“Hmm?” Jackaby looked up. “Oh, they may seem like sweet siblings, but they’re terrible witnesses. Whatever snatched their little brother didn’t seem to faze them in the least. I’ve been unable to get anything useful out of them.”
“Well, goats are known for their stubbornness,” I said. “Anything you’d like me to take down?” I pulled the notepad from my pocket.
“Let’s see. What do we know . . . ?” Jackaby grimaced as he collected his thoughts. “Three victims with bruises on their necks, a pale man with a nasty aura, one stolen tooth, and one un-stolen foot.”
“I’ve got all that already,” I said, flipping through the pages.
“And something else. There’s something familiar here, but I can’t place it. There are just too many variables. For a countryside so seemingly devoid of productive peculiarities, there are a lot of traces of paranormal presences here — fading whispers of something sinister, and yet no solid leads. Everything is just out of reach. I imagine this is how Jenny feels all the time. It’s intolerably frustrating.”
“We’ll make more progress in the daylight, sir, I’m sure. Come on, then. I’ll walk you back to the cabin. If we’re going to brood over fruitless frustrations and complicated casework, we might as well enjoy a sunset along the way. Charlie says they’re quite nice out here in the country.” I sighed. “Still—a dragon, Mr. Jackaby! I’m still having trouble believing it! A real dragon! That’s something!”
“Electromagnetic radiation traveling through the atmosphere along an inconsistent wavelength,” said Jackaby, standing up. “And also magic. There’s a phoenix involved.”
“Come again?”
“The sunset. Of course, it also has a traditionally romantic connotation. You aren’t making any advances, are you, Miss Rook? I have strict parameters about that. Very unprofessional. It was never a problem with Douglas.”
“What? Ugh! No! No, I most certainly am not making advances! For goodness’ sake—not making advances is exactly what I’m doing, in fact.”
“Ah.” Jackaby nodded. We walked in silence for several seconds.
“It’s just that Jenny told me I should . . .”
“I really don’t need to know,” Jackaby said.
“But then Miss Fuller said I shouldn’t . . .”
“Please don’t, Miss Rook.”
“Oh, never mind.” I felt hot and embarrassed, and I wanted to hide. “Forget I said anything.”
“I assure you, I will ardently try.” The black teeth of the tree line had swallowed the sun like a ripe grapefruit, and the seeping mess of red and orange had begun to spread across the sky. It might have been every bit as lovely as Charlie had said, but I was finding it difficult to appreciate.
The crimson-tinted countryside passed by us in silence for a dozen paces. “So often,” Jackaby said, “people think that when we arrive at a crossroads, we can choose only one path, but—as I have often and articulately postulated—people are stupid. We’re not walking the path. We are the path. We are all of the roads and all of the intersections. Of course you can choose both.”
I blinked.
“Also, if I hear any more nonsense about your allowing other people to decide where you’re going in your own life, I will seriously reconsider your employment. You were hired for your mind, Miss Rook. I won’t have an assistant incapable of thinking for herself.”
“Yes, sir,” I said. “Thank you, sir.” The sky reached its richest red, and then it slipped into a deep purple and finally the blackness of night just as we arrived. The stars blinked down on us, and the moon washed the cabin in gentle blues. It had, indeed, been a beautiful sunset.
Chapter Twenty-Three
I was awoken some hours later by the sound of the bedroom door. I gathered together my senses and tried to remember my surroundings. The room smelled woody, and only starlight filtered in through the soft white curtains. Charlie stepped in quietly, padding to the side of the bed. He put a hand gently on my shoulder. “Miss Rook?” he whispered.