ascended the first set of stairs, stepping quietly. What he wouldn’t give for even a lick of her luck.

He walked beside Hulda, Beth immediately behind, followed by the somewhat confused Matthew and Nettie, with Owein and Baptiste taking up the rear. As they rounded for the second stairwell, however, they ran into a hiccup in their plan.

Her name was Megan Richards.

She was walking down the hall of women’s apartments, toward them, drinking something—and immediately choked when she sawthem, dropping her beverage. MissRichards would be an excellent witness for what they were about to do, but not if she raised the alarm first.

“You—” she began.

And Merritt whipped up a wardship shield in the hallway, blocking the woman from progressing any farther. If he weren’t so on edge, he might have been proud at the finesse with which he enacted the spell. To his relief, he managed to put up a second, which stifled the shout the secretary let out an instant later.

“Go,” he murmured, and Hulda hurried up the next flight, Merritt at her elbow. One more, and they reached the office floor of BIKER. Sadie Steverus sat at the desk—while she had provided Beth with the schedule, she hadn’t been informed of their plan. Her eyes widened as they approached. She stood but seemed at a loss for words.

Hulda hesitated only a second before pushing forward to Mr.Walker’s office. Merritt and the rest followed behind.

The scene was just as Hulda had described her vision. Walker sat at his desk, afternoon sun pouring through the window, edging his hair and suit jacket in gold. Baillie lingered over his desk to one side, going over some paperwork. The black-and-white clock on the right wall read two seventeen.

“What in—” Walker rose from his seat, bristling. “What is going on here? M-MissTaylor?”

Baillie immediately stiffened. “What is the meaning of this? A coup?” He retreated—good—and turned to Walker—bad. “They’re here to finish the job.”

“Spread out,” Merritt said before either man could eke out another syllable. The group did as requested, forming a semicircle around the desk. His pulse hammered.

Baillie cringed from Owein, who barked.

“Believe me, Mr.Walker,” Merritt tried, “this is not a coup. At least, not against you. You’ve been manipulated by Alastair Baillie for far too long.”

Mr.Walker opened his mouth, looking confused, and a little frightened—and then his thick brows drew together. Baillie’s gaze was locked on to the side of the man’s head. He was manipulating him.

Good.

“Call the police immediately,” Baillie said, cool and calm.

Mr.Walker shouted, “Call the—”

“Um,” Matthew began, rubbing the back of his head. He glanced at Merritt, who nodded and pulled out his pocket watch, tilting it so Beth—who’d armed herself with a pencil and paper—could see it. “This is ... not what I expected. But I’m supposed to tell a joke or a fond childhood memory. That is, why is a willow tree called a willow tree?”

“Good heavens, man,” Merritt said to Walker, gesturing to Nettie. “Her husband just died and left her destitute. Say something!”

The brash reminder sent Nettie, who’d been staring wide eyed, into tears.

Hulda looked away, focusing on her part. She was doing a good job, if the worrying of her hands was any indicator.

Because that was the plan—they were all to focus on one emotion, as hard as they could. Merritt was angry; it didn’t take much for him to focus on that. This very situation filled him with rage, and when nerves started getting the better of him, he just thought of his father or of Ebba, and his blood flowed hot.

Hulda was supposed to worry. Worry about herself, about them, about Myra and the future of BIKER.

Beth was to remain calm and play record keeper.

Baptiste was to be intimidating. Confident. Not hard for a man his size.

Owein got into character quickly, chasing his tail, barking over Nettie’s sobs, even howling. He was annoying.

And of course, Matthew was chipper and Nettie was utterly miserable.

“Will oi don’t know!” Matthew said with a chuckle.

“What’s going on?” asked a feminine voice from the door. MissSteverus had arrived right on time. She was unknowingly playing confused.

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