Page 17 of Magic for Nothing

“I know. This is an . . . errand, before I go and get some sleep. I’m Annie, by the way.”

“Leonard, although most people call me Leo,” he said, still looking bewildered. “Well, far be it from me to leave a beautiful young woman in distress. I was heading for Cecil Court anyway. Follow me, and we’ll get you to your destination.”

“You work there?” I asked, falling into step next to him as he started up the street—back in the direction I’d come from, naturally. Sometimes my sense of direction is unforgivable.

“Family business,” he said. “I put in a few days a month, to keep my hand in. What brings you to London?”

“Family business,” I said. I tried to grimace and yawn at the same time. The resulting expression probably looked like an animation error.

Leo chuckled. “Let’s get you where you’re going before you pass out on your feet.”

“Thanks,” I said gratefully, and kept following him. He could have been leading me into a trap and I would have gone willingly, just to know where I was. In a way, I suppose that’s exactly what he was doing. He was leading me to the Covenant.

We crossed the street and entered what I had assumed was an alley when I’d passed it before. Silly me. Leo stopped at a storefront. Ornate gold letters on a window display packed with antique hardcovers proclaimed CUNNINGHAM & SONS, EST. 1751.

“This is where I get off,” he said. “I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

“I just did,” I said.

He frowned. “Excuse me?”

“Cunningham and Sons,” I said, indicating the door behind him. “This is where I’m supposed to go.”

His eyes widened, surprise radiating through his features. Then his face smoothed out, turning neutral. “Oh,” he said. “I see.”

“Yeah,” I said.

“I’ll just—”

“Yeah.”

He held the door for me. That was a nice touch. He closed and locked it once I was inside. That was less nice, more “this is how the horror movie begins.” I would have been concerned, but honestly, I was too tired for concern, and this was only the beginning. If I couldn’t survive my initial encounter with the Covenant, I might as well not have come. Mindy could find her way home. She knew where the airport was, and mice make amazingly good stowaways when you couple their small size with human intelligence. She’d be okay.

If I’d been aware that exhaustion would make me this calm in the face of death, I would have stopped sleeping years ago.

“Are you not open?” I asked, turning to watch as he pulled the shade over the door. “Because I can come back later, if you need me to. I saw a coffee shop up the street.”

“You saw a few dozen, I’m sure,” said Leo. He pushed past me, heading for a door behind the counter. “Please stay where you are, and touch nothing. I’m going to get my grandfather.”

“Sure,” I said, and yawned again, smothering it with my hand.

Leo vanished, leaving me alone with the door—which, while locked, I could easily have opened. This was a test. I wasn’t sure whether it was the sort of test where they hunted me down and killed me for letting myself out, or the sort of test where they were giving me one last chance to change my mind. It honestly didn’t matter, because I wasn’t going anywhere. I stayed where I was, yawning occasionally, and waited.

Seconds ticked by, becoming minutes. I began considering going somewhere after all: to sleep on their floor. They could wake me when they wanted me to talk.

The door behind the counter opened. Leo reappeared, followed by a man who looked a lot like an older version of him. Much older: unlike my grandparents, his had the good grace to show their actual age. He was still in good shape, with a trim figure and surprisingly regal bearing. He was just wrinkled and gray-haired at the same time. Leo’s grandfather was well-groomed, what my mother would have called a “natty dresser” in his suit and tie, and leaning on a polished wooden cane that probably contained a sword, or at least had a poisoned tip. I stood a little straighter, smothering another yawn. You only get one chance to make a first impression. I wanted to survive this one.

They walked toward me, taking their time. I didn’t say anything, giving them the space to look me over. Leo’s grandfather seemed to be looking harder than Leo himself; Leo, in fact, looked slightly sick, like he hadn’t been planning on spending his day hiding a body. The urge to say something pithy and reassuring was almost overwhelming. I swallowed it and kept waiting.

Finally, the older man spoke. “My name is Reginald Cunningham,” he said. “This is my establishment. Please state your business in a succinct and coherent fashion.”

“My name is Timpani Brown,” I said. Technically, that was the truth: “Timpani” is my middle name, and “Brown” was my great-grandmother’s maiden name, which means it’s mine to claim if I want it. The Covenant only ever knew her as Frances Healy, and she’d been a foundling: the name had been a gift to her by the people who did the finding, and she’d given it to the rest of the family, a get-out-of-jail free card in its own way. If the Covenant had a routewitch to sic on my name, they’d find nothing about it that wasn’t true. “I’m looking for . . . I mean, I was told that if I came here, I could find . . .” I stopped, letting my fear and uncertainty shine through.

The best lies are built on a sturdy foundation of truth. The more honesty you can put into a con, the more chance you’ll have to run it all the way to the end.

“Looking for what?” asked the older Mr. Cunningham. There was still no gentleness in his voice, but he sounded a little less cold: my routine was working. “A first edition? A folio? This is a rare bookstore.”

“But that’s not . . . all it is, is it?” I looked between them, trying to project anxiety. “I didn’t fly to London for a bookstore.”