When I was halfway to my seat, I froze.
Isadora Gifford stood by the entrance, her eyes fixed on me.
Did she have any way of knowing what I just did?
But then, a moment later, she was gone, the cafe door closing behind her.
“Wait!” I rushed out.
There was a crowd outside the cafe now. I went through it and looked around. Two groups of tourists stood at the bottom of the street, near a corner shop. And there she was! Between them. Turning in to an alleyway.
The narrow lane was empty when I got to it. I listened to see whether I could hear her footsteps, but there was too much background noise for me to tune in on anything specific.
Reluctantly, I returned to the cafe. There, on the table, next to my cake and cup of tea, was an envelope with my name on it. Scripted in old style.
Slowly, I took my seat. I looked around me before opening it. There were just two other people, at two separate tables. I turned back, for a moment blinded by the glare of the early-spring sun that shined through the window.
I opened the envelope.
A small business card fell out and then a letter. The business card had Isadora’s contact details, and identified her as a member of the board of a financial institution. The words “Call any time” were handwritten across the top in the same neat cursive style, matching my name on the envelope. I put it aside and turned my attention to the letter.
The paper was thick—quality stationery—and folded both sideways and top to bottom, like letters in Jane Austen movies; the only thing missing was the wax seal. Again, I wondered at Isadora’s age.
There was no symbol of the Guild, when I opened it. I knew them from a book in my father’s library. They resembled the rings: a blue circle—like the diamonds—surrounded by a seven-pointed golden star that was on the band of the rings. There wasn’t one here. The only sign was a strange watermark that decorated the bottom of the page—some insignia I hadn’t seen before.
The letter was handwritten.
Dear Julie,
I hope our talk has given you food for thought, and also left space for further conversation. I want to again stress that my door is always open for you and that I sympathize with your situation. What you had to do comes at a high price, and the last thing you need is the threat of a powerful organization, while you’re still finding your feet.
After thinking over your past with the Guild, I understand your caution about joining us.
Caution? More like complete abhorrence. Either way, she was being kind, again.
It would seem that current circumstances could offer another way for you to assist us. One that will keep you autonomous, and your magic separate from the collective, while still allowing you to be close enough to those who can help—particularly to myself.
Attached is the direct way to contact me. Or, if you are already interested, and would pledge absolute discretion to the details of my offer, you can sign your name below mine to find out more.
Looking forward to your reply,
Isadora Grace Whitworth-Gifford
I put the letter down.
Another way to work with them, autonomously? Was that something I’d consider? If it meant protecting me and Mark, and saving our future family?
What exactly did she have in mind? I could sign the thing and find out. But did I want to? There was no commitment here—only a promise of my discretion.
I thought for a moment.
There was really no harm in finding out more. I did believe her when she said—back in the woods—that she would have acted the same way I had, under those circumstances. That didn’t mean that I could trust her, of course, but I could hear her out.
I had a pen in my bag. I took it and signed the thing, below Isadora’s signature.
The scribble vanished immediately, absorbing into the page.
Nice spell. My sister, Sally, did it with me once—this would send Isadora the message that I’d signed.
But then, something else happened. The letter moved and fluttered, turning over, and then words started to appear on the back, as if they were being written by an invisible pen.
There is a new secret organization of mages, growing in numbers. Avoiding any contact with the Guild. We’ve had reports of experimental magic. You can help us discover information about them: who they are and their aims. You will work directly under me, and I will afterward introduce you to those mages in the Guild who see your situation favorably and are magically powerful enough to help you. Let me know your thoughts.
The paragraph started to fade almost as I was done reading it. And then, the letter itself disintegrated. In a few moments, it was nothing but dust on the table.
I sat back, impressed by both her methods and her offer.
She wanted me to investigate a new secret organization. It could be dangerous. Was the payoff worth it, though? Politically, it made sense: I’d be getting close to the head of the Guild and to mages who could help me and Mark. But what about the risk?
More Julie and Mark here
More Dark Flame here