Much Ado About Magic (Enchanted, Inc. #5)

Much Ado About Magic (Enchanted, Inc. #5) Page 67

“Yes, it is true,” Merlin said with a little less booming reverberation. “I was brought back a year ago to help face a great threat to the magical world.”

“What threat is that?” another person asked.

“You would have to ask Mr. Ramsay, as it was he who saw a threat and made the decision that it was time to awaken me.”

That brought a little more muttering from the crowd, and I was tempted to slip among them to act as an audience plant and ask pertinent questions. Just when it looked like they might be reasonable, about half the crowd suddenly froze and then surged forward, practically trampling those who weren’t moving with them. I suspected that those amulets had kicked in again, but not everyone in the group was affected. Some had apparently joined the crowd because they honestly believed in the cause, or at least because they wanted to see what was going on.

The unaffected people tried to push back, and a few fights broke out in the mob. Merlin raised his staff over his head and shouted some words, then calm descended. “You may have heard that I am from an ancient era that has no relevance in our time,” he said, “but peace is timeless. Sadly, so is strife. But I bring peace while there are others who create only strife—or incite others to strife.”

That set off the amulet zombies again as they surged toward Merlin. A couple in the front row looked like they were primed for attack, but before they reached him, Merlin aimed his staff at them and they slumped to the ground as if they’d fainted. The people who weren’t in lockstep with the others got out of the way, and even the ones under the influence hesitated.

“I will not harm you,” Merlin said, “but I will not allow you to harm me or my people. You should also know that those charms you carry protect you only from specific spells, and none of those spells are in my arsenal. I fight with different weapons.”

A few more people dropped out of the mob, but the rest pressed onward. Merlin raised his staff again and shouted more magic words, and then the mob was pressed against an invisible barrier. Merlin watched them for a moment, then turned around to face us. “That should give them something to think about,” he said as he came into the building. “And now I need to go impress some customers. Perhaps they will think twice about withdrawing their business after a friendly discussion.”

“Have we lost that many?” I asked.

“There have been a number this morning, and I would imagine several more since Ramsay’s announcement. So it would be good if you could find anything you can about Ramsay as soon as possible.”

I hadn’t even made it to my office, but I turned to head out again. Sam flew escort, magically shielding me from the ongoing demonstration.

When I got to Owen’s place, a small mob of protesters had formed on the sidewalk. They were chanting about how he should stop using evil magic, and I doubted they’d let me pass. Before they noticed me, I ducked back around the corner and went to the tavern where they’d held my birthday party, bought a meal to go, a souvenir ball cap, and a T-shirt, then put on the T-shirt, pulled the hat down over my eyes, and acted like I was delivering food. Wearing something that looked like a uniform and doing a menial task was even better than magic for making a person invisible, so the crowd didn’t pay any attention to me.

I let myself into the stairwell, then knocked on Owen’s door before I unlocked it. “Lunch delivery!” I called out as I came inside.

The living room was even more of a mess than normal. Every book Owen owned was out, and a snowfall of paper lay on top of the books, full of scribbled notes that actually looked scribbled, for a change. Owen was equally untidy, still wearing the white shirt he’d been wearing the day before, but now with the tail untucked. He hadn’t shaved, and he was wearing his glasses. His eyes were bloodshot and had dark circles under them. I got the impression he hadn’t slept and that he was running on a wave of manic energy.

He looked up as I entered and said, “I think I’ve figured out who’s been behind Spellworks.”

“Ivor Ramsay.”

His enthusiasm deflated a little. “Oh, you knew? Of course you knew. You’ve been telling me all along. I should have listened to you. But is it anything more than a suspicion?”

“He announced this morning that he was severing his association with MSI to join Spellworks as their new chairman and to usher in a new magical era, or something like that.”

“Wow. Yeah, I guess that’s proof. But do you know why he did it?”

“That’s the part that has us stumped,” I admitted as I set the bag of food on the coffee table, pulled off the ball cap, and took a seat on the sofa. “Do you know?”