The Watchmage of Old New York (The Watchmage Chronicles Book 1) (5 page)

“We there, sir,” Arrock said with a voice like a glacier.  “You want I stay?”

“No, thank you.  Take the horses home and water them.”

“Yess’r.”

I would’ve taken the carriage all the way to the Vanderlays, but I didn’t like to leave Arrock alone in public for long.  He has a very sensitive temperament for an Ogre.

We stepped onto the train and threaded our way to seats.  The great machine lurched forth, belching dark, rheumy boils of coal dust and black breath.  I examined Jonas’s blackened eyes and the bruise on his jaw.  The train, the city, and the missing child all faded.  There was only my boy.

Jonas

My jaw hurt like Hell, and my left arm hurt worse, but damned if I’d let Pop know it.  He’d probably wizard me back to bed.  I looked at his disguise.  I would never have recognized him.  Even that magic cane of his changed color.  I wondered if he really changed—or if it was an illusion like those phantom Redcaps I tried to fight.

The great iron beast screeched as we came to a stop.  “This is our station,” said Pop.  I nodded and we stepped off of the train.  It was a short walk from the stop to the Vanderlay estate, that they called Riverview.  They lived in Harlem, not far from the farm where Pop spent his childhood.

“How well do you know Vanderlay?” I asked Pop.

“Quite well,” he said.  “I know him, his parents, and his grandparents. I’m well acquainted with the family line.”

“And?”

“Terrible people, every one of them.”

Their locked iron gate looked foreboding, despite the wrought iron swirls and ripples that intertwined with the solid vertical bars.  A keeper bundled in coats sat in the nearby gatehouse, looking cold and annoyed at our presence.  “How can I help you, Officer?” he said as he looked over my uniform and badge.  I hated wearing my blues, but it got me places I didn’t belong.

“We’re here about young Stewart.”

The keeper nodded and unlocked the gate.  It swung open and we stepped through before it slammed and locked behind us.

Riverview was far from the grime and smoke of the city.  The snow that covered the hilly land was lily white in the sun and cornflower blue in the shadows.  A broad path of paved stones led to the main house, which stood on the hillside like a proud king surveying his realm.

“Not bad,” I said as we climbed the stoop.  “It’s bigger than Turtle House.”

Pop stopped short and raised his head as if he was sniffing the wind.

“What is it?”

He tried to rub his beard and finding it no longer there, rubbed his double chin.  “There is a very powerful magic inside of this house.  I can’t tell what it is, but it is something very old.”

“Older than you?”

“Older than Methuselah.”

“That’s old.” 

“Yes.”  He knocked on the door.  “They know you, so you should take the lead.”

The butler greeted us.  He looked like an older version of Hendricks, tall and thin, but his Adam’s apple wasn’t as big.  I wondered if all butlers were required to look that way.

He led us to the entry hall, a huge room with tapestries on the walls and a crystal chandelier overhead.  In front of us was a grand staircase with a rose red carpet on the stairs.  The carpet flowed through the hall and under our feet.

Any fool could tell that this was a house in mourning.  Black curtains hung over the windows, and a black curtain drooped over the large mirror on the wall. 

“The Mister and Missus are in the parlour,” the butler said.  “Follow me, if it pleases you.”

The Vanderlays sat on a pink couch in the French style.  Vanderlay was a stout man, his hair thick and black, tapering down to a clean shaven face.  Like his hair, his eyebrows were bushy and they angled toward the bridge of his nose like an elbow’s crook.  He seemed the inverse of his wife, who was thin, white with powder, and delicate.  If a lily took human form, it would look like Edna Vanderlay.  The difference was that she wore black, as a mourning mother should.

The butler cleared his throat.  “Sir, Madam, presenting Officer Hood and…”

“Detective Dupin,” Pop answered.  “Of the Municipal Police.” Pop held out a moist hand, Vanderlay didn’t shake.  The Missus didn’t even look at him, though I noticed Pop staring intently at her.

“Yes, we met Officer Hood,” said Mister Vanderlay.  “I am glad that they assigned us a real detective.  My letter to Mayor Wood did some good.”

I pocketed the insult, though I wanted to give him an eye as black as mine. “We’d like to look at the nursery again—and to interview any potential witnesses.  The cook, the housekeeper.  Anyone that might have seen something.”

Vanderlay started to speak, but his wife interrupted.  “We know who did it.  It was the Hebrews.  It had to be.” Vanderlay squeezed her upper arm hard enough that she gasped. 

“Yes…” Pop began.  “Regardless, we need to speak with everyone.  Procedure, you understand.”

Vanderlay assented.  I felt a shiver, and then I heard Pop’s voice in my mind. 
The magic is on the woman.  I have to speak with her.
  I looked at him and nodded.

“Mr. Vanderlay, may I speak with you in private?” I said.

“Am I under some sort of suspicion?”  His eyebrows came together as one furry hedgerow.

“Like Detective Dupin said, I need to speak with everyone.  You’re first.”

“Very well, we can speak here.  Edna,” he said, gesturing to his wife, “show the detective the nursery.”

Missus Vanderlay and Pop left, leaving me alone with Vanderlay.  He motioned for me to sit down, so I found a chair and pulled it close to him.

“Do you drink?” he asked.

“As much as any man,” I said. “Maybe a little more.”

He reached for a glass of wine on the table.  “I rarely drank, and never to excess.”  He drank deep of his wine.  “Things change.”

“They do.”  My eyes floated up to the portraits on the wall.  Vanderlays going back generations stared at me from gilded frames, all thick haired and grim.  Even from the canvas they seemed to judge me, wondering what a Knickerbocker son is doing with a badge.  “Any ransom demand yet?”

“No, I wish they would.  I make more money than they can imagine.  Whatever they ask won’t be worth half as much as my heir.”

“Where were you when they took him?”

“My office on Chambers.  My clerks will confirm it for you.”

“And when did you hear about Stewart?  What time did you return home?”

“Six o’clock.  I came home and the house was chaos.  My wife was sobbing.  The doctor was taking the wet nurse away.”

“Molly,” I stated.

“Yes, that’s her name.  I had forgotten.” He crossed and uncrossed his legs.  “Have you spoken to her yet?”

“Yes, but she’s still sick.  They don’t know if she’ll live.”

“Oh, that’s unfortunate.”  He pressed on one of his temples, like he had a headache. “These past few days.”  He took his hand from his head. “It’s taken such a toll.  My wife’s hysterical, screaming to the papers about Hebrews eating Christian babies.  One of my biggest clients is a Hebrew from Charlotte.  How am I supposed to explain this to him?”

“What’s his name?”

“Asa Goldman, but he’s an honest man.  A miracle that he’s able to make any money.”

He stood up to pour himself another drink.  I wondered how Pop was doing with the Missus upstairs.  I could tell that whatever magic he sensed got him good.

“About Molly, where did you find her?”

Vanderlay poured his wine to the rim.  “Oh, her.  She was a problem ever since we took her in.  Do someone a charity and it bites you in the end.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know, those people.  They lack the morals and upbringing of us good Americans.  She was with child.  Out of Christian charity, we took her in.  We knew that we would need a wet nurse soon, and she was as good as any.  Fat lot that did us.  They say a snake bit her.” He coughed a laugh.  “I thought the Irish killed all the snakes.”

“You just found a street g’hal from the Lower Wards?”

“The Sisters of Perpetual Sorrow referred her to us.  They took her baby when she gave birth.”

“Did she ever mention a sister?” I asked.

“I don’t speak to the help.  I doubt I would recognize her voice.”  He drained his glass, obviously deep into them.  “Any more questions?”

“No, but I need to speak with your cook and maid.”

“I dismissed the maid yesterday for laziness.  The cook is in the kitchen, but she didn’t see anything.”

“Thank you.”  I left Vanderlay in his cups and found the kitchen.

The cook bustled between stoves and ovens, humming a tune as she went.  She was middle aged and pretty, with a fetching girth to her hips.  The ring on her finger was dull, and looked more nickel than silver.  A girl on the edge of womanhood stood at a table, rolling dough into a flat square.  Flour painted her face and hair.

“Excuse me, Miss.”

“That’s Missus.” The cook turned around.  “Oh, beggin’ yer pardon, Off’cer.  You must be here about poor Stew’rt.  Such a shame, such a shame.  I’m Mirna, and this is my daughter Cath’rine.”  The girl smiled, showing her surprisingly well-formed teeth.

“You were here when they took Stewart?”

“I was.”  She waved her spoon at Catharine.  “You go on now, Kitty.  You don’t need to hear this.  Go tell Morris he can take lunch at One o’clock.”

“I wanna talk to the policeman.  I’ve never seen one before.”

Mirna stepped to her, spoon raised like a club.  The girl squealed as she scampered off. 

Mirna returned the spoon to the pot of soup.  The smell was marvelous.  “That girl’ll be the end of me.”

She offered me some cold chicken as we spoke. I found myself liking her, but she didn’t know anything besides household gossip and bunkum. 

“Do you know where I can find the housekeeper?”

She tutted and sighed. “Poor girl, she was the one that found Molly.  Dunno why the mister fired her.  It may’ve been spite for not saving his son.  The mister can be like that.  Her name’s Lily, but I don’t know where she lives now.”

“Thank you.”  I left her alone.  I hoped that Pop had more luck than I did.  All Vanderlay knew was how to be a bastard.

Nathaniel

There was no doubt that this was the house from my dream.  If I were to crawl on my belly, the view, the feel of the rug, even the scent of the house would be the same.  Yet my attention was fixed on the magic pulsing from Missus Vanderlay like a dragon’s heart.

We stood in the nursery, a large room painted in baby blue, decorated with finely crafted furniture.  Though the snake was long gone, threads of magic slithered across the floor to where the cradle should’ve been.

“Where’s the cradle?” I asked.

“They took it when they stole Stewart. I don’t understand why they would take the cradle.  It must be part of their ritual.”

“And nobody saw?”

“I don’t believe that, either,” she said as she wiped her red-rimmed eyes.  “They all conspired together.  It’s a plot to take my poor baby away from me.  Oh, he must be so lonely.”  She turned away from me and tried to regain composure.

I mumbled some reassuring sounds and knelt where the cradle used to be.  I felt residual threads of all five elements and the remnants of an apparating circle.  The runes were an archaic weave—and powerful.  I smelled salt and tasted sand in the mystic residue. 

“What do you see?” The missus stepped closer and looked over my shoulder.

I stood up. “Threads, maybe some dirt. Nothing of use.”

The throb of magic surrounding Missus Vanderlay almost overwhelmed me.  It latched onto my heart, enticing me like the Sirens singing their air of longing to Ulysses. 

I steadied myself by noting her details.  She was a thin woman, dressed in mourning black with a locket of sliver.  She wore too much powder on her face, especially below her left cheek.

“You’re convinced that Jews are behind the kidnapping.”

Her lower lip quivered and tightened her face, but her efforts were for naught.  The tears flowed, cutting rivers through the powder on her face.  “I know they did.  They took my baby for one of their Devil rituals.  They did it for vengeance.”

“Vengeance?  For what?”

“A bad business deal? You know how those people are.” She took out a colored handkerchief and dabbed her tears.  A wave of power washed over and staggered me.

“Where did you get that?”

“My handkerchief?” Her eyes narrowed. “That’s not your concern.”

“It is if you want me to find your son.”  I couldn’t take my eyes off of it.  It was striped with several colors, faded but not unpleasant.  A pattern of waves and curls were embroidered along the edges. Other than the colors, there was nothing striking about it, but it fascinated me all the same.

Her voice grew low. “If you ask me again, I’ll call my husband.  My handkerchief has nothing to do with you or Stewart.”

There was iron in her gaze, more than a mortal could have. I had to take drastic measures.  I knew that it was immoral in the eyes of the Star of Nine—and in my eyes too—but she was holding some unknown power, and I had to know more.

I extended my will and engulfed the two of us in Aether energy.  I heard the music of her soul, a fierce blaring of horns, with the delicate tinkling of piano struggling to be heard.  I listened carefully and matched the piano’s song with my own until it forced the horns into the background.

Her eyes found mine, and they shone. A slight smile bent her mouth. 

“Missus Vanderlay, I am trying to help.  I need to know everything, every detail.”

Missus Vanderlay hesitated as the horns fought to be heard, but I continued to coax the piano forward.  “We took a holiday to Europe and Arabia last year,” she finally said.  “I bought it in one of those Arab bazaars.  It’s mine now.”

She was holding something back.  It was hard to resist a true wizard’s magic.  Dwellers can resist, and magelings if they studied well, but a person’s soul wants to sing.  It waits to be set free. “Do you carry it in public?”

I felt her relax.  It was a beautiful song, haunting and fragile, like the last leaf in autumn.  “That’s where the Hebrew saw it.  He offered to buy it right there on Fourth Avenue.  The nerve of him! Of course I refused.  He came to Riverview the next week and offered me two-hundred dollars.  Can you imagine?”

“Quite the price for a kerchief. It’s not even silk.”

“I refused him outright.  How dare he treat me like some sort of street peddler.  I would never take his filthy Hebrew money.”

“Do you remember his name?”

“Yes,” she said. “Manuel Levitt.”

“Rabbi Levitt,” I mumbled.  I released the spell, and the horns blared again. She snapped her eyes away from me.  “If there’s nothing else, you’ll be on your way.”

“Yes, thank you for your time.”  I started to exit the room, but stopped, blocking the doorway.  “I almost forgot, where were you when Stewart was taken?”

She scrunched her face.  “I called on the Jefferies, and then the Lancasters.”

“Thomas and Candace?”

“Yes.  You have their acquaintance?” she said, looking at my rumpled disguise.

“From the
Tribune.
  They throw some fancy parties, from what I hear.”

“Yes, of course,” she said.  “If that is all, you can see yourself out.”

“I will, and I’ll find young Stewart.  Thank you for your help.”  Something in my mind urged me to grab the handkerchief and apparate away.  She didn’t deserve it, and I could put it to great use. I could weave a trinket with that cloth that would be among the most powerful ever, as legendary as Excalibur or Moses’s staff. All the good I could do for my city.  No longer would The Star of Nine or rogues like Cadatchen look down on me.  No longer would the Dwellers grumble and complain, despite my good efforts.  I would command respect, and they would fear my justice. 

I rushed away.

Jonas met me at the entrance hall, and we took our leave.  Once off the estate, Jonas told me what he found. 

“This Vanderlay’s a snake,” he said, adjusting his coat and flicking some coal dust from his shoulder.  “A man like that, he’s capable of anything.”

“Why would he abduct his own boy?”

He waved for a carriage, which failed to even slow for us.  “Don’t know,” he answered, “but I don’t trust him.  What did you find?”

I told him about the handkerchief.  Jonas scoffed. “What does that have to do with the baby?”

“The baby disappeared cradle and all, not an easy feat.  There’s potent magic behind this crime.”

Another carriage sped by, splattering muck on us.  Jonas swore like a stevedore.

“Jonas!”

“Sorry, Pop.  Bad habit I picked up at university.”

“Did they teach you anything useful there?”

He hummed as he thought.  “How to cheat at cards?”  He waved at another carriage and this one took us in.

The carriage seats were worn from years of wear.  I imagined the many people that took this carriage in the past.  Every one living and loving, raising children, and growing old until someone buries them and forgets their name.  With time, everyone becomes an unvisited grave, and their grand schemes mean nothing. 

“Turtle House,” I told him.  He answered in a language that I didn’t know.

“Forty-Seventh and First,” Jonas spat.  This time the coachman snapped his reins and we rolled down the avenue.

“What else did you learn, Pop?”

“There are two magelings that might be involved.  One of them is Jewish, the other is…odd.  I’ll have to call on them.”

“You found more than I did,” he said.  “I can’t believe that no one heard anything.  Someone’s getting coin for being quiet.”

“With magic, anything is possible.”

“The same with money.”

We stopped in front of Turtle House and I paid the coachman.  He left without a word.

I thought about what Jonas said, about money equating to magic.  In this situation, the culprit would have to have both.  I knew of a few wealthy magelings, and I would call on the most amicable of them tomorrow.  The Rabbi Levitt that Missus Vanderlay spoke of was not wealthy, but he offered a hefty sum for the handkerchief. 

As for Dwellers, the Sidhe could weave magic strong enough, or buy a mageling’s favors.  There were quite a few Sidhe with wealth, but my mind went to Cadatchen.  He was not beyond kidnapping, and if he knew about the handkerchief, he’d double his efforts.  Such magic in his hands would tip the balance of power to his side.  The Star of Nine would burn the city to the ground before allowing a Dweller to control it.

“You’ll stay the night,” I said to Jonas.  “I’ll work those spells again, and a hefty dinner will do you well.  You’ll be your old self in the morning.”

He nodded.  “I hope so. I’m not fond of my new self.”

“Well, I’m off.”  Jonas dabbed his mouth with a napkin and stood.  “Thanks for breakfast.  I’m feeling much better.”

The magic did its work.  Jonas’s eyes were almost back to normal, although his lost teeth would take more time.  It amazed me how a tall, stout man like Jonas could look so much like Anna, who was so small.

Jonas, Hendricks, and I sat at the long table. I washed the taste of venison sausage down with some strong tea and a sticky kruller.

“Where are you going?” I asked.

“I’ll stop back home, and then the hospital for Molly.  She was looking half-dead when I saw her, but if she’s better maybe she’ll have more to spill.”

Hendricks choked on his tea. “You’re going back where the Redcaps nearly killed you?” It took me aback. He rarely spoke in that tone.

“I’m no coward.  I’d like to see them when I’m ready.”

“You’re mad,” Hendricks countered.  “They’ll kill you this time.”

“Hendricks is right,” I said.  “Don’t go back there.”

Jonas threw his hands in the air. “What else am I gonna do?  She’s the one loose thread I have.”

“Find the housekeeper.” 

“That’d take too long. The baby could be gone in days.  Chief Matsell’s got his riverfront men watching the ports, but…”  Jonas set his jaw, and I knew that there was no turning him back.  He was so much like his mother sometimes.  She’d get a look in her eye, and I knew that no magic would change her mind.  It was what I loved most about her.  A strong, clever mind is a precious jewel.

“I see that I won’t be able to stop you.  At least take protection.”

“I’ll bring my barker.”

“Bullets won’t harm Dwellers.  You need iron, or better yet...”  I gestured to the two Dwellers.  “Geebee, can you conjure me a small sack?”

“Right away.”  Gnomes have an inherent ability to conjure home and work tools, anything that would make them more productive.  She reached behind her back and retrieved a small cloth sack with a drawstring.  She gave it to me and I thanked her.

I channel Earth energy, focused my will, and tightened the weave with runes.  The bag filled and I gave it to Jonas.  “Rock-salt,” I said with a grin.  “It burns like iron.  Throw a handful in their face and run.”

“I won’t run,” Jonas said.  “I’ll just have to hit them twice.  I’ll bring a poker, too.  Between all those dueling lessons you gave me and the drunks I’ve had to lay low, I’ll be fizzing.”

“Fair enough.”

I heard his footsteps fade and the front door close.  Geebee and I shared a worried gaze.

“Will we be having a lesson today?”  Hendricks said.