Unhallowed (Rath and Rune #1) - Jordan L. Hawk Page 0,2

“Pieces he can put together to form a figure, or take apart to reveal…what? Foul play?”

Arthur glanced from Mortimer to Sebastian, then back. “I hate to even think it, but…is it possible he stole something, a valuable book perhaps, and took it with him when he left?”

“Then the curses would have gotten him,” Irene replied, taking a long pull from her own beer. “Unless he had magic of his own. Or some kind of amulet to keep them off. He wasn’t a sorcerer, was he?”

Outside of Widdershins, their conversation would have sounded like madness. Here, Irene didn’t bother to keep her voice down.

“Not that I’m aware of,” Sebastian said. “Surely he wouldn’t have stolen a book, though.”

“Perhaps we should conduct an inventory, just to be certain,” Arthur suggested.

Mortimer groaned loudly. “Do you know how many volumes are in the library? It would take forever to inventory the entire place.”

Arthur finished off his drink. “We’ll discuss it further tomorrow. Now, if you’ll excuse me, my wife will be wondering where I’ve gotten off to.”

“How is Laura?” Sebastian asked.

“We had a bit of money come in—a bequest from a relative of hers—so happier than she has been for a while,” Arthur said with a rueful smile.

Sebastian winced. It wasn’t that a librarian’s salary was poor, but Arthur had lost almost everything in the 1907 Panic and been beholden to the charity of relatives ever since. “I’m glad. Hopefully everything is turning around for you.”

“I think it is.”

Mortimer stretched dramatically. “I should leave as well. The family is holding a dinner at Le Calmar,” he said, naming Widdershins’s most expensive restaurant. Arthur’s eyes narrowed, but Mortimer ignored him and instead turned to Irene. “I asked them to keep a place for you, in case you changed your mind.”

“No, thank you,” Irene said firmly.

Mortimer bowed over her hand, kissed her on the cheek, and left along with Arthur. Irene watched her fiancé go, then sighed and turned back to Sebastian. “You don’t think O’Neil stole anything and then fled, do you?”

It was a reasonable explanation. Or, as Mortimer had pointed out, Kelly might have left town with a woman, or a man. Or a traveling circus for all Sebastian knew.

Sebastian was probably worrying over nothing. Being ridiculous. Allowing his emotions, his grief over his mother’s death cloud his judgment.

“No,” he said. “I don’t. Arthur’s wrong to even suspect him.”

“Mortimer is probably right, you know. People do leave, even those born here.”

He took the opportunity to redirect the question. “What do you see in him? Mortimer, I mean. He’s a terrible bore with an inflated sense of his own self-importance, just because he’s a third cousin to the head of the Waite family.”

“He’s not a bore,” Irene objected. Then she considered. “Not much of one, that is. He doesn’t chide me for caring about fashion, or for my weight—”

“There’s nothing wrong with your weight.”

“Yes, Sebastian, I’m quite aware of that. My point is, some men can be annoyingly backwards when it comes to what society so quaintly terms the ‘New Woman,’ as if my ancestresses hadn’t been independent for centuries.”

“Yes, well, they were also powerful sorceresses who could incinerate people.”

“And they never hesitated to use that to their advantage,” she agreed. “Mortimer is entertaining, and joining forces with one of the old families will be of advantage to the Endicotts. Of course, the Waites feel the same about us. It’s a very sensible arrangement.”

“If it makes you happy,” he said dubiously. Not for the first time since meeting Irene, he found himself grateful not to be from a prominent family. It seemed to be a great deal of hassle for not much reward.

Irene finished her drink and stood up herself. “Go home and get some sleep, Sebastian. Work on one of your puzzles, or read a book, or do something to take your mind off O’Neil. He’s gone.”

Sebastian followed her out. While she went to her waiting automobile, he turned away toward the trolley line. The evening breeze ruffled his hair, and the smell of seared fish from one of the restaurants reminded him he hadn’t yet eaten.

He might not have been romantically involved with Kelly O’Neil as Irene had suggested, but Sebastian thought they’d been friends. Or could have been, if they’d spent just a bit more time together. After Rebecca Rath died, Kelly had grieved almost as deeply as a member of the family.

Was there actually something sinister about Kelly’s abrupt resignation? Or did Sebastian just not want to think that his mother’s