Dangerous Thoughts

Chapter 28

Charles took careful steps, guiding Cecilia down the bumpy cobblestone streets.

It was their first outing since the showdown at the waterfront. Cecilia's stomach wound was still healing, and she couldn't walk, but Andrew had borrowed a wicker wheeled chair from the Monroe estate and had brought it over so she could come along for the trip. Charles, meanwhile, pushed her, with hands that weren't entirely healed, but were doing much better. James had forced him to wear a pair of thick leather gloves, but otherwise his brother had finally let him go out in the world on his own.

"Are you doing all right?" Charles asked as he maneuvered over a particularly bumpy patch of road.

Cecilia winced in pain, but nodded her head. "I'm okay. Don't slow down for me. We need to keep this appointment."

Right, Charles thought, although he wished it was any appointment besides this.

As they wandered down the streets, Charles was only mildly surprised to hear his name get called from the distance, and then saw Mister Davis hobbling towards him. With Cecilia in her chair, there was no way for Charles to make a hasty exit, so he resigned himself to pausing, waiting for Mister Davis to catch up.

"Mister Davis," he greeted.

"Mister Abbot," he said in return before tilting his head down to look at Cecilia. "Miss Monroe."

If Charles had expected Cecilia to blush in embarrassment at being caught in such a compromising position, he was dead wrong. His fiancée tilted her head up and looked at Mister Davis without so much as a flush to her skin. "Mister Davis."

"I've heard about everything," the older gentleman said, looking mildly uncomfortable. "Or rather, bits and pieces of things, since not everything has been published in the press and..." He trailed off. "I'm sorry to you both."

"Thank you," Charles said, rather brusquely. "Now we should be off."

"One last thing!" Mister Davis called out before Charles could maneuver the wheelchair away. "About the flying memory!"

Charles winced. Here we go again. "Mister Davis, I don't think—"

"I don't want it anymore," Mister Davis interrupted. "After finding out how... how that man could fly..." He shook his head. "I think I'm happy enough here on the ground."

Charles couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief. "That's good to hear, Mister Davis."

"Of course," the old man continued, "whenever you have a moment, I'd love to look through your current collection. Might want to purchase one of the ones you already have!"

"I'd be happy to set up a time with you," Charles said. "I've been trying to host the dealings in the comfort of my own home, as..." He held up his gloved hands, where bits of bandages poked out from his wrists.

"Of course," Mister Davis said. And, miraculously, seemed to get the hint that he should leave. "Be well, you two!" And like that, he was gone.

Charles continued pushing Cecilia until they reached their destination: the local jail. They were greeted by an officer who verified their identities, and then led them both to their destination: the cell holding Cecilia's father, Thomas Monroe.

The jail had clearly made arrangements to ensure a variety of mages could be kept within its walls. The room Thomas Monroe was in was entirely made of glass: glass walls, glass ceilings, glass floor. Not a speck of dirt to be seen, nor a beam of wood that could possibly be wielded against anymore.

He was sitting on a glass chair, reading a book—thankfully, this one appeared to be more benign than the one Juliette had set aflame—but looked up when he heard Charles and Cecilia approaching. Suddenly, he placed the book on the ground, stood up, and walked over to the glass.