Spellmaker

CHAPTER 22

There would be no honeymoon, of course. Not yet. Not while everything else in their lives was so unsure.

But they certainly made the best of their first night together. Enough so that had they employed servants—that was, servants besides the men Bacchus had brought from Barbados—Elsie might never have left the bedroom. But such was not the case, and things needed to be done. The world would still turn even if Elsie didn’t want it to.

She wanted to hold on to this intoxicating bliss for as long as the universe would allow it.

Bacchus, ever the responsible one, faced the day first. Watching him dress was nearly as tantalizing as watching him undress. It was evident he’d made a full recovery from whatever the siphoning spell had taken from him. With his hair still loose and his cravat dangling on either side of his neck, he returned to the edge of the bed and kissed her, slowly and sweetly. All of it was genuine, for true to his word, he had not a single spell on him. Elsie had checked. Thoroughly.

“If we want to eat, we’ll have to venture out of doors,” he said.

“I’ve heard fasting can be a healthy practice,” Elsie countered. That earned her a smile and a second kiss, but Bacchus moved toward the door anyway.

“I’ll see that we hire a maid and purchase a curricle this week.” He ran his fingers through his dark waves, still sun-kissed on the ends, before pulling the locks back into a tie. “We’ll need both, with all the travel back and forth to Brookley.”

Elsie sat up, holding the sheet to her, her own bed-mussed hair falling over her shoulders. Without Emmeline’s help, she’d be wearing it simply today. Nothing a good hat couldn’t hide. “Perhaps it’s for the best. Another, oh, three years of falsified training will see me contributing to the expenses.”

Bacchus smirked. “I’ll remind you it’s unnecessary. I’m perfectly capable of keeping a wife.”

She loved the way that word sounded on his lips. Wife. “And I’m perfectly capable of keeping a husband.”

His eyes dropped momentarily to her half-covered breasts. “Indeed you are.”

Elsie flushed.

Chuckling, Bacchus excused himself to the privy. With a yawn and a stretch, Elsie let herself out of bed and padded to her larger trunk, finding in it a clean chemise. She picked up her corset off the floor. It laced in the front, so she pulled it on herself. Then, from the smaller trunk, she retrieved her crinkled opus spell and tucked it into the boning.

With her new life situation, a corset might not be the smartest place to hide the thing. Did she need to keep it at all? The worry that had compelled her to carry it around for so long had faded, but it wasn’t as though she could sell it. Perhaps Ogden could make some use of it, if he didn’t already know the spell—

The sound of scratching drew her attention to one of Bacchus’s trunks, as though a mouse had hidden beneath its lid and was desperate for escape. She moved toward it and lifted the lid, listening for the scratching. She moved two shirts and a pair of shoes before the sound stopped, but she managed to find the culprit.

It was a pencil, a tiny, silvery rune glimmering on its end.

She’d left its green partner with Emmeline. Pulling the pencil free, she searched for parchment, but couldn’t find any. Sighing, she took it to the white-painted window ledge. She’d clean it later. In small print, she wrote, Please repeat. I didn’t have paper ready.

Two seconds ticked by before Emmeline’s familiar script wrote, Raven appeared again! He agreed to come back in three hours’ time. He wants to talk to you.

The door opened behind her. “I would say the purple dress, but I rather like this look on you.”

Elsie, clad solely in her underthings, turned about. “We need to go to Brookley right away. Master Raven has agreed to meet with us.”

When Quinn Raven appeared this time, his image was much clearer. This was a phenomenal sign, for it meant he dared to move closer to the stonemasonry shop. Admittedly, Bacchus wasn’t entirely sure how far an astral projection spell could stretch. It likely depended on the strength of the person casting it. And given Master Raven’s previous revelations, he was in the top tier of spellmakers.

“We’ve been unable to locate her,” Mr. Ogden was saying. They’d all pulled up chairs to watch the somewhat murky middle-aged man in the corner. He hovered a few inches above the floor and wore dark clothing. He had a beard coming in and wore a hat. His features were just sharp enough that Bacchus could make out a large nose above a firm scowl and narrow jaw.

“Then you’re not looking hard enough,” spat the American.

Mr. Ogden, arms folded across his chest, kept his temper. “I assure you that is not the case.”

“She’s been hiding for some time,” Elsie said, picking at the hem of her sleeve. She did that when she was nervous, but Bacchus didn’t think she was aware of it. “First she retired, then she moved, then she faked her death. She won’t reveal herself unless absolutely necessary.”

Bacchus said, “We’ll need to bait her.”

Master Raven scoffed. “She wants the woman, doesn’t she? Perhaps you should dangle her from that enormous clock of yours.”

Ogden leaned forward. “I believe you would be a more enticing target.”

Master Raven didn’t miss a beat. “Absolutely not.”

“You’re the one she truly wants,” Elsie pressed. She sounded desperate. Bacchus ran his thumb along her forearm before settling a hand on her thigh.

“Do you know what I’ve sacrificed?” The image shifted as Master Raven moved his weight from one leg to the other. “I have been running for over a decade. I’ve never stayed anywhere longer than a month. I forfeited my property, my livelihood, my studies—”

“Don’t you want to rest?” Bacchus risked interrupting him. “We will protect you. We will work together to disarm her, and then you can settle wherever you’d like.”

The spiritual aspector didn’t seem convinced.

Miss Pratt, softly, said, “It would make a wonderful story.”

Elsie perked. “It would. That is, if you wanted it, Master Raven. An esteemed spellmaker, returned from the dead, saves the world!”

Master Raven clicked his tongue. “Preposterous.” And yet, despite Miss Prescott’s testament that the man was a recluse, Bacchus thought he detected a hum of interest in the American’s voice. Eleven years alone was a long time, particularly for a man who must have been accustomed to acclaim and recognition.

“How would we use him?” Mr. Ogden rubbed his chin, speaking as though Master Raven had agreed to play the lure. “How do we get through to Merton? Would she notice newspaper articles geared toward her?”

“She might not get the paper where she is,” Elsie said. “She hasn’t responded to anything we’ve published to get Master Raven’s attention. She doesn’t know he came to England.”

“Mr. Ogden,” Bacchus said, “do you happen to know the spell for visual illusions?”

Mr. Ogden’s gaze narrowed. “I do, but it’s only an intermediate spell. I . . . was never able to find or purchase anything more.”

“Illusions?” Master Raven repeated. His blurry eyes shifted to Elsie. “You told me he was with the Physical Atheneum!”

“He is,” Elsie shot back. “Legally.”

Master Raven laughed. “What am I going to say about it? Heaven forbid there be some competence in this group.”

Bacchus tried not to take the comment to heart. “How big of an illusion can you create?”

Mr. Ogden looked around. “Perhaps something the size of this room, if it were simple enough.”

“How simple are birds?”

The artist’s forehead crinkled, then smoothed. “You want me to make ravens?”

“If we put on enough of a show in the right place, people will talk,” Bacchus offered. “Master Merton may be in hiding, but if she’s still searching for Master Raven . . . she’ll find out, one way or another.”

“Where?”

Bacchus considered. “I can think of a few places where a sudden flock would draw attention.”

Miss Pratt said, “But won’t they know he’s the one doing it?”

“Not if he never leaves the carriage,” Elsie chimed in. “In fact, we had plans to purchase one, didn’t we?” She passed Bacchus a conniving smile that made her blue eyes brighter.

“Indeed.”

Master Raven grumbled something under his breath.

“Pardon?” Elsie asked.

“Fine.” The word was a bullet. “But don’t be stupid and get caught ahead of time. And don’t move. I’m coming to you.”

Elsie shot up from her seat. “You are?”

“Don’t get your skirts twisted. But if you’re going to announce me to the world, I intend to do my part. I have a few tricks up my sleeve.”

Spells of luck and blessings, most likely—they were the most popular spells requested of spiritual aspectors.

Mr. Ogden said, “But we don’t just want Merton’s attention. We want her. We need to draw her out to a safe place, somewhere we can apprehend her. Without witnesses.”

Quiet settled for several seconds before Miss Pratt said, “What about the Thornfield barn?”

“Pardon?” Mr. Ogden turned in his chair to better see her.

Miss Pratt flushed. “That is . . . it’s a large, run-down barn on the road to Aylesbury. I pass it on my way home. The owner died some ten years ago, and only half his farm is still being run. The barn isn’t on it.”

“We could start in Rochester, perhaps.” Elsie’s hand covered Bacchus’s, and she gripped his index finger, perhaps seeking courage. “Send up the ravens near the estate, and again in London. Until they make the papers.”

Bacchus added, “And then start over again, making a trail toward the barn.”

“Where I’ll be hanging on a meat hook,” Master Raven grumbled.

“I’ll stay with you,” Elsie offered. “Bacchus could drive the curricle.”

“Leave me with an amateur spellbreaker while the two useful people are far away?”

Elsie’s brows drew together. “I’m not an amateur.” Her expression relaxed. “But if you want spellmakers”—she glanced to Bacchus—“then Master Kelsey can guard you as well. I happen to know someone who is rather adept at driving a carriage.”

“Who?” Mr. Ogden asked.

“Irene, of course.” Elsie grinned. “And then we’ll have two spellbreakers ready to thwart Merton’s magic. And if Miss Pratt can alert the local police near the end, we’ll have their assistance as well. Ogden and I will make ourselves scarce before they arrive.”

Miss Pratt nodded eagerly. “I can do that.”

“Let’s think on it, and speak in person.” Mr. Ogden looked to Master Raven’s projection. “We’ll be waiting for you.”