Oscar sat back heavily, which must have jolted his shoulder, yet he didn't so much as wince. He stared at me. Then slowly, slowly, his lips curved into a smile. "You want me to write an article exposing magicians?"

"I want to discuss the implications of it, that's all."

"With a view to publishing it."

"Perhaps."

He removed a notepad and pencil from his top drawer then flipped to a blank page. He rested his sling-bound forearm on the little book and drew a line down the center of the page, dividing it into two columns. He labeled one PRO and the other CON.

"Is this why you came without Mr. Glass?" he asked as he finished writing. "Because his cautious nature only sees the negatives?"

"He's not cautious regarding most things," I said. "Indeed, he can be rather reckless. But on the topic of magic, he doesn't think the world needs to know about us. He thinks such knowledge will only lead to danger for magicians. While I do agree, to an extent, I also have more faith in my fellow man. I don't think it would cause the chaos he predicts, although there will be an unsettled phase until the artless and magicians can learn to live and work together. Put that down in the CON column."

He wrote unrest beneath CON and enlightenment in the PRO column. I thought that over-selling my point. "Like you, I have faith that there are more good people than bad in the world, India. Mr. Glass must have had some misfortune with his friends to give him such a cynical view."

"It's not his friends." I regretted saying it as soon as it left my mouth. He would guess that it was Matt's family who'd betrayed him. Matt wouldn't want him to know. "Note down that artless businesses will suffer in the CON column."

He did and countered it with better products and services in the PRO list and added freedom for magicians and no more fear.

I nodded at that. Freedom to live in the open meant a doctor magician would be easy to find. Writing articles about magic could be the fastest way to flush out a medical magician. Perhaps Dr. Millroy's illegitimate son would even reveal himself.

It could also send the desperate and ill to his door hoping he could cure them. Of course he could only extend their life briefly, if at all—without me or Chronos, that is. "False hope," I said quietly.

Oscar looked up, pencil poised. "What do you mean?"

"Magic is temporary. Any object infused with it will not keep its magical quality for long. False hope could lead to anger from those ignorant of the limitations."

"Perhaps there are spells to extend magic's usage. Drawing out magicians may also draw out some of the older spells thought lost." He looked very pleased with himself at the suggestion.

I held my breath, weighing up my own list of pros and cons for telling him about Chronos and the extending spell. Oscar's enthusiasm to share magic with the world might override any caution. On the other hand, he'd agreed not to write openly about magic. I could trust him to keep this a secret. I wanted to trust him.

I glanced over my shoulder at the door again. Not quite satisfied that we couldn't be overheard, I got up and closed it. Oscar sat very still, his eyes huge as he waited for me to tell him more. I had certainly piqued his curiosity.

"What I'm about to tell you cannot be mentioned to anyone else," I began. "You cannot write about it or even allude to it with veiled references. Do you understand, Oscar?"

He nodded. "What is it, India? What have you discovered?"

"There is a spell to extend the life of another magician's magic."

His brows almost disappeared into his hairline. "A time magician," he said on a breath. "You can do it, can't you?" He slapped the desktop and beamed at me. "I have wondered. Ever since meeting you, the thought entered my head, but I've not heard of magic being combined with another's before and dismissed it. Tell me, how did you discover it was even possible?"

"First of all, promise you won't tell a soul about this."

"I promise."

I breathed out a pent-up breath. "I found someone to advise me on my magic."

"Another timepiece magician? Who is it?"

"He'd rather no one knows about him. He's very secretive."

"Sounds intriguing." The light in his eyes shone brighter and he sat forward. Oscar would have enjoyed being a detective as much as Brockwell.

"He taught me a spell that makes a watch or clock run on time," I said. "I wasn't able to fix all beforehand, only most."

He waved this off with a flap of his hand. "An admirable spell, and I suppose its representative of what watch and clockmakers want to achieve most in their craft. Good for you. I'm pleased you found someone to help you. But the extension spell?"

"His forebears taught it to him, and he spent years experimenting with other magicians, combining his magic with theirs using the spell. He has had some success."

"What types of other magic?"

"Builders, dressmakers, ironworkers. All of the magic has held for longer than it usually would."

"A doctor?" he asked without missing a beat. He was fast. Almost too fast for me to match him. It was not a connection most would immediately make.

"He's searching for a medical magician." It was more a lie by omission than an outright lie. My conscience was quite comfortable with it.

He studied the lists in his notebook then drew a line beneath them. "A pity he hasn't been able to find one. Imagine the possibilities. The lives that could be saved, the—"

"No. Stop." I took his notebook and closed it. He blinked at me, surprised by my response.

"What is the matter, India?" He reminded me of Chronos with his enthusiasm and blinkered outlook. Like Chronos, he did not seem to see the dangers.

"There are consequences to combining the two spells. Extending the life of someone who ought to have died is wrong; it's playing God. It could create all manner of havoc, some of which we could not even anticipate in a discussion such as this."

"What if the person should not have died? What if the victim of a murderous madman lies dying but there is enough time to save them using magic?"

It was so close to Matt's own situation to be chilling. I rubbed my arms but it did nothing to warm me. "You cannot use the spell on some people and not others," I said, changing the subject. "Nobody has the right to make that decision."

"So you would deny a mother life-saving magic to prolong her dying child's life? Even if she begged you?"

"Don't, Oscar."

"Very well, here's another thought. You clearly know the extending spell, as does your mentor. You don't know where to find a doctor magician now, but what if you do locate one? Should you and your mentor be the only ones to take advantage of the spell? Isn't that unfair?"

"We won't take advantage of it. We know the ethics." It was an outright lie, and he detected it.

"You may, but does he? Besides, can you honestly say you would not employ the spell if someone you loved lay dying and you knew of a way to save him or her?" He threw down his pencil and it rolled across the desk, hitting the inkstand.

"You cannot tell anyone, Oscar. You can't write about this."

"Then why are you here, India?" His raised voice filled the small office. "Why tell me at all if you want to keep it quiet?"

I swallowed hard. I would not let him turn me into the villain. Enthusiasm was one thing, but outrage was another. "Because I wanted to discuss the viability of a general article to bring us into the open." And because I hadn't expected him to make the leap to medical magic so quickly. "I know so few magicians, and you're the only one I wanted to share this with. I thought I could trust you, Oscar. I thought your common sense would override your desire to expose magic. I was wrong." I gathered up my reticule and with my heart beating a loud yet stoic rhythm, I stood. "Good day. I'll see myself out."

"Wait." He came around the side of the desk and caught my elbow.

I kept my face averted so he couldn't see the tears welling there. I felt utterly foolish. It had been stupid of me to come here and trust a journalist. Matt would not have made such a miss-step.

"Wait, please, India." The plea in his voice was soft and gave me hope. "I need to apologize. You are right. Extension magic needs to be kept quiet. We know so little about it, and it does have potential to create problems. I tend to get excited about the possibilities and dismiss the negatives. Do you forgive me?

I swept my gaze up to his. He looked sincere, but I couldn't trust my instincts on this score. "Only if you promise not to tell anyone about combining time magic with other magic. That includes writing about it, or alluding to it too."

"I already promised."

"Promise again."

His thumb stroked my arm before letting go. "I promise, India. For you."

Me?

"Shall we try combining my ink magic with yours to extend its use? Do I require a different spell to make it work?"

"I do but you don't."

"How many spells did your mentor know?"

"Only two. He believes all magicians used to know more but they've been forgotten over the years when magicians were forced into hiding."

He slid a piece of paper toward him and reached for the inkstand.

I stayed his hand. "Not today."

He looked disappointed. "Very well. You know where to find me if you change it your mind."

He walked with me through the outer office where the editor nodded a greeting. In the front reception room, Oscar touched the door handle but did not open the door. "Have you put any more thought into what show you'd like me to take you to?" he asked.

So he hadn't forgotten. "I…I think we ought to wait until your shoulder is better."

He hesitated then smiled. "Then I hope my recovery is swift. Good day, India."

* * *

Matt arrived back at Park Street shortly after me. He looked exhausted again, all benefits from using the watch after my spell having vanished. My heart sank to see it. He threw himself into a chair in the library and scrubbed a hand across his forehead. His deep sigh resonated around the book-lined walls. He must feel as unwell as he looked.

I poured him a cup of tea and cleared my throat. Matt looked up, smiled weakly, and accepted the cup.

"You're no better, are you?" I almost didn't want to hear his answer, although I suspected what it would be before he gave it. His ill-health was written into every tired groove on his face.

"The magic lasted longer this time," he said with more cheerfulness in his voice than I expected. "You did well, India."

"Not well enough." I sighed. "I hoped there'd be significant improvement."

"I didn't rest after using it this time. I told you I would but I wanted to see how long I could stay focused without resting. So there you go. Your magic has helped."

"That is something," I added, trying to match his cheerfulness. If he could do it for my sake, I could do it for his.

"Is my aunt home?" he asked.

"Bristow said she went out with Lady Rycroft."

"Aunt Beatrice? Where?" His confusion was understandable. The sisters-in-law could not abide one another.

"I believe they went shopping."

"I hope they don't kill each another in the process."

"I should have gone with her," I said, picking up my teacup. "I am supposed to be her companion."

"She knew you were going out to see Barratt. If she had other plans and wanted you there, she would have told you so."

Still, I'd become lax in my duties lately. I must change that. But for now, I had work with Matt to accomplish. "I see Abercrombie didn't set the police, vigilantes or dogs on you."

"You haven't seen the teeth marks." He flashed me a grin and I relaxed. No matter how tired, he could almost always manage a smile for me. "I'll discuss what Abercrombie said when the others arrive. I've sent Bristow to fetch them, and Cyclops is taking the carriage to the coach house." He concentrated on sipping his tea slowly, eyeing me over the rim of the cup. "What about you? How is Barratt?"

"Oscar's not too badly injured."

His cup hit the saucer with a china-chipping clink. "Oscar?"

My face heated so I kept it lowered. "I mean Mr. Barratt." I cleared my throat. "The bullet merely grazed him. He's back at work already and was interested in the facts surrounding Dr. Hale's murder case. Brockwell didn't divulge much."

"Nor should he. Barratt can't be trusted to keep the particulars out of his newspaper."

"Surely he has a right to know how events played out. He was as much a victim as you or me."

"First of all, I am not a victim." His manner had switched from friendly to growling in an instant. "Second of all, he doesn't have a right to know anything. Brockwell clearly didn't trust him. Knowing the irresponsible articles Barratt has written on magic in the past, I can only agree with his assessment."

If he knew why I'd really gone to see Oscar, he'd be even angrier. I kept my face averted. "Then why were you amenable to me visiting him? You even said he was a good man. Why have you changed your mind so quickly?"

He paused for so long that I was compelled to look at him. "I…I don't know." He shook his head and passed a hand over his face. "You're right, India. Perhaps I'm not being fair on him. He is probably a trustworthy fellow, just over-eager about magic. I do see why you like him. You two have a lot in common."

I set my teacup and saucer down. "You're doing it again. Being inconsistent. And what do you mean we have a lot in common? Aside from magic, I don't see anything."

He tapped his finger on the side of the teacup then suddenly pointed at me. He clicked his fingers. "His family is in a craft trade too, like yours. There's a similarity."

"Thank you for pointing out my inferior roots."

He frowned. "I said they're similar, not inferior."

"Not to his, to yours." I stood and stalked to the door, not entirely sure where I would go. I just knew I couldn't be near Matt if he was going to push me in Oscar's direction.

Unfortunately, Matt wouldn't allow me to leave. He somehow managed to beat me to the door. His impressive frame blocked my exit, the severe frown emphasizing the lines of exhaustion. "That's not what I meant," he said.

"I don't know anything anymore, Matt!"

He placed his hands behind his back. "You're right. I'm difficult of late. My temper is getting the better of me too often. I'll try harder."

"No, Matt." I closed my eyes, wishing I could take back my outburst. "It's not that. I'm also feeling out of sorts. So much has happened these last few weeks, and I'm trying to gather my scattered wits together. It's like running behind an omnibus that I need to get on, only I can't catch it."

"I'm running alongside you," he murmured.

Heated voices came from the stairs outside the library, but I wasn't finished with Matt. I suddenly wanted him to understand something. "I have no interest in Oscar Barratt in the way you…in any way other than friendship. I do think he can be trusted, but that's a separate point. In regard to my feelings for him, I have no romantic ones."

His gaze searched my face but he did not have time to respond before Willie, not watching where she was going, bumped into his back. She barely paused to apologize before returning to her discussion with Duke and Chronos.

"You take that back, Duke!" she shouted.

Duke held up his hands. "I'm not saying nothing that ain't true."

"You are! Not all us Johnsons are bad seeds. You tell him, Matt."

Matt tore his gaze away from me. "What?" he asked, somewhat absently.

"Duke's been telling Chronos about our family. He's been saying all us Johnsons are bad."

Duke held up a finger. "I said mad, not bad. And I didn't say all. I excluded Matt."

Willie thrust her hands on her hips. "You're calling me mad?"

"You're the maddest."

"Ha!"

Duke indicated her attire. "I ain't ever seen another woman dress like a man."

"That ain't mad," she shot back. "That's just plain good sense. This is a man's world, and if some people mistake me for a male for a minute or two, then good. Makes it even. Ain't that right, India?"

As much as I didn't want to get between them in an argument, I had to agree with her. "I'm not sure that wearing trousers levels the playing field for long, but I do see your point, Willie. Sorry, Duke."

He grunted. "That ain't the only reason you're mad, Willie. There's carrying a revolver around London, for one thing."

"My Colt's saved me a time or two," she said with triumph. "Got any other reasons, Duke, or is that it?"

"That's enough," Matt snapped, striding to the fireplace. "The next person to start bickering will be sleeping in the stables."

Chronos winked at me as he passed. "Better keep your mouth shut, India."

Matt glared at him. I found it a little amusing but bit my lip to stop myself smiling. Matt was in no mood to appreciate the humor.

"Tea?" I said to the newcomers.

"Got anything stronger?" Chronos asked.

Willie made for the sideboard where Matt kept a decanter of brandy and glasses. Duke caught her wrist, halting her. He shook his head and jutted his chin in Matt's direction. Awareness dawned slowly across Willie's face.

"We'll all have tea, India," she declared. "Bristow don't like it when we drink before dinner. He says it ain't the done thing here in London."

"Perhaps not this part of London." But Chronos didn't press the issue and accepted the teacup I passed to him.

Cyclops joined us a few minutes later. "What have I missed?"

"I was about to tell everyone what Abercrombie told me," Matt said, remaining standing while the rest of us sat. "He admitted that his father flushed magicians out of the guild in his time as master. He was proud of it, in fact, and it took no convincing on my part for him to open up."

"More's the pity," Willie muttered. "If anyone deserves to be convinced by you, it's him."

Chronos looked from Matt to Willie and back again. "Him?"

"Matt may seem all gentlemanly and English but he's got the American Wild West running through his veins. Ain't no one can stay silent once he sets his mind to getting information from 'em."

Chronos eyed Matt like he was seeing him in a new light. "My kind of fellow."

"Can I continue now, Willie?" Matt said drily.

She gestured for him to go on.

"Abercrombie called it his father's legacy," Matt went on. "He forced two magicians out of the guild after learning of their secret. The present Abercrombie knew about you, Chronos."

"Abercrombie senior would have passed on as much information as he could to his son before he joined his maker," Chronos said. "Does he know I'm alive and in London?"

"I couldn't gauge whether he did or not."

"Why didn't you ask outright?"

"Because that might alert him to the fact that you are alive, and here, and I know it."

"A good point," Duke said.

Chronos agreed with a grudging nod.

"Abercrombie thinks you inherited your magic from Chronos," Matt said to me. "He seems to think your father was artless, and he did not mention your other grandparents."

"He wouldn't know about them," Chronos said. "My wife's family kept their magic a secret. As to India's maternal grandparents, their magic was in another craft, and they also kept it a secret."

"So Abercrombie doesn't know how strong she is," Duke said. "I wonder what he'd do if he did."

No one had an answer to that, and the room fell into silence until Matt broke it. "I told Abercrombie you want to know more about your grandfather, India. I asked him specifically about the controversy surrounding the last years of Chronos's life. I mentioned the stories you'd heard and wanted verified. He was pleased to tell me all about your experiments in extending magic, Chronos, and the death you caused."

"It wasn't entirely my fault," Chronos said with a pout in his voice.

"Abercrombie recalled the sensation the experiment caused within the Watchmaker's and Surgeon's Guilds. His father and the master of the Surgeon's Guild at the time met and vowed to bring justice for the victim."

"How?" Chronos cried. "They couldn't even know his name!"

"The only reason they didn't get far is because Dr. Millroy died a short time later—as did you, apparently. I couldn't tell from his expression whether he knew your death had been falsified, however."

A cold lump formed in my chest. I set down my teacup to not draw attention to my trembling hands. I found myself agreeing with Abercrombie on this matter. My grandfather may have believed he was doing the right thing, a good thing, but he was still a murderer. He'd ended a man's life before his time. It sickened me.

"India?" Matt asked gently.

I signaled for him to continue. I couldn't look at Chronos, but I felt his gaze drilling into the top of my head as I stared down at my lap.

"I questioned Abercrombie about Dr. Millroy's murder," Matt said. "He was in his twenties then, and his father was at the height of his powers in the guild. He admitted to knowing only what was reported in the newspapers and suggested Millroy's murderer was probably an opportunistic thief looking for valuables."

Chronos made a scoffing noise into his teacup.

"Do you know if any valuables were found on the body?" Cyclops asked.

"The police file said there was only a pencil," Matt said.

"It may have been opportunistic," Chronos said. "But there are unanswered questions. For one thing, why was Dr. Millroy even in that area? His patients were a better sort, not slum dwellers."

"Looking for another subject for an experiment?" I bit off.

"I told you, he was set against another experiment after Wilson died on us."

"Perhaps he changed his mind."

Chronos grunted but looked unconvinced. "Didn't Abercrombie want to know why you were questioning him about Dr. Millroy?" he asked Matt.

"I told him India wanted as broad a picture of her dead grandfather as possible."

Chronos gave another grunt.

"If he suspects you're here, it's not because of me." Matt glanced at the decanter and glasses then refilled his cup with tea. He resumed his stance by the mantelpiece. In the masculine environment of the library, surrounded by leather-bound books and solid furniture, he looked strong and healthy. It clawed at my heart to know he was not.

"I went to the Surgeon's Guild hall after leaving Abercrombie's shop," he went on. "I wanted to know who the master was at the time, so I could question him." His lips curved into a smooth smile. "You've met him, India."

I thought quickly. There were only two doctors I knew of the right age. "Either Dr. Ritter or Wiley."

"Ritter."

"Who?" asked Chronos.

"The principal surgeon at the London Hospital," Matt said. "We met him while investigating Hale's death."

"Do you think it's a coincidence?"

Matt lifted one shoulder. "Hard to say for certain."

"Did you question him?" I asked.

He shook his head. "He wasn't at the hospital, and I didn't want to drive all over London looking for him. I was running out of time."

There was no need to ask why. We all knew he needed to use his watch and rest. Matt no longer liked using it outside of the house for fear that someone would see. Sheriff Payne had already spotted him using it in the coach. Not that the house was always safe either. His cousin Hope had also seen him use it after bursting into the drawing room one day.

"We'll go tomorrow," I said. "This time I'll join you."

"To keep an eye on me?" he asked with a tilt of his lips.

"To protect you from Dr. Ritter." I winked at him. "He struck me as rather fierce."

He laughed softly into his teacup.

Willie rolled her eyes and shook her head but thankfully made no comment. Chronos sported a smile that was far too smug for my liking. What did he have to be smug about?

"Want me to speak to the nurse I met at the hospital last time?" Willie asked. "She was mighty helpful."

"No need," Matt said. "But thanks."

The door suddenly opened and Bristow entered. He looked hot and his tie sat askew. It was the most disheveled I'd ever seen the butler. "I'm sorry to interrupt, sir," he said, smoothing back his hair. "You are required in the drawing room. Miss Glass is here and she's in quite a state."

Matt strode past him before he even finished speaking. The rest of us had to race to catch up. My mind raced too, thinking of all the things that could have happened to Miss Glass. Neither her mind nor her body were particularly strong.

I should have gone with her.