"I can't let that piece of rubbish be the last word on magic." He sipped and set the glass down on the newspaper. "No magician can." He lifted his brow at me.
I glanced down at my lap but felt everyone's glare bore into me, Matt's being the hardest. "I agree with Oscar," I said.
Matt shot to his feet and stalked to the sideboard. He poured himself a large brandy and drank half in a single gulp. "We agreed it was best to leave the matter alone, India."
"No, we did not. Oscar's right. We can't let Force's vile piece be the last word. He calls magicians all manner of horrible things, and people will believe it. We have to print a rebuttal and show magicians in a favorable light."
He turned his back to me and leaned a fist on the sideboard. If we'd been alone, I would have touched his shoulder and tried to reason gently with him, but I couldn't do it in front of the others.
I appealed to Oscar. "Be sure to mention that all the magicians of your acquaintance regularly attend church, have families, and simply wish to live peaceful lives as the artless do. Don't use the word artless though. It implies a lack in character. Use mild, conciliatory words, nothing too clever."
Oscar's face lifted with his smile. "I do know how to write persuasive pieces, India."
"Yes, of course. I am sorry, but this is an important article and it needs to be exactly right."
"Be sure and say that magic don't do anyone any good," Cyclops chimed in. "Remind folk that it don't last."
"Cyclops!" Willie spat. "Whose side are you on?"
"I ain't on anyone's side, but he's going to write that article no matter what. Seems this way we get some say in what he puts in it. Being all cut up about it will get us nowhere."
We all looked at Matt's powerful back, slightly hunched as he towered over the sideboard. He slowly turned to face us.
"Don't mention India's name," he said, his voice as dark as his eyes.
Oscar looked to me. "I'd like to. Your grandfather has already been mentioned so—"
"No," Matt snapped.
Oscar didn't take his gaze off me. If Matt's raging ruffled him, he didn't show it.
"Don't mention me," I said. "Only those who know me well will know my grandfather's name. Acquaintances do not and hopefully haven't made the connection."
"Say you agree, Barratt," Matt said.
"If it's what India wants, then I agree."
"Maybe write how Chronos was forced by Dr. Millroy to experiment on Wilson Sweet," Willie added.
"I can't say that since it's not true and is unfair to the memory of Millroy. But I will write how both magicians involved in that sorry event regretted their actions and never tried it again."
My swallow sounded loud in the silence. We all averted our gazes. Thankfully Oscar didn't seem to notice. Matt's past and his life-giving watch were the only thing about magic that I'd kept from him, and I wanted to keep it that way.
"I'll note that one is dead and the other thought to be overseas," Oscar went on. "Does that suffice?"
"Yes," I said quickly. "I think so."
"As long as India isn't named," Matt said again.
"Or any other magicians," I added.
"Except myself." Oscar smiled over the rim of his glass as he sipped. "Don't look so shocked, India. It's time I put myself forward as a magician. It's the best way for these articles to be taken seriously, otherwise questions about their authenticity will continue to arise."
"But you'll be inviting all manner of judgment on yourself," I said. "Are you ready for that?"
"Yes."
"Are your family?" He had a brother who ran the family ink production business. Like Oscar, he was an ink magician.
"Let me worry about my family. Besides, a reminder that magic is fleeting should dampen the outrage of my brother's business rivals. I'll use the ink trade as an example of what magic can and cannot do. Once I describe the pretty effects I can create with ink yet the utter uselessness of the magic, no one will continue to feel threatened. My brother will be furious at first, but he'll calm down when he sees that nothing will change."
"You think nothing will change?" Matt went to take another drink but found his glass empty. If he tried to fill it again, I might be compelled to take the glass off him. But he did not. "You're a fool if you believe that, Barratt. A damned fool."
Oscar finished his drink and bade us goodnight. I couldn't blame him for making a hasty retreat in the face of Matt's hostility. Perhaps I should have retreated too, but I remained, along with the others, in the drawing room. I had one final point to make before retiring to bed.
"Another favorable article from Oscar could be the very thing we need," I told Matt after Oscar left. "It could flush out Phineas Millroy."
Matt leaned back in the armchair and stretched out his legs. He closed his eyes and expelled a long breath. "What's done is done. The article will be written. Let's leave all discussion about it alone now." He opened weary eyes and looked at me. "I don't like arguing with you."
I returned his soft smile. "I don't like arguing with you either."
"But she's right," Willie said. "If the Millroy bastard suspects he's a magician, he could contact Barratt hoping to learn more about himself." She pressed her hand to heart. "I want to state how sorry I am, India. I didn't think about that before. It's a good idea. You're right to get him to publish another article, and I was wrong."
"You should get that in writing, India," Duke said.
"Then frame it," Cyclops added.
Willie threw a cushion at Cyclops but he caught it and tossed it back. "I'm going to bed," she said, setting the cushion on the sofa again. "Goodnight."
"You not heading out tonight?" Duke asked, following her.
"Nope."
"Why not?"
"Because I don't want to."
"Something happened between you and your lover, didn't it?"
She didn't respond or slow down as she made for the door. Duke caught her arm and she rounded on him. Her eyes flashed. "What do you want, Duke?"
"I want you to know you can talk to me," he said quietly. "We've been through a lot together, and I'll always be around if you need a shoulder to cry on. No judgment, no giving advice if you don't want it, just to talk."
Her features softened and, for a moment, I thought her face would crumple and she'd cry. But she rallied and even managed a distorted smile for him. "Thanks, Duke. Appreciate it. But I don't want to talk. I just want…" She shrugged. "I don't even know what I want."
They left together, and Cyclops filed out after them with a speaking glance at Matt. I was suddenly alone with him, precisely where I did not want to be. I picked up my skirts and hurried toward the door.
"I want you to know that I don't entirely blame Barratt," Matt said from his chair. He did not try to stop me leaving or ask me to stay, but I stayed anyway—at a safe distance and in sight of Bristow, who hovered outside the drawing room.
"That's not how it seemed," I said.
"Barratt had a hand in inflaming the situation, but I can see his intentions are good."
"You should tell him that, not me."
"I care more about your forgiveness than his."