Charmfall
Page 35
“What happens in Gaslight Goods does not stay in Gaslight Goods?”
“Precisely.”
My stomach turned. I had almost given away the secret form of Scout’s Grimoire to some guy I didn’t even know just because he worked in a magic shop. Just because I’d assumed he seemed like a nice guy and, therefore, would have been some kind of Adept sympathizer. I was a magical disaster waiting to happen.
“I am so sorry,” I said, but she shook her head. “I had no idea.”
“No harm, no foul. Even if he figured it out, I could always change the form. We just have to be careful.”
We might have to be careful, but if Kite really liked to gossip, maybe we could use that to our advantage.
Kite emerged from the back room with an open cardboard box in hand. We followed him to the candles, where he began restocking the shelves.
Scout grabbed a couple. “So, Kite, how are things around the store?”
He made a low whistle. “Very, very slow. The blackout hasn’t exactly been good for business. Not many people stocking up on supplies when they aren’t sure when they’ll be able to use them again.”
“You know about the blackout?” I asked. Scout rolled her eyes.
“It’s not exactly common knowledge,” Kite said, “but I like to stay in the loop.”
Speaking of which: “Kite, we’ve heard Reapers are having some internal issues. Like, folks are really mad at Jeremiah. What’s your take on that?”
Scout’s eyes widened at my question, but then she smiled a little. She must have figured out where I was going.
“Only that the hierarchy’s getting nervous.”
“Hierarchy?” I asked.
“The Scions,” Scout put in. “Jeremiah and the others. The ones who lead the rest of them into committing heinous acts.”
“Switzerland,” Kite reminded her, and she gave him a canny smile.
“So why are they getting nervous?” I asked. “We’ve heard there are lots of rumors floating around the sanctuaries. Are the rumors making folks nervous?”
Kite shook his head. “My theory? People are nervous, and the rumors are how they’re coping.”
“How so?” Scout asked.
“Well, there are two tiers within the Dark Elite. Just like with Adepts, there are the ones who fight the war—who hang out in the sanctuaries and are in touch with the leadership, and there are the ones who stay home and mind their business. They’re called the ‘old ones.’ They keep their magic quietly. They take energy a little at a time. Slowly. Carefully. They don’t get wrapped up in the politics, and they tend to believe in fairy tales.”
“Fairy tales?” I repeated.
Kite nodded. “Think old-school fairy tales—the terrifying kind where everybody learns an important lesson about wandering around in the dark alone. Only they tend to think of them more like history than children’s stories.”
Okay, that was weird. But it got weirder.
Kite looked around, then leaned in. “Anyway, last week a few of these old-school types come in, and they’re fretting about leadership, and one of them mentions this old Scottish fairy tale about a boy named Campbell.”
“Who was he?” I asked.
“Supposedly, he led an army against the evil baron who was controlling their area of Scotland. He was helped by a band of fairies and pixies—little magical creatures—but after he won control of the country, he became as evil as the guy he’d replaced. Eventually, he banished the fairies and pixies from his country.”
Scout and I exchanged a glance. It was sad, sure, but an old fairy tale didn’t exactly help us figure out who was making trouble in modern-day Chicago.
“I don’t get it,” Scout said. “What does this have to do with Reapers?”
“They’re repeating the story like it’s gospel,” Kite said. “Every time they talk about Jeremiah, someone brings up the tale of Campbell.”
“Okay,” Scout said, “but maybe they’re just saying the grass is greener, or whatever. You know, don’t complain about what we have, ’cause the next guy could be worse?”
“Honestly,” Kite continued, “I don’t know if they believe it or if they just want to. They’re completely without magic right now, and they want someone to blame. Jeremiah’s the obvious choice. I think the rumors are making the Scions nervous. Rumors have power, after all.” He slid us a glance. “Have you heard anything else?”
“Not really,” Scout said, and Kite frowned.
Maybe, I thought, it was time to get more specific. “Kite, have you seen Sebastian Born in here lately?”
He blinked, then seemed to mull it over. “Sebastian? Not for a few days. Again, that’s probably because of the blackout.”
“Could you give us a call if he comes in again?” I asked.
“Is there anything in it for me? I mean, to be fair, I am running a business here. And business is slow.”
I was already committed, so I kept pushing along. “How about information?”
He perked up. “What did you have in mind?”
Scout had mentioned that trying to take her Grimoire was a breach of magical etiquette. Maybe if Kite knew about it, and spread the word about it, Reapers would get embarrassed enough to back off. Long shot? Sure. But I was grasping at straws.
“Members of the Dark Elite broke into St. Sophia’s today,” I finally said.
“Precisely.”
My stomach turned. I had almost given away the secret form of Scout’s Grimoire to some guy I didn’t even know just because he worked in a magic shop. Just because I’d assumed he seemed like a nice guy and, therefore, would have been some kind of Adept sympathizer. I was a magical disaster waiting to happen.
“I am so sorry,” I said, but she shook her head. “I had no idea.”
“No harm, no foul. Even if he figured it out, I could always change the form. We just have to be careful.”
We might have to be careful, but if Kite really liked to gossip, maybe we could use that to our advantage.
Kite emerged from the back room with an open cardboard box in hand. We followed him to the candles, where he began restocking the shelves.
Scout grabbed a couple. “So, Kite, how are things around the store?”
He made a low whistle. “Very, very slow. The blackout hasn’t exactly been good for business. Not many people stocking up on supplies when they aren’t sure when they’ll be able to use them again.”
“You know about the blackout?” I asked. Scout rolled her eyes.
“It’s not exactly common knowledge,” Kite said, “but I like to stay in the loop.”
Speaking of which: “Kite, we’ve heard Reapers are having some internal issues. Like, folks are really mad at Jeremiah. What’s your take on that?”
Scout’s eyes widened at my question, but then she smiled a little. She must have figured out where I was going.
“Only that the hierarchy’s getting nervous.”
“Hierarchy?” I asked.
“The Scions,” Scout put in. “Jeremiah and the others. The ones who lead the rest of them into committing heinous acts.”
“Switzerland,” Kite reminded her, and she gave him a canny smile.
“So why are they getting nervous?” I asked. “We’ve heard there are lots of rumors floating around the sanctuaries. Are the rumors making folks nervous?”
Kite shook his head. “My theory? People are nervous, and the rumors are how they’re coping.”
“How so?” Scout asked.
“Well, there are two tiers within the Dark Elite. Just like with Adepts, there are the ones who fight the war—who hang out in the sanctuaries and are in touch with the leadership, and there are the ones who stay home and mind their business. They’re called the ‘old ones.’ They keep their magic quietly. They take energy a little at a time. Slowly. Carefully. They don’t get wrapped up in the politics, and they tend to believe in fairy tales.”
“Fairy tales?” I repeated.
Kite nodded. “Think old-school fairy tales—the terrifying kind where everybody learns an important lesson about wandering around in the dark alone. Only they tend to think of them more like history than children’s stories.”
Okay, that was weird. But it got weirder.
Kite looked around, then leaned in. “Anyway, last week a few of these old-school types come in, and they’re fretting about leadership, and one of them mentions this old Scottish fairy tale about a boy named Campbell.”
“Who was he?” I asked.
“Supposedly, he led an army against the evil baron who was controlling their area of Scotland. He was helped by a band of fairies and pixies—little magical creatures—but after he won control of the country, he became as evil as the guy he’d replaced. Eventually, he banished the fairies and pixies from his country.”
Scout and I exchanged a glance. It was sad, sure, but an old fairy tale didn’t exactly help us figure out who was making trouble in modern-day Chicago.
“I don’t get it,” Scout said. “What does this have to do with Reapers?”
“They’re repeating the story like it’s gospel,” Kite said. “Every time they talk about Jeremiah, someone brings up the tale of Campbell.”
“Okay,” Scout said, “but maybe they’re just saying the grass is greener, or whatever. You know, don’t complain about what we have, ’cause the next guy could be worse?”
“Honestly,” Kite continued, “I don’t know if they believe it or if they just want to. They’re completely without magic right now, and they want someone to blame. Jeremiah’s the obvious choice. I think the rumors are making the Scions nervous. Rumors have power, after all.” He slid us a glance. “Have you heard anything else?”
“Not really,” Scout said, and Kite frowned.
Maybe, I thought, it was time to get more specific. “Kite, have you seen Sebastian Born in here lately?”
He blinked, then seemed to mull it over. “Sebastian? Not for a few days. Again, that’s probably because of the blackout.”
“Could you give us a call if he comes in again?” I asked.
“Is there anything in it for me? I mean, to be fair, I am running a business here. And business is slow.”
I was already committed, so I kept pushing along. “How about information?”
He perked up. “What did you have in mind?”
Scout had mentioned that trying to take her Grimoire was a breach of magical etiquette. Maybe if Kite knew about it, and spread the word about it, Reapers would get embarrassed enough to back off. Long shot? Sure. But I was grasping at straws.
“Members of the Dark Elite broke into St. Sophia’s today,” I finally said.
