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“Please, have a seat,” Merlin said to the newcomers with an expansive gesture. “Thank you for coming on such short notice on such a busy day.”
Minerva sat across from Merlin and beckoned to her associate. “Come on, Grace, sit over here by me.” She’d positioned the possible traitor so she’d have to get past all of us to get to the door.
“I thought it was a good time to update everyone on the status of our project,” Merlin said. “We’ve run into a few obstacles, the first of which being that we appear to have someone within the company working at cross-purposes to our operation. Someone has provided misleading information to our team, has withheld useful information that should have been easily obtained, and is sending information about our team’s activities to people who are interfering with and even attacking our people.” If you didn’t listen to his words, Merlin’s tone sounded like he was starting any ordinary staff meeting. He even looked perfectly calm and neutral.
But as Grace heard his words, her face went as white as her blouse. She jerked back in her chair, like she was trying to shove away from the table so she could flee, but Minerva reached over and pushed her chair back up to the table. “Now, Grace, the meeting’s just getting started,” she said.
Merlin continued as though there had been no interruption. “Do you have any input on this matter, Miss Spencer?”
Grace stammered, then blurted, “I don’t know anything about it.”
“You brought me some reports not too long ago,” Merlin said.
“Yes, sir, I did.”
“While you were here, I took a phone call and discussed where our people would go next. Our enemies happened to converge on the spot I mentioned, very soon after you left my office. I find that interesting, don’t you?”
Grace glanced from side to side, as though trying to decide whether she was more afraid of Merlin or Minerva, but she kept her mouth shut.
“And here’s the interesting part,” Merlin said. “They weren’t really there. It wasn’t a real phone call. What you overheard was bait.”
“And you took it, honey,” Minerva concluded, sounding more disappointed than angry. I recognized the tactic from the way my dad dealt with my brothers. The tone of disappointment was far more painful than anger. “Now, why would you go and do something so silly? I’m dying to hear who you’re really working for. I’ve been under the mistaken impression that it was me.”
A battle seemed to rage within Grace, as she wavered between continuing to play innocent and throwing herself on her boss’s mercy. She went with an entirely different approach that I didn’t think any of us saw coming. She straightened her spine and looked down her nose at Minerva as she said with a sneer, “Because I believe in true magic, not in power that is so bastardized by the modern age.”
Owen reached for his pages of spell notes, a light dawning in his eyes. “You mean, the only good magic is the pure magic from the old grimoires,” he said softly.
Her face lit up, losing the anger and wariness that had been there a moment before. “Yes! We are wizards. We have no need for technology. Long before anyone invented the engine or ways to generate and use electricity, we had power—true power. And we have weakened ourselves by not using it that way.” Her eyes glittered with the depth of her passion, but then they turned hard and cold as she glared at Owen. “You’re one of the worst—you, who took old spells and created new things out of them, taking away their purity.”
“So, you’re like magical Amish?” I asked. “Anything modern is wicked?” Now I saw her conservative business attire in a new light—and I came to the uncomfortable realization that I’d liked her outfit because it was almost identical to mine. Her hairstyle was more severe, and her blouse was buttoned up all the way, but everything she had on could have come from my closet. I’m making Gemma take me shopping this weekend, I thought as I surreptitiously unbuttoned another button on my blouse.
“I don’t understand the reference, but we do believe that wizards have lost their way and should return to their roots.”
Minerva raised an eyebrow. “And what the blazes does that have to do with your spying on this company and interfering with our efforts to retrieve the Eye of the Moon?”
Instead of answering her, Grace turned to Merlin and said, “You were one of the true wizards who created the magical foundations, and we knew that when you came back, you would restore things to the way they should be. But instead, you did this.” She gestured disdainfully at the executive office, with its telephone, computer, and conference table.
She turned to Owen. “You’re just as corrupt—even more so, because you were the one to corrupt Merlin, teaching him your wicked modern ways, infecting him with technology. And you were punished for it. That’s why you lost your magical powers. Impurity must be punished!” Her voice grew shrill as her fervor overtook her reserve. “But we will purify the magical world!” As if realizing she’d said too much, she clamped her lips together and stared straight ahead.
Merlin leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers. “Normally, I am very tolerant of other approaches to magic. There is certainly merit to the old ways, and it is good for us to remember how to work pure magic without the need for technology or other tools. But this isn’t the time for a philosophical discussion. I want to know what the brooch has to do with this and why you’re interfering with our efforts to contain it.”
“I’m not seeing the link between the brooch and magical purity,” I said, shaking my head. “Why would anyone want to stir up that kind of trouble?”
“Remember Bobby Burton, the volunteer fireman back home?” Granny asked me.
“The one they caught setting fires because he wanted to play hero and be seen putting them out?” I turned back to Grace. “That’s it, isn’t it? Your people stole the brooch from the gnomes, not Sylvester. Your plan was to create a threat to the magical world by setting that brooch loose, and then your people could swoop in when Merlin’s team failed to save the day, proving that the old ways are the best and discrediting Merlin as a leader in the magical world—maybe then with your leader having the brooch so he can solidify his power.”
“Only, everything would be ruined if we got there first and prevented the trouble, so you had to make sure that didn’t happen,” Owen said.
Grace tried to remain stoic, but she had a terrible poker face. She winced every time someone said something that must have hit close to the truth, which was as good as a confirmation.
Minerva turned to Merlin. “She came to work here very soon after the customer conference last summer when we officially announced your return. They must have planted her then to spy on you. I’m sorry, I should have seen this coming. After all, that’s my job.” She then asked Grace, “Did your people have the brooch then or were you merely being put in place to be useful someday?” Grace’s lips twitched, and she bit her lower lip.
Owen faced Grace and said, “But do you really understand what you’re dealing with in the Eye? How could you be so sure that you’d be able to save the day? What if you couldn’t?”
“I created it, and I wasn’t able to develop a way to resist or counter it,” Merlin said. “I am concerned that this plan was poorly conceived, and that may put all of us at risk.”
Grace went a little paler, and I noticed her throat move like she was swallowing a lump. Beads of sweat formed on her forehead and upper lip, but she didn’t answer.
