Page 76 of Heir of Uncertain Magic

Hulda moved her tongue around her mouth to moisten it. Her gaze darted between Mr.Walker and Mr.Baillie. “I-I’m surprised you’re here so early.” She picked up the ledger.

“Azurite,” Mr.Baillie said, calm as a winter lake.

Indeed, the azurite piece Hulda had been studying was still sitting on the windowsill.

“I see that.” Mr.Walker’s tone was about as alive as a market fish. He stepped aside, waving his hand, and two watchmen stepped into the room, one tugging a length of rope between his hands.

Hulda’s stomach flopped onto the floor, right where the ledger had been. “What is the meaning of this?”

“Do you think me a fool, MissLarkin?” Mr.Walker asked, stepping into the room as the watchmen seized her arms. One jerked the ledger from her hands; then the other jerked them behind her back.

“A fool? No.” Hulda struggled to keep her voice even, but it betrayed her with a heavy waver. “But after this man”—she angled her head toward Mr.Baillie as the watchmen jerked her arms in their sockets and bound her wrists with the rope—“trespassed Mr.Fernsby’s home and claimed he was under the control of your psychometry, I thought I’d do a little research.”

Mr.Walker let out a weak, mirthless chuckle. “Just as you said, Baillie.”

That smirk on Mr.Baillie’s mouth deepened.

Blood drained from Hulda’s face and onto the floor beside her stomach. “Wh-What?”

Reaching into his pocket, Mr.Walker pulled out a handful of azurite—herazurite. He must have collected it last night, save the one here. “I don’t know if you’ve lied about Myra Haigh,” he said, “but to be clear, I’m having you arrested for fraud and the misuse of magic.”

Hulda shook her head. “What? No, this is a misunderstanding! You can’t—Mr.Baillie is—”

“The bespelling of houses to force American citizens to require BIKER’s services,” Mr.Walker continued.

Hulda’s body went limp. Thatwassomething Myra had done. She’d used Silas Hogwood for it.

“The siphoning of funds from LIKER and its subsidiaries,” Mr.Walker continued.

She gaped. “I never—”

“The use of a psychometrist to overtake BIKER,” he spoke over her.

“No!” she shrieked as the watchmen tugged her away from the window. “I haven’t seen Myra since she resigned!”

Mr.Walker snorted. “There is more than one psychometrist in the world, MissLarkin.” He held up the stones. “I do believe Mr.Fernsby recently came into magic. These stones you’ve placed around the office would certainly help him bewitch us.”

Her knees weakened. It was all wrong—all twisted and splintered and wrong. “Mr.Fernsby is a communionist, a wardist—”

“And a psychometrist,” Mr.Baillie finished for her. “We have his lineage, MissLarkin. There’s no point in hiding it.”

His genealogy?Shehad it as well, and there wasn’t a lick of psychometry in it. Her eyes locked onto Mr.Baillie’s. “You doctored it, you conniving—”

“Not to mention the funds that were going to Whimbrel House,” Mr.Walker interrupted.

She didn’t know whom to plead to—Mr.Walker, Mr.Baillie, or the watchmen around her. “No, never ...” Had Mr.Baillie doctored that, too? She settled on the lawyer. “What did you do?” Her voice was rough with unshed tears.

Mr.Baillie did not answer. The watchmen dragged her to the doorway. Mr.Walker stepped back. As she passed, he said, “I’ll ask you one more time. Do you know where Myra Haigh is?”

“No!” she practically screamed the word.

“Have you spoken to her since this investigation began?”

Denial spiraled up her throat, then died on her tongue. It was only a moment’s hesitation, but apparently that was all Mr.Walker needed.

“Take her.” He massaged his temples. “Make it quick. I don’t need a scene.”

The men shoved Hulda down the hallway, never giving her a chance to look back.

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