Gooseberry Bluff Community College of Magic: The Thirteenth Rib (Kindle Serial) (32 page)

Ken looked around the waiting area to make sure no one was hearing their conversation. He couldn’t imagine what they might make of it if they did, but the fact that Bebe had tried to kill him and was currently tied up in the library at the McMonigal Arms and not in a cell at the Gooseberry Bluff Sheriff’s Department was irregular, to say the least.

I
WAS ATTACKING THEM
, he wrote.

“Why?”

B
ECAUSE I’M TIRED OF BEING THE DOOR;
I
WANTED TO TAKE A TURN AS THE BATTERING RAM
.

“Aren’t you afraid they’re going to retaliate, though?”

I’
M NOT AFRAID THEY WILL;
I
KNOW THEY WILL.
T
HIS DUEL HAS BEEN GOING ON FOR SO LONG THAT
I
THINK
I’
M STARTING TO EXPERIENCE WHAT MY OPPONENTS EXPERIENCE
. I
CRAVE WHAT THEY EAT
. I
’M TIRED WHEN THEY ARE
. T
HEY’RE CONSERVING THEIR ENERGY NOW, GATHERING IT FOR ANOTHER ASSAULT
. M
AYBE THE FINAL ONE
.

“You experience what they experience?”

Ken nodded.

“You think that goes both ways, then?”

He shrugged.

“Is that your reason for drinking so much wine that you can’t even stand? You think your opponent is going to pass out before you do?”

Ken placed the pad and pen carefully on the table in front of him, next to a copy of
People
magazine. He folded his arms.

“Oh, I see. You can make light of the fact that I’m so deep in my spinsterhood that I wonder what it might be like to eff the ineffable, but we still can’t discuss the fact that you have a drinking problem.”

Ken wondered just how long they were going to have to wait for a doctor to see them. He waited for as long as his conscience would allow before he picked up the pad again and wrote: I
WASN’T MAKING LIGHT
.

“Yes you were. And I was letting you, because our colleague of twenty-five years just tried to kill you. But Ken, if it were just you and your drinking, I’d be concerned, and I’d want you to get help. But it’s you,
and
your drinking,
and
the fate of the planet, and it scares me and it makes me want to slap you.”

I
HAVE IT UNDER CONTROL.
L
AST NIGHT WAS A MISTAKE.

“More than a mistake. You know Philip hates it when you drink like that.”

P
HILIP ISN’T HERE
.

“Yes, I know. Do you think that drinking is going to help bring him back?”

F
OR
G
OD’S SAKE
, S
IMONE
. S
TOP TALKING LIKE AN AFTER-SCHOOL SPECIAL
.

“Then stop living in one.”

Margaret May sat on the white paper of an exam table, still wearing her waitress’s apron bulging with pens and order pads. The girl had been treated for shock, but she was otherwise unhurt. Her eyes had gone wide when Joy told her she worked for the FBMA, and they hadn’t returned to normal size yet.

“You’re in Professor Ay’s 101 class, is that right?” Joy asked.

Margaret nodded. “Yeah.” Her eyes went watery. “Is he going to be…?”

Joy glanced at Gray. He had spoken with a member of Hector’s surgical team while Joy was explaining Selma’s situation to her doctors.

“They’re doing a spectral reconstruction of his broken bones,” said Gray. “It’s going to be a while. Those kind of operations are very strenuous for the patient and the surgeons both. But the surgeon I spoke with seemed optimistic.”

Margaret watched Gray as he spoke, and then for a little while longer. “I shouldn’t be thinking about my grades and my homework,” she said. “But I am.”

“This is a lot to process,” said Joy. “Are you sure you don’t mind answering questions?”

“I guess not. So, you’re a fed, huh? Cool.”

“Well, I’ve been working undercover.”

“Awesome,” said Margaret, in a tone that made it impossible to tell whether she thought it was awesome or not. Maybe Joy could ask Gray about it later.

“What did you want to know?” Margaret went on.

Joy ran her through the scene at the restaurant, from the time Stolas appeared to when Chuck and Hector fell off the roof. Talking about the fall upset her, but not as much as the cauldron of human blood and fat. Her account was detailed, and Gray didn’t speak up or ask for clarification for any of Margaret’s answers.

“So then Ms. Akbulut ran down to the street while you called an ambulance?”

“That’s right.”

“You’re doing great, Margaret. Now I have some questions about Chuck. How long did you work for him?”

“About a week.” Margaret let out a breath. “I guess I’m probably not working there anymore. Probably no one is, huh?”

“Hard to say right now,” said Joy. “It’ll be closed for the weekend, at least. What was your impression of Chuck?”

“I don’t know, he wasn’t really around that much, I guess? A few times he was in the kitchen when I came through, talking to the cooks. I guess he was a chef. Sometimes he’d be locked in his office. He wasn’t mean or anything.” She shook her head. “I don’t really know anything else. Just…what we found on the roof.”

Joy glanced at Gray, who shrugged. Joy took that to mean that what the girl said was more or less true. She could press the girl, maybe, but there were probably other employees who could give them more insight into the goings-on behind the scenes at the Mandrake.

“OK, Margaret. Do you need a ride home?”

“Um, I guess so. We portalled here, and I don’t even know where we are, exactly.”

“I’ll talk to the sheriff’s office about getting you a ride,” said Gray. He slipped through the curtain, and Joy was left alone with the girl.

“Professor Wilkins? I mean, Instructor. I mean—”

“What is it, Margaret?”

“There’s something I didn’t want to mention before, because it’s personal?”

“All right.”

“I mentioned that I was talking to a customer when Professor Ay and Professor Acubutt—Akbullet—”

“Akbulut, yes. You were talking to someone when they came in.”

“Yeah. He—he said he was your brother.”

Joy leaned forward with such intent that Margaret flinched. “What were his exact words?”

“He said, ‘Tell Professor Wilkins that her brother Trevor was here, and that he said she should talk to Dad.’ ”

Joy had to restrain herself from following her initial impulse, which was to get up and shake the girl. “Those were his exact words?”

“I’m pretty sure. I mean, this was in the middle of the whole giant owl thing, and right after that was the whole…cauldron of fat thing. That’s how I remember it, anyway.”

Trevor couldn’t possibly have been in Gooseberry Bluff, could he? And he certainly wouldn’t have told her to talk to their dead father. On the other hand, Margaret had no reason to make up such a thing.

“Sorry if I got it wrong,” said Margaret.

“It’s OK, Margaret. Like you said, there’s been a lot going on tonight.”

“So I guess I shouldn’t tell anyone you’re undercover?”

“No, we would prefer you didn’t. Actually, there’s a release I need you to sign,” Joy said. “I think Agent Gray brought a copy. It’s…there’s a geas attached, Margaret. I’m sorry about that, but it’s necessary for reasons of national security.”

“Yeah, cool. Whatever,” said Margaret. “So what kind of grades do you need to get a job like that?”

Zelda kept thinking that she should leave. Hector’s crystal had survived the fall, but every time she tried to call his emergency contact she just irritated a Spanish-speaking woman more. She had already left a message for Edith Grim-Parker at the school. One of the nurses had said Hector would probably be in surgery until sunrise, if not longer, and that he wouldn’t be conscious for quite a while after that.

If
he regained consciousness, that was.

It was the fact that it was her fault that he had nearly died, though, that had made Zelda decide to leave numerous times. If she had been convinced that sitting here hoping he came out of surgery all right was helping, she would have gone. But it was just sitting. Hoping wasn’t helping.

She was about to get up when a man in a tracksuit approached her. “Zelda Akbulut?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“My name is Agent Gray, and I’m with the FBMA. We’d like to ask you a few questions about what happened at the Mandrake. Do you mind?”

Zelda glanced at the door to the operating rooms. “Um. I’m not sure this is a good time.”

“I spoke to one of the surgeons,” said Agent Gray. “She seemed optimistic. He survived the fall; that says a lot. But he’s going to be in surgery for a few more hours.”

Zelda stood. “I don’t know if I can help you.” She almost said,
I don’t know if I
should
help you
, but she suspected he would take that the wrong way. She didn’t have the energy to explain the curse to him anyway.

Agent Gray led her toward the entrance, stopping off at a door marked s
ecurity
. Inside there was a room with a security guard behind a counter, and opposite that were two smaller rooms that looked very much like the interview rooms Zelda had seen on cop shows, minus the one-way mirrors and the crystal hologram recorder-projectors. Agent Gray motioned for her to precede him into one of them.

Inside, Joy Wilkins was already sitting in a chair.

“Hi, Zelda,” she said. “I’m sorry to have to do this now, but time is of the essence.”

Zelda blinked at her, still unsure of what was happening.

“I’m sorry about Hector too. I…I can answer your questions about him now.” Joy motioned toward the chair to her right. “Please sit down.”

Zelda sat. Agent Gray shut the door and leaned against it.

“So,” said Joy. “I may as well reintroduce myself. My name is Joy Wilkins, and I’m an agent with the Federal Bureau of Magical Affairs. I apologize for the deception.”

“I…OK,” said Zelda, because she didn’t know whether or not to accept the apology.

“Hector knew. We spoke to him about a week ago,” said Joy.

“He seems like a good guy,” said Agent Gray.

Joy looked surprised at Gray’s comment, but pressed on. “He was—is—under a geas that did not permit him to discuss this information with anyone who was not already privy to it. I didn’t realize, when we had him sign it, that you and he were involved. Last Saturday, Hector was meeting me at the library because I wanted to talk to him about his security measures at the school. When you asked me about it, I didn’t know how to explain. I was surprised. But I can assure you that Hector and I have no relationship beyond the professional.”

Zelda was remembering all the terrible things she had thought about Joy over the past few days. “I kept thinking you were a horrible slut!” she blurted out. She could feel her ears turning red. “I mean, I thought he might be a horrible slut too, but I never…this never occurred to me. God, I’m so embarrassed. And pissed! I mean…I shouldn’t take it personally, I know, but I feel like an idiot. And—and I have just realized that I’m saying all of this out loud.”

Joy actually laughed. “That’s OK. I’m sorry, so many things are not funny at the moment, but your honesty is refreshing.” She looked over at Agent Gray. “What does truth sound like?” she asked him.

“Like a note perfectly in tune,” he said.

“Agent Gray is a truth-teller,” Joy explained. “I don’t expect you to lie, but it’s bureau policy to have one present at formal interviews.”

“Oh. Well, that’s a little bit insulting. But I can understand why that would be the policy.”

“I’m glad. So can you tell me why you and Hector went to the Mandrake?”

“Hector wanted to put something up to protect the town from the demon. He mentioned an inertia ward. He seemed to think that the roof of the Mandrake was the best place to do this.”

“And Margaret May went with you?”

“Hector wanted her to help him with the spell.”

“OK. Margaret said that you were the one who realized what was in the vat, is that correct?”

“Yes.”

“How did you know?”

“I’ve worked with fat before. It’s used in some potions and topical applications, mostly for pain relief. Human fat is the most desirable, but it’s hard to come by, because the liposuction clinics charge a lot for it, and it’s still illegal to harvest it from corpses for commercial use. I used it a couple of times in grad school. It has a distinctive odor.”

Zelda realized that the slight pause Joy made before every new question was her giving Agent Gray the opportunity to say something if Zelda was being less than truthful. Gray just stood against the door with his arms crossed, a faint expression of disgust on his face.

“You didn’t know that about fat?” she asked. “Have you ever used Bengay Magic Rub? It’s thirty-five percent cow fat.”

“Thanks,” said Gray, “but I’d prefer not to think about that.”

“It’s important to know where things come from,” said Zelda. “Your food, your drink, your medicines, your cleaning products—did you know that Tortoise Wax contains real—”

“I think we’re getting off the topic,” said Joy. “Sorry. So you were on the roof, and you saw that Chuck had a vat of human fat. Did he say anything?”

“He told us not to come any closer. He said he had to do it. He said something to Hector, that they were friends, but Hector didn’t understand. Then I said that it was a Heartstopper, and he ran.”

“I understood that he jumped.”

“Well, yes, but he wasn’t right next to the edge, so he ran for it, and Hector ran after him, and…you know what happened then.”

“You ran down to the street?”

“Yes.”

“You didn’t touch any of the apparatus that Chuck had set up on the roof?”

“No. God. No.” Zelda couldn’t suppress a shudder of horror at the thought of that cauldron.

“How well did you know Chuck?”

“Not well. I think Hector did some work for him, just basic wards, that sort of thing. Chuck was in the culinary department at Gooseberry Bluff, but they shut that down a couple of years ago and he opened the Mandrake.”

“Did he ever express any political opinions?”