Part 18 (1/2)

There came a loud popping sound, and Oona whirled around to see her uncle lying on the ground, once again filling his Wizard's robes and fully restored to his human form.

He sat up, his eyes round and toadlike, but they were his eyes, Oona could tell, and relief flooded through her like a river.

”Well, well,” the Wizard said after Samuligan had helped him to his feet. He poked his finger through the hole in his robe where the dagger had sliced through. ”That was certainly interesting.”

Oona ran to him, throwing her arms around him and squeezing him around the middle, feeling immensely grateful that he had actually used words and had not croaked like a toad.

”There, I did it!” Ravensmith cried through the portrait. ”Now, someone please get me out of here. There is dust everywhere. And I have to go to the bathroom!”

They stood at the gate to Pendulum House: the Wizard, Samuligan, Deacon, and Oona, who felt as if her legs were about to give out on her.

Several clock towers tolled in the distance.

”Well, it's midnight,” Oona said.

”He didn't show,” Deacon said. ”He may be a crook, but he's a smart man, that Red Martin.”

The Wizard grinned. ”Word spread rather quickly when Ravensmith was hauled off to jail, cursing Red Martin all the way to the police station for making no attempt to rescue him. Considering that the house was planned for demolition, I'm surprised Ravensmith remained silent in there so long. He put too much faith in Red Martin to save him. Clearly they were working together on the whole thing. Unfortunately, this is mostly my fault. When I began to run low on money several years ago, it was Ravensmith who suggested that I borrow from a private moneylender. I did not like the idea, but Ravensmith told me it was my only option, since the banks would not loan me any money ... and I suppose I trusted the lawyer far more than he deserved. I sort of closed my eyes to it and just let it happen. I never read a single word of the legal contracts myself. I simply signed them blindly. All I knew was that it was through a company called Dupington. Ravensmith took care of the details. But I should have seen that he was a complete hypocrite. It was Ravensmith who encouraged me to take the loans ... and then he would criticize me for spending the money as I wished. Of course he knew how much I disliked the subject of money. He set me up perfectly.”

”What will happen now?” Deacon asked.

”Well, there will be a trial, of course,” the Wizard said, ”and Miss Sanora Crone will have to testify that Red Martin blackmailed the witches into stealing the daggers from the museum. Trials are tricky things, and Red Martin is clearly a clever man. How it will all turn out is anyone's guess.”

”What about Red Martin's confession that he had my father killed?” Oona asked. She felt a sharp twinge of anger at the memory. ”The witches were all there. They all heard him say it.”

”Let's hope that they all remember as clearly as you do,” the Wizard said. ”As I said, Red Martin is quite a tricky man. As you learned for yourself, Oona, he has the resources and know-how to slip through the Gla.s.s Gates to the Land of Faerie. No one else has ever managed to do that. I have a feeling he will be quite a difficult man to capture.” The wrinkles about the Wizard's eyes sagged, and his face drew out in an expression of deep regret. ”Had I known that I was borrowing money from the very scoundrel behind my brother's death, I would never have allowed myself to be convinced to borrow the money in the first place; no matter how much I trusted Ravensmith. I hope you know that, Oona dear.”

Oona nodded. She could not blame her uncle for being duped. He was a trusting sort of person, and that was one of the things about him she loved. But she could not help herself from saying: ”Perhaps you should be more careful about what you sign, Uncle.”

The Wizard gave her a knowing grin. ”Oh, I will. I hope you will be careful as well, Oona dear.”

Oona smiled back, remembering the doc.u.ment on the table and how her hand had tingled when she'd placed the pen to the bottom of the page.

Samuligan said: ”But now that the Wizard has returned, Red Martin certainly won't be able to get his hands on Pendulum House. At least I won't be needing to polish that scoundrel's boots.”

”That is definitely a relief,” Deacon said rather dryly. Samuligan gave him a wicked smile, and Deacon s.h.i.+vered on Oona's shoulder.

The Wizard clapped his hands together. ”What would you all say to joining the festivities at the park? It is only midnight, and the masquerade is just getting started. I believe a little frivolity is in order.”

Oona's heart fumbled at the mention of the park. She wasn't so sure she was ready for that. She was just about to tell her uncle how she felt when a boy stepped into the light of the nearby streetlamp, removing his masquerade mask as he did so.

”I came to see if there's anything I could do,” said Adler Iree. Dressed in a fine, formal tuxedo, he stood beside the streetlamp, the multicolored tattoos on his face glinting in the light.

Oona smiled at him, her heart quickening in her chest. The boy cleaned up nicely, and even with his insistence on wearing that ratty old top hat, Oona felt sure that the contrast made him all the more handsome.

She considered him for a moment before saying: ”There is something you can do, Mr. Iree.”

Adler smiled, the tattoos crinkling above his cheeks.

”And what would that be, Miss Crate?” he asked.

Oona frowned, though the frown did not reach her eyes. ”Why ... Adler ... I should think it quite obvious.”

When Adler's eyebrows pinched together, betraying his confusion, Oona shook her head and was quite surprised by her own words.

”You may escort me to the masquerade, silly,” she said. ”You really must work on your powers of deduction.”

Samuligan tipped his hat back on his head and examined Oona with his sharp faerie eyes. ”Surely you cannot attend the ball in that dress.”

Oona looked down at the green dress she had changed into earlier. The color matched her eyes perfectly, yet truth be told, Samuligan was right. It was a rather simple dress for the likes of a masquerade.

Samuligan grabbed hold of the skirt in his long fingers. For half a moment she thought he was going to tear it, but instead, the faerie servant clucked his tongue against the side of his mouth and clicked his teeth. An instant later Samuligan stepped back, and Oona's dress seemed to glow. It was still the same shade of green, but now the color of the dress seemed somehow alive, pulsing and moving, glittering hypnotically at the simplest movement.