Free The Deathsniffer’s Assistant (The Faraday Files Book 1) by Kate McIntyre

of advice.” Fernand indicated Rosemary with his chin, who was struggling to pull on a rubber boot, making a face at how it ruined her ensemble. “You don’t want to hear it, but you spoil her far more than you can afford to. That pretty little dress she’s wearing doesn’t look home made.” He squeezed Chris’s shoulder. His grip was surprisingly strong. “It’s only for a few years. When Rosemary is categorized, things are going to change for both of you. She’s already better than half the binders powering this city combined. She’ll set things aright.” He peered at Chris’s face. “Are you upset with me?”
    Chris started. “Mother Deorwynn, no! Fernand. You do the best you can for us and ask nothing in return. And your best is much more than I’d even dare ask for. Thank you.”
    “Oh, Chris, as if I’ve ever done it for your thanks,” Fernand murmured kindly. “I hope you know I’ll always be here, I―”
    The chime of the mirror startled them both.
    Rosemary jumped to her feet. “Ooh!” she exclaimed, delighted to find a relief to the boredom of adults talking above her head. “Someone’s on the mirror!” She rushed to stand before it, now peering into the clouding depths instead of her own reflection.
    The chimes tolled again and again as the gnomes on either end were forced to connect and intertwine their consciousnesses. The reflections in the mirror darkened and then disappeared, and the faint suggestion of a face emerged. Rosemary leaned close, curious who could be calling them so early. The pane shimmered, the brown glow around it surged, and the vague silhouette in the glass sharpened all in a moment.
    It was Olivia Faraday.
    She stared at Rosemary. Rosemary stared back. “Ugh,” said Olivia Faraday, folding her arms. “
Tell
me he gave me the right frequency. Does Christopher Buckley live there?”
    “Oh!” Rosemary perked up. “Yes! That’s my brother! He’s right here!”
    “Wonder. Could you please tell your brother to get off his lazy, unreliable arse and get―”
    Chris hurried in front of the mirror, nudging Rosemary to one side and shooing her in the direction of Fernand. “That’s my sister,” he snapped at the mirror. “And she’s thirteen, so if you could please watch your language―”
    “Thirteen, really? And you’re still washing her mouth with soap?” Olivia tossed her head. “She hears twice as bad from all her friends, I’ll bet. Probably uses twice as bad, herself.”
    “You don’t know anything about my―”
    “
Why
aren’t you here?”
    Chris paused in the tirade he’d been preparing. He stared at Olivia, at her carefully chosen professional dress, her hair braided no-nonsense down her back. And behind her, dim lighting, flickering candles―she was at the mirror in the office. “…isn’t it…” He half-turned to look at Fernand and Rosemary, who looked back with helpless expressions. “It’s my day off,” he finished foolishly.
    When he looked back at the mirror, Olivia’s face was incredulous.
    “What, isn’t it?” he demanded, suddenly indignant. “I worked for five days straight. It’s Healfday. Tomorrow is Godsday. You said I would have both off from work. Last week―”
    Olivia threw her hands into the air. “Did you sleep through yesterday?” She waited for him to realize what she meant, and when he obviously did not, she growled. “You’re an imbecile. Someone was
killed
, murdered, and whoever did it is probably working on concealing themselves in plain sight right
now
, and you”―she let out an astonished bark of laughter―“and you want to sleep in? What did you think, we would pick this up on Maerday? Like we hadn’t let all the evidence go cold and potential witnesses wander free for two days?”
    “I don’t know!” Chris snapped. “Shouldn’t you have told me instead of just assuming I knew? I’ve never done this before! You, on the other hand, are quite―”
    Olivia pointed a finger at him