Page 12 of Hexbound
Agatha caught Miss Hawkins's chin, turning it this way and that. "Hmm," she said, reaching for the girl's left glove and tugging it off. There was a tattoo on the back of her hand, though he couldn't see what it was. "I wouldn't have to chase you, girl. All I'd have to do is go straight to Seven Dials, wouldn't I? Perhaps I'd catch you in a house with a black door?"
Miss Hawkins gasped, drawing her hand against her chest. "How did you—"
"Mr. Murphy is someone I keep my eye upon," Agatha said, prowling around her. She poked Miss Hawkins in the ribs. "He's obviously not feeding his little crows enough, is he? Help yourself to the lemon tarts before Adrian demolishes them." With that, Agatha strode to the tea service and began pouring.
Miss Hawkins gaped after her. As if noticing his interest in this, she shut her mouth and then crept closer. "How did you know about... Murphy?"
Agatha sat and stirred her tea. "Murphy? Or the Hex?"
Hex?Bishop sat up straighter. "You're part of theHexSociety?"
"Witches, mischief-makers, and dabblers," Agatha pronounced, sipping her tea. "If you want to find something of a magical nature that's gone missing in the East End, then you hie straight for the Burrow before it can be sold. Mr. Murphy runs a fine trade in fleeced goods and he wields an entire household of little crows who scurry about and do his work for him. He prefers not to dip his fingers in the Order's pools, however, which makes it interesting to consider that he might have had something to do with the Chalice's theft. He's not usually so stupid. Or bold."
"You're not supposed to know about us," Miss Hawkins blurted, sitting hesitantly on the sofa beside him. "If you know about us.... The Order frequently puts Hex witches to death when they can find them—"
"And boils their babies alive," Agatha added with a faintly raised brow. "Don't forget we like to burn their houses and salt the ground."
A mulish expression crossed Miss Hawkins's face. "I'veseensorcerers burn a Hex house to the ground and salt the earth."
"But did you ever wonder what they were doing inside that house, hmm?" Agatha leaned closer. "Did you ever wonder whether the groundneededto be salted?"
"Salt purifies," Bishop murmured when he saw her perplexed expression. "If there was something bad raised inside...."
"Precisely." Agatha sniffed, and sipped her tea. "We don't want that sort of rot popping out of the Shadow Dimensions willy-nilly."
"Demons and hell spawn," he added, as Miss Hawkins might know nothing of the Shadow Dimensions. "Imps, sometimes. Depends on how strong the sorcerer was who raised them, or whether they sacrificed something."
He'd never seen Miss Hawkins so disconcerted. "This is not right," she finally said, eyeing the platter of lemon tarts. "We're supposed to be a secret."
Marie, ever the nurturer, poured Miss Hawkins a cup of tea and patted her gently on the shoulder in sympathy as she handed it over. Agatha might be the blunt cosh a thief used, but Marie was the velvet glove. Verity couldn't take her eyes off the tarts now, and Marie noticed, handing her a small plate.
"There's very little that I'm unaware of when it comes to occult forces, though I'll concede that few within the Order have the extent of my knowledge, or Adrian's. Perhaps only a half dozen people," Agatha admitted, tipping her head toward him. "The Hex, however, are constantly monitored. If they play within the lines then we pretend we haven't noticed them. Sometimes a young misguided sorcerer needs a place to go when he's cast out of the Order, and they're considerably good at picking up minor Talent off the streets and keeping it from burning half of London to the ground. They know our rules and so they teach their members to control themselves, at least minimally, and keep their heads down. Nobody wants some young fool ripping the roof off a house because he can't control his temper. It's in all of our best interests to keep magic and sorcery out of the papers, and away from those who would use word of it to further their cause in parliament. The Order is busy. We don't have time to police the entirety of London, so we allow them to continue unmolested."
"I just... I cannot believe, all this time...." Verity sprayed crumbs as she shoveled lemon tart in her mouth.
When was the last time she'd eaten? Bishop frowned.
"Shocking, isn't it?" Agatha's smile looked predatory. "Now drink your tea up so that I can read your future in the tea leaves. There's more than one way to slip a compulsion, and I'm very interested in discovering who's been skirting around certain laws."
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Chapter 3
'Not everyone sideswith the Order of the Dawn Star. It might be the most legitimate group of practitioners in the Empire, but there are those who chafe against its rules, or who were cast out in exile... And then, of course, there are those occult beings who were never truly quite human in the first place...'
- 'Thoughts on Occult London', by Sir Geoffrey Mellors
"THAT WOMAN IS terrifying," Verity grumbled as Bishop helped her down from the carriage. She could still see those dark eyes glaring right through to her soul, the claws of Lady Eberhardt's magic trying to pierce her compulsion... and failing. All it had left Verity with was a slightly throbbing headache, and the impression from Lady Eberhardt's murmured, "Hmm," that she was going to be hounded until this mystery could be solved.
If only you knew who'd placed the compulsion upon you and ordered this theft. Life would be so much easier, wouldn't it?
For she could be leading them into a trap, right now. Bishop wanted to retrace her steps on the day she'd been given the commission. It would be easier if she remembered what those steps were. Verity had argued against it, determined to see if Mercy and the rest of the Crows were all right.
"I actually think she liked you," Bishop told her, scanning the area. One would have to get up early in the morning to get a jump on the shadowy assassin.
"What gave you that impression?"
"The fact she offered you her lemon tarts. Trust me," Bishop threw over his shoulder as he stepped out of the gutter onto the footpath. "Agatha's very fond of lemon tarts, and she doesn't share them with just anyone. Besides, she wouldn't have called you 'girl.' It would have been something far more disparaging, believe me."
