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“They have a few of their family properties up for sale.”
“And this would be why. Their problems are quite recent. Something has been severed—a valuable connection, it looks like.”
“A big client or customer?” I wondered.
“Maybe. It was a dark connection, but losing it was bad for them.”
There was one big recent shift in the magical world that I knew of that likely would have serious financial ramifications for some people. “Collegium?” I guessed.
“For that, I’ve just got gossip, not magical insight. I don’t know that Elias—Matilda’s father—was actually involved directly, but I think the Collegium exclusively used their hotels and services for their travel. They were the safe meeting spaces for their business.”
“But we used normal hotels while I was working undercover for them,” I said.
“Because your boss was up to something shady, remember. He was trying to hide things from his boss. And their hotels are mostly outside the United States. They don’t have one in New York. The really valuable contract was the private airline. You’d think the Collegium wouldn’t have needed travel services, given the interdimensional nature of their office building, but they did do a fair amount of traveling. A lot of it may have been for money laundering purposes, though. No Collegium, and the Mayfairs aren’t quite raking in the dough the way they used to. As high as they live, they’d feel the pinch pretty quickly. Thus, the sell-off. When you have multiple apartments you don’t even use with monthly maintenance fees higher than most people’s annual mortgages, it adds up fast.”
“Which means they’d have a possible motive for exposing magic. They’d then be powerful over nonmagical people.”
“And would have an additional market for their services. Just imagine the appeal of a magical hotel to people who recently learned that magic is real. Or think of what a mundane billionaire would pay to travel magically. I’d say you’re on to something. But tread lightly.”
“Yeah, I’ve been warned. I don’t suppose you see any evidence of what they’re up to?”
“Sorry, hon. And what I see won’t hold up in any kind of hearing. I might sometimes be able to point you in the right direction to find something for yourself, but you still have to make a case. And I’d be really careful who you talk to in the Council. Evidence you share with them might end up in a black hole—or worse, it might be twisted around to come back and bite you.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I said, standing to go. “Thanks for your help, and for the insight.”
“You don’t have to worry about her and Owen.”
“I know.”
“You know intellectually. You don’t feel it, though.” She pounded her fist on her breastbone. “That boy sees no one but you. She may try, but she won’t make any headway. I’m not even sure a love spell would work on him.”
“That’s good to know.”
I did feel a little better as I returned to my office. I was sure I was on the right track. Now I just needed proof that people would listen to and that the Mayfairs wouldn’t be able to buy their way out of. All I had right now was hints of financial trouble and rumors about their connections that might speak to motive, and some inconclusive video. I wondered what Owen could tell me about Matilda and who she might be associated with. I also wondered if I should involve him at all. I didn’t want him getting into any trouble, and I had a feeling his old “friend” would be delighted to bring him down.
I’d barely made it back to my office before I got a call summoning me to a meeting with the boss. Was this about the incident at the festival, or had Minerva betrayed me?
When I arrived in Merlin’s office, I thought for a moment that it might actually just be a meeting to discuss the crisis. Only Rod and Owen were there, with no Council representative. Merlin looked pretty grim as he gestured for me to take a seat. “What, exactly, have you lot been up to?” he demanded before I was fully settled.
“Would you care to narrow that down a bit?” Rod asked.
“We don’t have time for you to get clever,” Merlin snapped.
Before any of us had a chance to respond, the office door opened and Jabez Jones entered. He was as aggressively nondescript as he’d been the previous time. “Ah, you’re all here, good,” he said and planted himself in the chair at the end of the table opposite from Merlin. That pretty much sealed the deal. This was definitely going to be an interrogation. The fact that Rod and I were also included gave me hope that it wasn’t just a witch hunt to go after Owen, but it didn’t mean he wouldn’t be under scrutiny.
Jones took his time opening his briefcase, pulling out folders, and shuffling through the documents in his folders. After reviewing the pertinent documents, he took out some blank pages and his fountain pen and carefully filled out the top part of his forms. All the while, we sat there, watching. I suspected it was a deliberate tactic to make us nervous. I tried not to let it work on me, but it’s really hard to tell yourself not to be nervous. Your brain and body tend to know better, and thinking about being nervous, even if you’re telling yourself not to be, only serves to make you more tense.
Owen had gone pale. Before he said so much as a word, he looked guilty. I tried shooting him an encouraging smile, but as uneasy as I was, I was afraid it looked more like a grimace. Merlin sat so still I worried some
one had turned him into a statue. I wasn’t sure he even blinked as he watched Jones go through his routine. Only Rod looked somewhat at ease, leaning casually back in his chair, his eyes a little unfocused, like he was daydreaming. The white knuckles where he gripped the arms of his chair gave him away, though.
Finally, Jones said, still looking at his paperwork, “Hmmm, it seems that you were present at yet another suspicious event.” He looked up, glancing at each of us before settling on Owen. “What can you tell us about it?”
“Not much, I’m afraid,” Owen said. He was making a valiant effort to appear relaxed, but his voice sounded tight and strained. “We saw what happened, but I didn’t see who might have caused it.”
Jones waved a hand, and the cabinet doors hiding the television screen opened. The screen came to life, showing video of the crowd at the concert. I recognized the camera angle as one of the pieces of footage I’d been studying. As people around us danced, our group just stood there. “Hmmm,” Jones said. “I notice that none of you seem to be affected by the spell.”
Rod sat up in his seat. “Actually, if you’ll notice, we’re tapping our feet there for a moment. Then we realized what was going on and put up a shield. We had mundanes with us, including one who wasn’t in on the secret. Our shield also blocked those people around us, so we weren’t the only ones unaffected.”
