Page 44 of Salt Magic, Skin Magic
“This isn’t wolf hair.” John angled his finger to the light again.
“Isn’t it? How do you know?”
“Because I use wolf hair in one of my charms, and this isn’t it.”
“Oh.” Thornby ran a shaky hand across his face. “Christ, you’re useful to have around, aren’t you? I don’t suppose there’s another man in Yorkshire who could have told me that.”
“But I do think it’s from an animal. Sorry, Thornby. Still, you seem to have got on all right as a man for—how old are you? Twenty-seven years—so whatever it is, I think you just need it in your possession.”
“I could put it in a safe and never think of it again?”
“Exactly. So long as it’s yours, you can go where you like, I suspect. Which is why you were able to go off to school and Oxford and London and so on. Because it’s your trunk and so its contents were yours, too. Until your father took it. Anyway, we’ve another clue, thanks to me asking you rude personal questions.”
Thornby managed a watery smile. “I’m beginning to appreciate your impertinence, Mr Blake.”
“Good. You’ve no idea how impertinent I plan to be, once everyone’s gone to bed. And don’t lose your nerve about this hunt because we found a hair. It doesn’t mean you’re half beast. Maybe it’s a lucky rabbit’s foot. Your mother might have charmed it for you.”
He looked at the hair again, trying to place it. Could it be from a rabbit? It was an odd colour for a rabbit, but perhaps. Or if colour was no clue, maybe some kind of golden fox? Or a deer?
Thornby sighed, head bowed as if contemplating his silk-clad knees. “You’ve no idea how discomforting it is, learning you’re not fully human. It’s not that I mind Mother being different; it’s because it gives Father this awful hold over me. I’m bloody frightened. I’ve been going slowly mad this last eighteen months, and now I— Look, you don’t think it would be better to marry Miss Grey or whoever, and then—well, I know he’ll take the money, but at least I could get away. I’d have my name. I could borrow, or get some position with an income to support her. Couldn’t I?”
“You trust him to give it to you?”
“But if I’ve done as he wants? I can’t get married more than once, can I? So, if I’m no further use to him, whynotlet me go?”
“Of course, it’s up to you.”
“But you wouldn’t, would you?” Thornby said.
“No, and for the same reason you haven’t; because you won’t put an innocent girl into the middle of all this. Because you’re a gentleman. When you’re not sucking my cock, that is.”
Thornby gave a helpless snort of laughter. “You’re right. I just—I think I shall go mad if I have to stay here another minute. John, you will get me out, won’t you?”
“Of course I will. Come, you go back to the Greys and I’ll tidy up here.” John took his pocketbook out and carefully put the hair between two blank pages. “I’ve shown my face downstairs. I’ll go back to my materials now.”
“I wish we could stay up here. How’s it going, your research?”
“Fine. I’m onto something. And this hair will help tremendously. It’s part of what we’re looking for. If I can find the right sigil, this’ll lead us straight to the token. So, chin up, and I’ll see you at dinner.”
Thornby left him, and John tidied up and went back to his room. He’d told Thornby things were fine, but in fact he was far from sure. His materials had still not offered up much in the way of suggestions, but the quality of their silence was less stunned, more pensive.
So, he hadn’t lied to Thornby. Itwasgoing well.
Wasn’t it?
