“Well, what do I do with them? I can’t keep them at the house anymore. I’m getting odd phone calls.”
He was silent for a moment. “What kind of odd phone calls?”
She licked her lip and lowered her voice. “The threatening kind.”
“Have you spoken to the police?”
“No, the calls only started this morning after the newspaper article, and the caller says if I go public he’ll burn Callaway House to the ground, then he hangs up.”
“Don’t go home alone. To your place, or Callaway House.”
Her blood chilled; where was she supposed to go? “I think it’s just to scare me, not hurt me.” She tried to sound more confident than she felt. “I need to get rid of the diaries now, don’t I?”
Another weighted pause. She didn’t like those.
“Should I give the diaries to the historical society?” Maybe she should just burn them, but the idea of destroying something Gran had put so much time into made her sick.
“Can you live with your family’s past on display?”
“Gran never hid anything.” Except the diaries and the names of everyone who’d ever visited.
“And your mother?”
Lydia thought for a moment. Maybe the newer, more personal diaries she could keep. After all, the historical society would only be interested in the mistress years. While Helen’s first name was mentioned, that was all there was and there were plenty of Helens; would anyone really try to track her down, especially after she’d changed her name and effectively vanished?
She sighed. This was such a mess. “What else am I supposed to do? I won’t burn them. I can’t sell them and if I keep them someone will try to steal them.” And she’d forever be waiting for the worst, for someone to take a match to the house. No, it was better they were public. There was nothing to hide in them. Her mother’s new name wasn’t mentioned. And once people realized there was no scandal and no names the heat would go away. Next week someone else would fill the tabloids.
“Have you spoken to the lawyer?”
“Yes. He suggested locking them up at a bank. But that doesn’t help; then those who want them will still think there’s something in them. And there’s not.”
“Nothing at all?”
“Nothing.” She hated admitting it, but selling them would be a really public way of showing everyone that there was nothing to see, just the daily trivia of sixty-plus years.
He was quiet again. “I can’t tell you what to do, but if you sell them I think you’ll regret it.”
“This from the man who buys and sells things for a living.”
He laughed, but there was no joy in it. “Some things shouldn’t be sold.”
What have you done?
But she couldn’t ask over the phone. She wanted him to look her in the eye as he told her. Did she really want to know? She bit her lip and deliberated. She could let him walk away now. They’d both had fun, but it didn’t have to continue. Except he wasn’t like any other man she’d ever known and she didn’t want to throw it away just because he was part fairy. That she even thought that was possible showed how much knowing him had changed her.
She lowered her voice. “Are you coming around tonight?”
“If you’re inviting me.”
“I am.”
“Be careful, and ring the police to let them know about the threats, just in case.”
Just in case.
“I will.” You be careful too. She hung up. The only way she could make this end would be to make her own statement about why she wouldn’t sell the diaries and that there was nothing in them. There’d be people who didn’t believe her, but that was their problem. Before she did that, she’d call the historical society and arrange for them to collect the diaries for vetting and display. She doubted they’d want the risk of being burned down because some old well-to-do family got an unwanted mention.
Caspian leaned back in his chair and stared at the phone. Lydia had invited him over. On any other day that would’ve made him happy. Today it filled him with a low-level dread. He was going to have to tell her the truth and ask her for the Counter-Window. He’d thought about asking about the mirror over the phone, but Bramwel was listening and no doubt the imp would be too. He couldn’t trust anyone with the knowledge that he might know where the Window was. Could he trust Lydia?
Again he pulled himself up for thinking like a fairy. Lydia knew what he was, she wasn’t trying to out-scheme him. She was human. She was what he wanted and could only have once he’d taken the Window from her. Would she sacrifice the mirror for him? Or maybe the real question was would she want to keep it once she knew what it was and the power it had? Probably not.
But he knew he’d do what he had to, to keep Shea from getting it. The only way to do that was to give it to his father. Maybe. He thought over the wording of the deals he’d made and what his father had asked. From where he was sitting the most important thing was getting his soul and stopping Shea; how that all played out wasn’t specified.
He could make all the plans he wanted, but he actually needed the Window first. Which meant he had to be sure Lydia had it. He needed to see it. Until then he needed to make sure she was safe from the fairies she couldn’t see.
“Bramwel, where’s Dylis?” Caspian called out.
“Around,” the fairy said as he stuck his head out the back. “Why?”
“I need her to go to Callaway House.” Someone needed to keep an eye on the house and Lydia. Since Dylis had been watching Lydia while he was at Court maybe she could watch over her and the house for a little longer.
Bramwel looked at him like he was pond scum. “She doesn’t work for you; she works for your father.”
And Bramwel was only here until his part of the deal was done. As soon as Felan was crowned the fairies would be out of his life for good. Just like he wanted. Yet now he wasn’t so sure. He didn’t know what it was like to live without having a fairy watch over him.
“Can you go?” Caspian smiled and hoped that Bramwel wouldn’t follow the terms of his deal to the word.
Bramwel raised one eyebrow. “I’m here to look after your place of employment, that is all.”
Damn it. “You brought me clothes.” For which he was very grateful; he’d never fully appreciated the luxury of having clean clothing every day before.
“No, Dylis did it out of an affection I don’t understand. You’re an adult, not a child.”
But Dylis had known him since he was a baby. Not having her around would be odd—as well as peaceful. His house would be almost his own. “Can I talk to her?”
He’d expected her to be here, or somewhere close by, if not for him then to at least see Bramwel.
“She’s at Court at the Prince’s command.” The longing in Bramwel’s voice left no doubt that’s where he’d rather be, or maybe he didn’t care as long as he was with Dylis after so long apart. He bit down on the curiosity about where Bramwel had been for three hundred years. It probably wasn’t pleasant.
Caspian tried a different tack. “I thought you two would be together.”
The fairy shook his head and looked at the floor, obviously wishing that they were together. “There is still work to be done.”
So Dylis was still helping Felan, no doubt securing ties and cementing a place on his Council for both her and Bramwel. She was no fool. He was on his own. The imp had skived off to do whatever imps do—probably make trouble, but hopefully to follow Shea around. Caspian made himself relax. If Shea was going to move against Lydia, the imp would tell him. Caspian had seen the glint in the imp’s pale eyes at the thought of returning to Court. And besides, Shea didn’t know where the Window or Counter-Window was.