Surely if this area was used to store artifacts, both alarms and sprinklers would have been installed. Unless, of course, the person behind the fire had disabled them.
My gaze went to the flames that billowed past a secondary wall illusion and threatened the nearby furniture items. The fire was fierce, but I had no sense of magic being used to enhance it. Whatever fuel fed these flames was natural.
Mo shifted shape and then raised her hands. “Grab the extinguisher, Gwen.”
Magic poured from her fingertips, a force as strong as a wave. I had no idea what she was attempting or even what type of magic it was. It certainly wasn’t personal—it was far more elemental in feel.
I spotted the fire extinguisher near an exit sign and flew across. Once I’d shifted to human form, I tugged the extinguisher free from its holder and then pulled the pin to break the tamper seal.
By the time I’d run back, the false wall was down and the fuel source revealed. The flames raged through the first section of a vast shelving unit filled with ancient-looking books. Mo’s magic flowed either side of this unit, shielding and protecting its sister shelves.
“Aim at the base of the fire and gradually sweep upward.”
Mo’s voice was distant, her expression one of intense concentration. The energy pouring from her fingertips was so fierce it made the small hairs on my arms and neck rise.
I squeezed the extinguisher’s trigger handles together, and foam sprayed out. It didn’t immediately smother the flames, but I swept the nozzle back and forth, covering the base of the unit before working upward. White smoke billowed, catching in my throat and making me cough, but the foam eventually did its job.
When the last flicker of fire was erased, I released the handles and put the extinguisher down. Only the books on the top shelf of this first section of shelving had escaped major damage; the rest were a charred and stinking mess.
Mo lowered her hands, but her magic lingered in the air, tiny wisps of power that hung like fireflies in the darkness. She took a deep, somewhat shuddering breath and then walked past me to inspect the shelf.
“It’s the goddamn history section that’s been hit.”
I grabbed the flashlight, but the yellowish beam just made the damage seem all that much worse.
“Why would someone want to burn history books? It’s not like there aren’t plenty of libraries containing the oral and written history of the witch houses.”
“Yes, but this is the only place that holds, amongst other things, the full birth records of all seven houses, dating back since before the time of the Witch King. And there are books missing.”
My gaze shot to the charred remnants. “How can you tell?”
She motioned toward the top shelf. “Whoever set the fire wasn’t counting on anyone getting here so fast. Books four, six, and eight are gone.”
I pointed the flashlight up. The top shelf contained the birth records of the Aquitaines. My heart began to beat a little faster. “Someone’s looking for Uhtric’s heirs.”
“Well, I don’t think it’s a coincidence that you were attacked on the day of blessing—the one day of the year the sword is vulnerable.”
“Except the sword wasn’t attacked—someone had been trying to draw it. And the demons didn’t hit until after the blessing was completed.”
“Which could have been a matter of mistiming on their part. Demons aren’t the brightest creatures sometimes.”
Could have been, but wasn’t, her tone seemed to imply. “Do you think demons are also responsible for this fire?”
Mo shook her head. “Demons ain’t got the smarts to get past the protections around the tower. Whoever did this was a witch of some standing.”
“A Lancaster?”
“Maybe, although as I said earlier, it wasn’t anyone from around here.”
“Could it have been the man who raised the sword this morning? I know the Aquitaines generally aren’t capable of personal magic, but given the line isn’t pure anymore—”
“There are a few direct descendants left, even if they no longer live in these parts.” Mo frowned. “I think I’d better contact Jackie up north and see if she can track down the two up there.”
Jackie was one of Mo’s old school friends, if I remembered right. I’d never actually met her, but they talked regularly on the phone. “If someone intends to go after the competition, why now? That sword has been stuck in stone for hundreds of years and even we—the last of its guardians here in Ainslyn—don’t know what Uhtric ultimately intended beyond saving it for the next true king.”
Which in itself was rather odd given that Uhtric, at the time of his death, had one son and two daughters. Surely either his son or his grandsons, however young they’d been at the time, would have fit that description.
“The sword is a weapon against darkness and exists because evil exists,” Mo said. “But such power can be dangerous in the wrong hands, so the sword is always sheathed until the time comes again for its use.”
I blinked. “That sounds as if Uhtric wasn’t the first to draw the sword.”
“He wasn’t—there were two others before him. The sword is not a part of Aquitaine rule, even if only one who wears the crown can draw it.”
Which was news to me and made me wonder just how much more there was to the story of the sword and the crown than I’d been taught. “But the crown—and the rule—of the Aquitaine kings no longer exists.”
“Their rule might be long over, but the crown remains.”
I frowned. “Isn’t it a replica on display in the Tower of London? Wasn’t the real one destroyed in the cleansing of artifacts that happened after Layton married Elizabeth?”
Layton had been the very last king to sit on the Aquitaine throne. Not only had his marriage to Elizabeth of York combined human and witch royalty and signaled the end of true witch rule in England, it had also handed his descendants a means of curtailing any magical attacks on human monarchs—one that was still in force today.
“Yes, it is,” Mo said. “But the real crown wasn’t destroyed in the cleansing—it disappeared weeks before the marriage.”
“But he was wearing it the night of the ceremony.”
“That was a hastily created copy—the very one that now sits in the Tower. No one knows for sure who took the true crown, but some suspect the Blackbirds were involved.”
My confusion deepened. “Why would anyone think that, given their duty was to protect the king?”
“Their duty was to crown more than king, and Layton in his madness was in the process of destroying everything they’d sworn—on their lives—to protect. It was obviously enough to draw them out of what I can only presume was a self-imposed exile.”
“Layton wasn’t mad—”
“You didn’t know him.”
“Neither did you. You’re old, Gran, but you’re not that old.”
She swatted my arm. “Call me that again, and I’ll curse your sex life for the next month.”
“Go for it. It’s not like it’ll affect me in the slightest.”
In fact, I’d been in a serious rut ever since Tris had left to chase work in London ten months ago. He’d been my first boyfriend, and while we were no longer romantically involved, we remained in the “friends with benefits” category.