Bewitching Season by Marissa Doyle Page A

besides you and us knows that there is anything out of the ordinary about her? And why
    would it matter?” Mr. Allardyce asked.
    “That man knew. Remember, Father? The man in the shop that day when she came for a visit? The
    one with the Irish accent?” Lorelei prodded him. “He wanted to buy that old grimoire you were
    saving for her that I got mixed up with the other books. He kept looking at us and trying to listen to
    what we were saying. I thought I’d scare him off by shoving the cake knife at him, but it didn’t work.”
    “Don’t be silly, Lorrie,” said Mrs. Allardyce firmly.
    “But Melly said she thought he was a wizard! So why shouldn’t—”
    “Hush, Lorelei!” Mr. Allardyce interrupted. “Have you tried to do anything to contact her?”
    “No,” said Pen. “It’s why we’re here. We weren’t sure that she might not really be taking care of a
    sick relative, after all.”
    “I have,” Persy volunteered, in a low voice. “Tried to find her, that is.”
    Pen stared at her. “You have? Why didn’t you tell me?”
    “What method did you use, Miss Leland?” asked Mr. Allardyce.
    “Scrying, in my washbowl. It, er, didn’t show me much. Ally hadn’t gone much into it with us yet.”
    Lorrie looked impressed. “You really can do magic? I thought that girls like you were just empty-
    head—” She flushed and sat back in her chair.
    “That’s enough out of you, miss,” admonished her mother. She looked pale but determined. “John,
    this is more in your line. Why don’t you see what you can find with the maps? Lorrie, some
    refreshments, if you please. And—” She glanced toward Lochinvar, back studiously to them. “Do you
    want him as well?”
    Mr. Allardyce turned to the girls. “What my wife is suggesting is that I try to locate Melusine with
    a map-dowsing spell. Have you ever seen one?”
    “No,” said Persy, interested. “Ally’s mentioned them, but we’ve not tried them. She wanted us to
    perfect our mental technique before we moved to manipulating with the physical.”
    “A good approach,” he approved. “You should be able to control and utilize your own internal
    power before learning to use externals. Is milord Seton, ah, acquainted with your abilities?”
    “No!” Persy replied urgently. “He doesn’t know anything about it. He knows we’re worried about
    Ally, but he accompanied us as a favor and to find a certain book. If maybe Mrs. Allardyce …”
    “I’ll keep him occupied for as long as you need. Go on. I’ll manage.” Mrs. Allardyce nodded at
    them, then moved toward Lochinvar with a bright smile.
    The small back office looked more like Persy’s memories of her previous visit to the shop, with
    piles of books stacked round the room. Mr. Allardyce set out two chairs for them, cleared several
    stacks and numerous sheaves of paper from the center table, then sorted through a pile of rolled
    parchment until he grunted in satisfaction and pulled one out. He unrolled it on the table, holding it
    down at the corners with books, and Persy saw that it was a map of England.
    Next Mr. Allardyce rummaged in a drawer of his desk and pulled out a turned-brass plumb bob
    hanging from a short length of chain, and a long brass ruler. He stood over the table a moment, eyes
    closed, the pendulum hanging loosely between the thumb and forefinger of his right hand.
    “Very well,” he said, opening his eyes again. “This is what is known as map dowsing. I am going
    to move the ruler very slowly over the map while holding the pendulum above it, and ask the
    pendulum to indicate when it passes over where she is. We’ll draw a line, and do it again from the
    other axis to find a point. Then we will change maps again, until we can locate her quite precisely.
    Do you understand?”
    Pen nodded, eyes wide, and looked expectantly at the pendulum as Mr. Allardyce slowly began to
    slide the ruler over the map. When the brass weight began to circle counterclockwise