Beth had never done what she was doing before - follow a complete stranger through the city because he told her to. But the policeman affair and the smooth stick were drawing her like a moth to a light. So she followed.
The tall gentleman walked smoothly and briskly, his hand still resting on the strange stick in his pocket. They slipped through streets and across courtyards, over bridges and round corners, until even Beth, who knew New York like the back of her hand, felt muddled.
It was now nearing eleven o'clock: all New Yorkers were awake and busy - the streets were full and bustling. Beth could see the gentleman losing patience, obviously for not being able to get any faster to their destination, wherever that was. Then there was a roadblock, because somehow a brewers cart and a cab had collided. The gentleman cursed under his breath, and then turned down into a deserted alley. "Hold my arm." He said, holding it out, like they were about to walk into a ballroom.
Beth grimaced.
"I do not wish to have to do the same thing on you that I did to that constable back there." The gentleman said, with just a touch of impatience.
Very, very reluctantly Beth placed her hand on his forearm.
Then everything started spinning, flashes of colour, Beth was being squeezed through a tight tube, she couldn't breathe -
And then it was over. But they were no longer in the dirty alley way.
They were inside. Beth took her hand of the gentleman’s arm. She didn’t know where she was, but her first thought was her realisation of how long it had been since she had been inside a building. Not just a broken down shack or the porch of an abandoned shop. Actually inside.
Then she took in her surroundings. The room belonged to someone wealthy, that was for sure. A mahogany desk stood in the middle of the room, and a roaring fire was on the left wall. The most peculiar thing about this fire, though, was that the flames were bright green. Beth stared.
“Slanders.” Said a voice. “You’ve arrived.”
Beth jumped. Someone was standing at the desk. His back had been facing them, but then he turned around. Beth drew in her breath. It wasn’t that this man looked monstrous or anything like that. It was just the cruelty in his eyes that Beth saw immediately. The rest of his appearance consisted of black hair, shaved at the back and sides, thick black eyebrows and a long black coat.
"Ah." Said the man. He had a quiet, low, and slightly rough edged voice.
"Sir," Said the tall gentleman, inclining his head.
"And who may this be?" The man asked, eyeing Beth with an expression of mild interest.
The tall gentleman coughed lightly. "She's a witch."
Beth stared at him. Was he insulting her? But there was another meaning in the way he said it, she knew it.
The cruel-eyed man raised his eyebrows. "And what would I do with her? She's young. Probably not even out of school."
The tall gentleman, who Beth understood to be Slanders, replied, "She doesn't know her own power yet." Then he turned to her. "Tell him who you are."
Beth hesitated, then raised her nose very slightly to the ceiling. "No, thank you."
Slanders exhaled sharply. Then he placed his hand on the smooth stick, and pulled it out. "Do you want me to have to use this?" He asked threateningly.
"Now, now, Slanders, there's no need to be impolite to our guest." Said the cruel-eyed man. "Please." He indicated a chair in front of the desk.
Very slowly Beth sunk into it, clasping her hands over her lap and looking the cruel-eyed man bravely in the eye. He sat down himself, leant back in his chair, and peered at her with a slightly tilted head.
"My name is Percival Graves." He said.
Beth didn't answer, so he continued, "And you are?"
Beth gave up. She saw no use in hiding the facts any longer. She had no idea why these men wanted her, didn't know how she was going to get out of the situation, and thought that maybe if she just answered their questions they would let her go. "Name's Beth." She said quietly.
"Beth...?"
"Blackbird. At least I think that's my last name." Beth answered shortly.
There was a silence. Then Graves turned to Slanders and said, "You knew this?"
Slanders nodded. "I had a suspicion. She looks exactly like her mother."
"You know my parents?" Beth turned in her chair to stare at Slanders.
"I KNEW your parents." Slanders replied.
Beth felt as if a great weight had fallen into her stomach. She had expected as much, of course. Of course they would be dead. But she had always had a tiny hope that maybe one day she would be reunited with the parents she had never known, that had left her on the doorstep of the orphanage that she had run away from just a year ago. But now that little light of hope had been put out.
"I am sorry, Beth." Graves said, with such sincerity that Beth wondered that maybe this man wasn't so bad after all. "They were a very good witch and wizard."
"Witch and wizard?" Beth snapped. "What are you talking about?" She felt herself growing angry. "And why have you got me here, anyway? What is that stick that man is holding? I - I want to go, now, please." She got up, but Slanders blocked the doorway. Beth felt a tear spring up in her eye, and for once she felt afraid.
Graves got up and led her back into her chair. "I am sorry to keep you here." He said. "But you are a unique witch, Beth. You just don't know it. We need to find out more about you." He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out his own smooth stick. "And to answer your last question - this is a wand." He held it out. Beth, suddenly spellbound, touched it gently.
Graves waved it gently. A blue butterfly flew out the wand. Beth watched in amazement. Then she shook her head. "It's just a magic trick."
"No." Said Graves. "You try."
Breathless, Beth took the wand. Sure enough, it felt right.
"Now wave it."
Beth gently swirled in the air. Blue rays of light shone out.
Graves smiled. "You are a witch, Beth."