Page 41 of Unbroken
Ves arched a brow. “I sincerely doubt the truth of that story.”
“Unless she was poisonous to begin with.”
Of course. “She was one of us. The Dark Young, I mean.”
“That was always my guess.” Grandfather brought a napkin to his lips. “His garden flourished due to her presence, whether or not that was his original intent. Perhaps one of the remaining society members you haven’t met is your half-sibling. Or the unknown woman might be.”
“Not her. Our magic doesn’t mix well with the Books—I don’t think any of us would be able to use them.” His blood had killed Siewert the moment the leech tried to feed on it. And his flesh had caused a very unexpected result when used in conjunction with the Book of Flesh.
As for the Book of Bone, he shivered to remember how dead the bones it touched had felt. Suspended in a single state, no decay, no life within them. Definitely not something of which the All-Mother, Lord of the Forest, would approve.
“It was merely a thought.” Grandfather pushed aside his plate. “Thank you for meeting me here, Vesper. I enjoyed our time together very much. And I hope I was able to help in some small way.”
As soon as he was gone, Vesper signaled the waiter and paid the check. He walked back to the museum, thinking hard about everything his grandfather had said.
Almost the moment he put his foot in the library, Sebastian spotted him and came over. “Ves—there you are. I’ve been looking all over for you.” Before Ves could reply, he went on, “Mortimer thinks he knows where Fuller has been hiding.”
CHAPTER 19
“The Breakwater Club is for businessmen,” Mortimer explained as Irene drove them through the streets of Widdershins. They’d decided to visit in the late evening, when most of the members who weren’t staying the night would have departed to their homes. “According to my fifth cousin, he’s been living there since the first of July.”
Sebastian did some quick calculations. “The day you visited Rulkowski.”
Beside him, Ves nodded. “Rulkowski must have warned everyone else in the WHS as soon as we left.”
Damn the man for not telling them everything he knew that very day. “Does your cousin know anything about him?”
“Only in passing. Ian Fuller’s father made a great deal of money via a series of silk factories, enough that Fuller himself has been able to indulge a passion for botany for many years. Apparently Fuller moved to Widdershins shortly after his parents died—I don’t know if he thought to explore the Draakenwood, but he’s still alive, so I assume he changed his mind.” Mortimer straightened his cuffs. “He was something of an explorer for many years, bringing home all sorts of exotic specimens. But for the last decade or so, he’s contented himself with his private garden, and spends most of his time either at home or at the Breakwater Club, with the obvious exception of the WHS.”
“I wonder if he learned magic in his travels,” Ves mused.
“He could have learned all he needs right here in Widdershins,” Sebastian protested. “People like my ancestor Gregorio and your grandfather get swept away by the romance of ancient European ruins and hidden valleys, but that’s all set dressing when you get down to it.”
“Quite right,” Mortimer agreed. Irene muttered something that sounded like “Americans.”
A few minutes later, she pulled up to the curb in front of the club, which lay just off River Street, not far from Le Calmar, the most expensive restaurant in Widdershins. The club itself was housed in an imposing granite building, with a discreet plaque beside the entrance reading Breakwater Club. A uniformed doorman stood guard and offered them an ingratiating smile when they approached. “Good evening, gentlemen, ma’am, how can I help you?”
After leaving the library, they’d all gone home to change into their best clothing short of formal wear. For Sebastian and Ves that meant dark suits. Mortimer had a nicely tailored pinstriped suit, and Irene wore a beaded dinner dress along with a hat the size of a wedding cake, covered in silk flowers.
Mortimer smiled. “I’m Mortimer Waite—my cousin Napoleon Waite is expecting us.”
“Of course, sir. Step inside—you’ll find the concierge immediately to the right—please speak with him, and he’ll see your cousin is notified.”
Inside, the air reeked of cigars, underlain with brandy and wood polish. Though ostentatious, the entryway was done in a masculine style, all oak paneling and sturdy furniture. “I’m going to guess this is the sort of place that doesn’t allow female members,” Irene said, not bothering to keep her voice down.
The concierge, a slim man who no doubt spent much of his time greeting and catering to members, winced but didn’t deny it. “How may I help you tonight?”
Mortimer gave the name of his cousin, and they waited until he was summoned. Napoleon turned out to be slightly younger than Mortimer, neat but plain in both his attire and appearance. The cousins exchanged greetings.
The concierge gave a polite cough before they could leave. “A reminder of the rule concerning female guests,” he said apologetically.
Irene drew herself up haughtily. “Are you suggesting I’m here for some illicit purpose, Mr.—” Her eyes flicked down to the nameplate on his desk. “—Jeffries?”
Jeffries turned scarlet. “No, not at all?—”
“Because I am an Endicott. You do know who the Endicotts are, don’t you, Mr. Jeffries?” she asked, the repetition of his name a clear threat she’d remember it later.
The poor man went stark white. “Yes, of course, I never meant to imply…that is…please stay as long as you like. I, ah, I must attend to something, please excuse me.”
