Page 8 of A Resistance of Witches

“One of the curators. Well, the curator’s assistant, I think. Big fella with a nasty right hook. Handsome, too, but we didn’t exactly have time to get acquainted, what with me being a fat old Frenchman at the time.”

The realization was dawning on Lydia now. “Last week you went home for a few days and came back with that horrible fat lip. You told me you’d been out walking and fell on your gob.”

“I know, but I didn’t! I was in Dordogne, getting punched in the face!” Kitty was obviously delighted with herself.

Lydia wrapped her arms around her friend. “Kitty, I love you, but you are absolutely mad.”

“I’m just glad I can finally tell you! So there I am, being old, and dull, andFrench, and praying to the Mother that I can get my hands on this bloody book before the fella I’m impersonating comes back from the café where my Traveler, that absoluteprig, Fiona McGann—”

“Fiona McGann is no prig! Why, she abducted that Nazi scientist last month with nothing but a nail file and a simple muddling charm. Really, Kitty, if I didn’t know better, I would say you’re jealous—”

“Jealous?Why wouldIbe jealous?”

“Because Fiona’s nearly as good a Glamourer as you are, and we both know you couldn’t travel into the next room if I paid you.”

Kitty gave her a filthy look. “I happen to be aspecialist. Can I finish?” She waited until Lydia gave her an exasperated nod. “Right, so horrible, uptight Fiona McGann is batting her lashes and getting the real Frenchman pissed in some café. Meanwhile, I find where they’re keeping the book, and pop open the crate, when who comes along but Henri bloody Boudreaux!”

“And he just punched you? With no provocation?”

“Well, no. First, I tried to talk my way out of it, and then I tried running, and then we tussled for a little bit, andthenhe punched me.”

“Oh, Kitty.”

“But when he punched me, I dropped my glamour. So, there we are, he’s just seen a fat old Frenchman turn into a beautiful fiery-haired maiden, and he’s punched her right in the mouth! He was off me in a second, but he’d also grabbed the book. Anyway, I had to get out of there, so I took off running. I broke in and tried again the next night, but by then it was too late. The book was gone. So here we are.”

“Kitty, he saw you?” Lydia sat up on the bed. “The curator saw you drop your glamour?”

“Relax. Nobody will believe him. I’d be surprised if he still believes it himself.”

Lydia couldn’t imagine how the man could ever forget such a thing, but held her tongue. “That piece of the book you stole. Where is it?”

“Isadora has it. Said it needed to be kept under lock and key until the full moon, when we could trace it, just for safekeeping.”

Kitty was getting bored now that the topic had shifted away from her grand adventures in France. She sat up and began fussing with Lydia’s hair, pulling out the pins and rearranging the curls.

“What do you need me there for, anyway? I thought you Projectionists could find anything, anywhere, just by putting your mind to it.”

Lydia laughed; Kitty had never had the patience for advanced projection. “It doesn’t work like that. If I’ve touched something, like, say, this hairpin, then I can project to it anytime I like. I could even project toyou, if I had to. But I’ve never touched theGrimorium Bellum. I wouldn’t know where to start.”

“You’ve never touched theGrimorium Bellum, but I have. Is that right?” Kitty fluffed Lydia’s hair, making it go wild.

“Exactly. TheGrimorium Bellumleft a mark on you the second you touched it, and that’s what I’ll use to track it. There are other ways too. Using a piece of the thing, like that scrap of paper you nicked. Or if I goto the place where an object once was, sometimes I can follow the trail from there.”

“So you don’t need me after all.” Kitty sprawled across the bed with her feet in Lydia’s lap. “Thank the Mother. I can’t stand these fussy late-night rituals, and black really isn’t my color.”

Lydia gave Kitty’s leg a swat. “I do, too, need you.”

“Och,why?”

“For insurance, mostly. Using a piece of the thing can be difficult if it’s too small or too damaged. If that happens, I’ll have you to draw from instead.”

Kitty groaned. “Fine. But I’m wearing your pearl earrings to the ceremony.”

“Go ahead. They’re fake.”

Kitty gave Lydia’s shoulder a playful nudge. “What will it be like, anyway? Will you go into a trance and speak in tongues?”

“No.”

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