Page 26 of The Society of Unknowable Objects
Henrietta pulled a phone from the pocket of her coat and tapped it for a few seconds before passing it over. Magda squinted at the footage—it showed her as a distant shape, flying through the sky above Hong Kong.
“Oh no,” she groaned. “What are people saying about it?”
“They’re saying it’s fake or computer-generated or an advertising campaign or something.” Henry flapped a hand as if dismissing the various theories, her bangles jangling. “I doubt anyone really believes a short ginger woman flew through the air in Hong Kong.”
“No, of course not,” Magda muttered. “But if I was a leggy blonde, they’d all want to know who I was.”
Henrietta grinned at her as she slipped the phone back into her pocket. “I’ve missed you, Magda.”
“So what are you doing here?” Magda asked. “Why did you break into my house?Howdid you break in?”
“I had to see you, dear,” she said. “Watching you cavort so elegantly through the sky gave me hope that maybe things had changed. Maybeyouhad changed.”
Magda didn’t understand, staring with narrowed eyes at Henry as if she could make her make sense by sheer will alone.
“I didn’t expect you to have a nervous breakdown as soon as you saw me,” Henry continued. “It’s very un-Magda-like, if you don’t mind me saying.”
Magda sighed. “I don’t feel very Magda at the moment,” she admitted. “But what things did you think had changed?”
Henrietta shrugged. “Well, I was rather hoping that you had given up believing all of Frank Simpson’s lies.”
The grandfather clock in the hall sounded a slow, disapprovingtsktskinto the silence that followed Henrietta’s words.
“Frank doesn’t lie,” Magda said. “Sometimes he doesn’t answer questions, but he doesn’t lie, Henry.”
Henry bobbed her head from side to side as if suggesting there was a debate to be had, and that infuriated Magda.
“Well, regardless, there’s no way the Frank I know would let you fly about like that,” Henrietta explained. “So either you have an item he doesn’t know about, or Frank has changed his views on the use of artefacts.”
Magda, sipping her tea and staring into the dark fireplace, tried to think about what Henry was saying.
After a moment, Henry asked, “What were you doing in Hong Kong anyway?”
“Investigating an item,” Magda answered, and Henrietta’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.
“What, a real-life magical item? Surely not?”
Magda simply nodded.
“What was it?”
Magda regarded Henrietta for a moment, swithering over whether to answer. Finally she got up and retrieved the artefact from the pocket of her coat in the hall. It was still wrapped in its bloodred tissue. She passed it to Henry, who in turn placed it on the table to unwrap.
“Chess piece,” she said, when she saw what it was. She cooed. “It’s lovely.”
Magda nodded her agreement.
It is lovely. But a man died for it. A nice man.
“What does it do?” Henrietta asked, and her obvious fascination with the chess piece grated on Magda.
“Don’t know. Haven’t had a chance to do anything with it. A man died.”
Henry looked up sharply.
“He found it, and he was showing it to me. And then a man with a gun interrupted us. And...” Magda hesitated, the words suddenly huge and obstructive in her throat, and she knew that if she forced them out, she would lose control once again. She just shook her head at Henry, her eyes damp.
“I’m sorry,” Henry said. “I’m being insensitive.”
