Phineas stopped and let Colin and Clive walk on ahead. When the procession reached the square, Phineas stepped off the cobblestones at the front step of Spellbinders Bookstore & Library, and let himself in. The bell over the door rang gently.
The rest of the crowd flowed on into the open door of The Boozy Cauldron. Murphy O'Reilly was behind the bar with four glasses in motion at once. Two visiting witches at a table had already opened a bottle. The Marseille sisters had stopped arguing and were eating bowls of stew. Clive sat with Colin and Gloria at a table by the fire. Edgar and Rhoda stood at the bar with Honey and Roam beside them. Lazlo had taken the small round table tucked in the corner. Sean McLeary and Uma O'Reilly sat together at the far end of the bar.
Leahnora Loveridge arrived at half past four exactly. Baval came with her but did not come inside. The raven settled on the post outside the pub window and watched. Leahnora crossed to the small platform Murphy used for music nights, and lifted her hand once. The pub did not entirely quiet. The pub did not entirely need to.
"Friends," Leahnora said. "Before we begin, a small matter of council. Sean McLeary will be staying on in Cauldron Falls. He will be supporting Detective Chief Inspector Roam O'Reilly through this work and beyond."
There was no applause. There did not need to be. At the far end of the bar, Uma tried not to smile and did not quite manage it. Sean beamed at her. Behind the bar, Murphy O'Reilly stopped polishing the glass in his hand. He looked at his daughter and the lad beside her and chuckled. Then he went back to polishing.
"Now. To the matter at hand."
Leahnora made it brief. The town knew what she knew, she said, and so she would not waste their time on what the townalready knew. Nadia Costin had been killed in Sibiu. There was no known connection between her death and what was happening within the familiar community. There was no known connection between her death and anyone in this room. The town would carry on with all the care it was capable of, and the Hadwins would carry on with the work they were doing, and Cauldron Falls would work together.
A voice came from the back. "And if it is one of us causing all this?"
The voice belonged to the tall thin warlock with the yellow scarf.
"What did ye say?" That came from the bearded warlock across the room.
"I said, if it is one of us."
The bearded warlock stood. "And what would ye mean by that, sir."
"I would mean that one of us brought this. That one of us is the reason the cats are spillin'. Else why would all the cats come here. If one of us can do that, maybe one of us killed that poor girl?"
The pub erupted around them. "How dare you." "Mind yer mouth." "Don't ye dare."
Magic was beginning to crackle around the two warlocks, small showy magic, the kind a warlock throws when he wants to be seen throwing it. The pub was beginning to scrape its chairs back. Murphy slammed his hand on the bar.
"That'll do, the both of ye."
He did not move from behind the bar. He did not need to. Roam and Sean were already crossing the pub at speed. Sean reached the bearded warlock.
"Sir. Sit down." He was polite.
"Mr. McLeary, that yellow-scarfed scoundrel."
"Sit. Down." Sean barked. The bearded warlock sat down.
Roam crossed to the yellow-scarfed warlock and laid a hand on his shoulder that was firm and kind at once. "You, too."
The yellow-scarfed warlock did not sit down at first. He stood for one breath longer than he should have, and Roam's low growl put him in his seat. Murphy, behind the bar, did not relax. He filled three glasses he had not been asked to fill and pushed them across the wood to people who had not asked for them.
Oona Pierce had been on a stool at the bar. She rose. "I shall need," she announced to the room at large, "the loo. If anyone wishes to start an actual fight in my absence, do please save me a corner of it."
A small ripple of laughter went around the pub. Some of the air came back into the room. Oona made her way through the crowd toward the back of the pub and disappeared down the narrow corridor.
Maeve Byrne set her glass down hard on the bar. "Murph."
"Aye, lass." He didn't look at her, he had his eyes on the troublemakers.
"I need a moment of air." She wiped her mouth on her sleeve.
"Aye." Murphy pointed with his thumb. "Out the back. Stop's a pot of marigolds against the brick. Don't kick it. My ma planted it in 1894."
Maeve slid off the stool and went down the same corridor Oona had gone down. In the corner away from the commotion Lazlo set down his pint and rose, nodded politely to the table nearest him, and crossed toward the same corridor and the gentlemen's washroom.
Inside Spellbinders, behind the counter at the back of the shop, the owl bracket clicked twice and went still. Phineas Grove came out of the back room and paused at the front counter. From the inner pocket of his coat he drew a single folded sheet of paper. He smoothed it on the counter, read the address, picked it up, and put it back in his pocket.
