The Magician's Dream (Oona Crate Mystery: book 3) (12 page)

Oona moved against the stair railing, and Deacon puffed up his chest menacingly on her shoulder.

Mr. Shusher jabbed his finger at her. “You mind your own business.”

Oona held the knot book up in front of her like a shield. Mr. Shusher’s eyes flicked briefly toward the cover, and then as if realizing what he was doing, he shook his head and turned his back on her, disappearing through the library door. Oona let out a quick breath and placed her hand on the rail to steady herself.

“That was reckless,” Deacon said. He shook his feathers as he shrank back to his normal size. “What possessed you to confront him like that? He might be one of the Rose Thieves, for all we know.”

Oona was nodding. She started back down the stairs. “Mr. Shusher and his wife certainly have had access to this book. Who knows the library’s collection better than the librarian? Do you think he recognized the book when I held it up?”

Deacon shook his head. “I have no idea.”

Oona’s mouth twisted to one side. “I couldn’t tell, either. It happened too fast.”

Deacon looked thoughtful. “But then again, they both have alibis for the night of the theft.”

Oona pushed through the museum door and squinted against the outside glare. “They
supposedly
have alibis, but we can’t be certain. After all, Mary had a supposed alibi, but she lied, didn’t she?”

“You think the mother and father are lying as well?”

“It is a possibility. We should find out more about this book club of theirs, and see if the Shushers were, in fact, in attendance the night of the theft.”

Deacon clacked his beak several times. “Might I suggest you spend at least
some
time researching your next battle test?”

“What, you don’t think I have done fine so far?” Oona asked.

“You have done quite well, according to your uncle . . . but it couldn’t hurt.”

Oona stopped at the curb and looked up at Samuligan, who was waiting patiently atop the carriage. He looked as if he were lost in some sort of trance. His dark eyes did not appear to be focusing on anything in particular, yet there was a slight curving about his mouth, a mischievous bend, and Oona couldn’t help but wonder if the faerie were preparing for the challenge later that day. It made her shiver to look at him.

“Perhaps you are right, Deacon,” Oona half whispered. “If Samuligan is preparing for this challenge, I might want to do the same.” And then in a louder voice, which seemed to snap Samuligan out of his daze, she said: “But first we must pick up Uncle Alexander and Mrs. Carlyle. We have a campaign rally to attend.”

The Rally

“Let me guess,” said Mrs. Carlyle. “That’s him there. The one in the top hat.”

Oona, Deacon, the Wizard, and Mrs. Carlyle approached the crowd of people surrounding the stage. Samuligan, who seemed uninterested in human politics, had stayed behind with the horse and carriage.

The sun was out, lighting up the park grounds like green carpet, turning the shade beneath the trees into welcoming shelter.

Mrs. Carlyle pointed toward the growing crowd, but Oona knew precisely whom the maid was referring to. Oona had spotted Adler’s shabby top hat and ragged cloak from as far away as the park entrance. He stood near the edge of the crowd beside his sister, Isadora, and their mother, Madame Iree, the famous dressmaker.

“Perhaps you’ll give us an introduction,” the maid said.

Oona’s face went very warm.

She was impressed by the number of people in attendance. There must have been at least three hundred people.

“Looks like a good turnout,” said the Wizard.

“Indeed,” Mrs. Carlyle agreed.

“She’ll need more votes than this to win though, don’t you think?” Oona asked.

“She will indeed,” Deacon said. “But look at that fancy display. Must have cost a fortune.”

Deacon was referring to the festive decorations that had been hung from the trees and draped around the stage. Molly Morgana Moon’s campaign staff had been hard at work since Oona had last seen the stage the day before. Signs hung from every tree limb, each of them displaying a printed photograph of the candidate’s smiling face.

The image accentuated Molly Morgana Moon’s large eyes, which looked both concerned and likable at the same time. Above her image had been printed slogans such as
a vote for me is a vote for you
! and
let’s take back our street
!

It was all very professional and quite expensive-looking.

“Molly Morgana Moon has always been good at raising money,” The Wizard said. “She knows all the right people. Perhaps I was wrong, and she does stand a chance after all.”

That was encouraging, Oona thought, and then came to a stop at the edge of the crowd right behind Adler. She tapped him on the shoulder.

“Ah, Miss Crate,” he said, spinning around and tipping his hat.

“Hello, Adler,” Oona said. “I believe you know my uncle, the Wizard.”

Adler bowed slightly. “Of course. Good day to you, sir.”

“And a fine day it is,” the Wizard said agreeably.

“And this is Mrs. Carlyle, our new housemaid,” Oona said.

Adler’s eyebrows rose slightly at being introduced to a housemaid, which was highly unusual, Oona knew, but he recovered quickly and tipped his hat. “A pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Carlyle.”

“The pleasure is mine, Mr. Iree,” Mrs. Carlyle said, and gave Oona an overt wink. “And don’t you think Miss Crate is looking lovely today?”

Adler gave a half shrug before answering: “She does . . . but then again, she looks lovely every day.”

“Really? Is that so?” said a sharp, disbelieving voice, and Oona turned to discover Isadora staring at her, arms crossed.

“Hello, Isadora,” Oona said. “How are you today?”

Isadora glanced around, ignoring the question. “Where is your faerie servant? Off gloating over his win from last night?”

Oona almost laughed at the absurdity of this. She had never seen Samuligan gloat in her life. He might be self-assured and unpredictable, but gloating he was not. She decided to give Isadora a taste of her own medicine and ignored the question.

“Where is Roderick Rutherford, Isadora?” Oona asked.

She was speaking of Isadora’s overly gallant boyfriend who had helped Isadora cheat her way through the Magician’s Tower Contest.

Isadora rolled her eyes. “Oh, him? We broke up last month. Or, I should say,
I
broke up with
him
. He kept going on and on about being chivalrous. Wouldn’t shut up about it. He kept wanting to open carriage doors for me and escort me across the street.”

Oona’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “But I thought you liked all that, Isadora.”

“I do . . . or, that is to say, I did, until I realized that he did not believe I could do these things for myself. He thought I was incapable. So I dumped him, and that is when mother and I joined the Molly Morgana Moon campaign. You remember my mother, don’t you?”

Oona had, of course, met Madame Iree on several occasions. She nodded hello to the dressmaker just as the crowd erupted into applause. The woman whose face was plastered everywhere stepped onto the stage, along with a bearded man who wore a top hat and monocle.

Molly Morgana Moon was a short, immensely attractive woman in her mid-forties. She wore an expensive-looking corseted blue dress with a matching hat that gave her an important air. The dress was tailor-made to fit her short stature, and Oona had an idea that the dress was a Madame Iree original that would not have come cheap.

Oona’s heart seemed to swell in her chest as the woman approached the front of the stage and waved to the crowd. It was all so exciting. Molly Morgana Moon was at the forefront not only of women’s equality but also of change on Dark Street, and Oona felt excited just to be there, to be a part of it. Though she would not be able to vote until her twenty-first birthday, she still wished for her voice to be heard, and she soon began to cheer along with the rest of the crowd.

“Thank you all for coming,” Molly Morgana Moon shouted over the applause. She made a motion for the crowd to quiet down, but the spectators were too excited. Their cheers grew only louder. Mrs. Moon continued to smile as she cast a look at the man in the top hat. He smiled back, as if the reception was just as pleasing to him as it was to her.

“Who is that?” Oona asked, turning to Mrs. Carlyle.

“The gentleman standing beside her?” asked Mrs. Carlyle. “That’s her husband.”

Deacon said: “Mr. John David Moon. He was the owner of a stock trading company that went belly up a few years ago: Moon Investments. I’m afraid they have fallen into hard times.”

Oona looked at the couple’s fine attire and almost regal air, and said: “They appear to have recovered quite nicely.”

“Appearances can be deceptive,” Deacon said. “You of all people should know that.”

Oona frowned. “Well, then, where did they get the money for all of this?” She gestured toward the stage and its impressive decorations.

“It’s a good question,” Deacon said.

At last the spectators began to quiet down, and Molly Morgana Moon could be heard over the crowd. “Thank you all for coming. Thank you so very much. It is an honor to be here.”

As the crowd quieted, Oona noticed a short balding man near the side of the stage. He was waving his hands in the air, as if trying to get Mrs. Moon’s attention. She didn’t appear to notice him, but her husband, John David Moon, did. The smile on John David’s face dropped abruptly away as he walked to the side of the stage.

While it seemed everyone in the crowd had eyes only for Molly Morgana Moon, who began her speech by thanking various members of the community for their support, Oona was too distracted by the man at the side of the stage to listen properly. She happened to be on the same side of the stage as he was, and she could see the expression of irritation on John David Moon’s face as he knelt to speak with him. They spoke in whispers—too soft for anyone to hear—but from where Oona stood, it was quite clear that the two of them were arguing.

Mr. Moon shook his head, pointing his finger threateningly at the balding man. Oona watched the two of them curiously as the exchange grew even more heated. Oona was contemplating moving closer so that she might hear what the two of them were arguing about when a second distraction pulled her attention toward the park entrance.

A group of thirty or more rather loud latecomers came clomping across the park, the majority of them holding handmade signs over their heads. It wasn’t until they got a bit closer that Oona was able to read them.

Most of the signs exclaimed
fink for council!
or some such variation, though mixed in were an abundance of much ruder signs that said things like
women, stay in your place!
and
don’t vote for the skirts!

Oona took in a startled gasp as she saw the expressions on the faces of the men holding the signs. They were full of hatred and rage. Those who did not carry signs were carrying crudely made clubs.

“Oh, dear,” said Deacon.

Mrs. Carlyle took in a sharp breath. “Great Oswald, there’s going to be a riot!”

At the mention of the word
riot
many of the spectators on Oona’s side of the stage turned to see the approaching mob.

“What’s that about?” Adler asked.

“We should all remain calm,” the Wizard said.

Surprisingly, it was the word
calm
more so than the word
riot
that caused the nearby spectators to react.

“They’ve got clubs!” someone cried.

“Run!” shouted another.

A handful of spectators did just that, bolting for the far end of the park, which seemed to be the cue for the mob of angry men to run straight at the crowd.

“But there are women and children in there!” Oona said, shocked at seeing the oncoming wave of swinging clubs and fists.

“I believe that’s the point,” said the Wizard, who took hold of Oona and pulled her to him.

“We have to do something,” Oona said. “People are going to get hurt . . . or worse.”

She could see Molly Morgana Moon beginning to look around from atop the stage to see what the disturbance was. More people from the crowd were beginning to run now, and the mob was nearly on them.

Screams of fright mingled with the belligerent shouts of the club-wielding men.

“Do you have your wand, Oona?” the Wizard asked urgently.

Oona’s hand shot into her dress pocket and pulled out her father’s magnifying class.

“Very good. Hexingjer’s Barrier should do the trick,” the Wizard said, pulling out his own wand and aiming it at the space between the approaching mob and the scattering crowd. “On the count of three.”

There was no time to question. She aimed her wand and counted down in rapid succession with her uncle. “One, two,
Bar isth tho
!”

A stream of white wind shot from the ends of both the Wizard’s wand and Oona’s magnifying glass handle. It swirled thickly like a winter storm before freezing solid, forming a seven-foot wall of ice. Unable to stop their momentum, the approaching hoard of men collided against the wall in a heap of signs and clubs. Several of the men began to throw punches at one another while others picked themselves shakily up from the ground and looked for a way around the wall.

The wall of ice stopped at the edge of the stage, where the more crafty members of the mob now turned their attention.

“They’re going to tear it down,” Oona said, unsure of how she knew this but certain all the same. “We’ve got to get Molly Morgana Moon to safety.”

As the mob approached the edge of the stage, Oona could see that the balding man was nowhere to be seen, and that John David Moon was taking his wife by the hand and leading her toward the far end of the stage. They had just reached the edge when the entire stage gave a shutter and began to lean sideways.

At least seven strong men were at the other end of the stage heaving with all of their might. Once again the stage shuttered, and then pitched left, tossing Molly Morgana Moon and her husband into the air.

“
Desendium
,” Oona cried, and another windlike spell shot from the end of her wand, over the heads of the scattering crowd, and caught the falling couple just in time, cushioning their fall. They stumbled slightly, and then continued running along with the rest of the crowd toward the second gate entrance at the far end of the park.

Behind them the entire stage collapsed with a resounding crash of metal and wood.

“I believe we have sufficiently deterred them,” Uncle Alexander said, peering through the icy wall at the belligerent men on the other side. “And I think no one was hurt. I believe we should be off ourselves, before they figure out they can walk around the end of the wall.”

Several members of the mob made as if to scale the wall of ice, but none seemed capable of the climb. Most, however, seemed satisfied with the destruction of the stage and settled on shouting rude names after the fleeing crowd.

Oona felt a hand clamp onto hers and looked around to find Adler Iree standing beside her. In all of the confusion she had forgotten he was there.

“Are your mother and sister all right?” Oona asked.

“They took off that way.” He pointed toward the retreating spectators. Without a hint of humor he added: “Don’t think I’ve ever seen Isadora run so fast.”

Oona glanced hurriedly around. “Where’s Mrs. Carlyle?”

“I believe she made her exit with the others,” said the Wizard. “As we would be wise to do ourselves.” He grabbed Oona’s other hand and led them in the direction of the northernmost park gate.