Spellmaker

CHAPTER 23

The Thornfield barn was visible from the main road but not close to it. Wild grass and weeds swept Bacchus’s knees as he walked to it; he couldn’t imagine how bothersome it would be in a skirt. Elsie kept a firm grip on his elbow as they headed toward the run-down, abandoned building, which looked to have been blue at one time but had faded to a shade of gray that matched the overcast sky. Master Raven walked a few paces ahead of them, his strides sure. He expected the terrain to yield to him, not the other way around.

He was shorter than Bacchus had expected, but then again, Bacchus had only before seen him hovering three feet above the floor.

Two days ago, Master Raven had arrived at the stonemasonry shop and bestowed blessings of luck like a curmudgeonly Santa Claus. Miss Prescott and Mr. Ogden had ridden out that night and the following day, spreading illusions of ravens in unlikely places where bystanders were sure to pay attention to the birds rather than the spellcaster. Sure enough, the sightings had been reported in this morning’s newspaper. Not wanting to lose their momentum, they intended to strike tonight. The sun was starting to set, and Mr. Ogden and Miss Prescott were on their way here, casting ravens as they went, hoping to draw Merton from her hiding place. If it didn’t work, they would repeat the maneuver in a few days. If it never worked . . . Bacchus wasn’t sure what they would do then, or how long they’d be able to convince Master Raven to stay with them.

Miss Pratt was poised and ready to alert the local police force the moment Master Raven told her to via astral projection. Mr. Camden accompanied her.

They were silent entering the barn. One of the loft doors was crooked, hanging on its topmost hinge. The walls leaned slightly to the north. Not enough for Bacchus to be concerned about the soundness of the structure, but a strengthening spell certainly wouldn’t hurt it. The paddock doors were all locked, but the alley doors on either side of the building opened with the pull of a simple barrel slide. Bacchus found an old lamp hanging from a timber jolt and lit it with a spell. Something scurried away when he did. He glanced at Elsie, but if she heard the sound of rodent feet, it didn’t bother her.

She lifted her skirts as she walked over the filthy flooring, which covered about two-thirds of the ground. Some of the boards had rotted through or bent as though weighed down by something heavy. The hay store was empty, and the place smelled of winter and mold. There were two stall walls still standing, about four feet high, strewn with spiderwebs.

“Cozy.” Master Raven’s arms were folded tight across his chest. He spun in a slow circle, taking in the rafters and the narrow windows.

Looking to Elsie, Bacchus said, “They should be here soon. I’m going to walk the perimeter to make sure we don’t have any witnesses or surprises.” He’d seen nothing coming in, but the last thing he wanted was to miss something that might result in an easy escape for Merton or jail time for him and the others.

Elsie pressed her lips together and tugged on her sleeve, but she nodded. “I’ll look around in here.”

Master Raven scoffed, but said nothing.

Outside, the air was growing progressively cooler, though it was still midsummer. A storm must have been blowing in. The clouds were shades of gray and blue, pierced through with gold on the western horizon. Nightfall was on its way. Distant trees swayed with a strong gust of wind. With the help of other physical aspectors, Bacchus could have hurried the storm along or even stopped it entirely, for a time, but a lone person couldn’t direct Mother Nature. Not that he wanted to. The cover might come in handy, though he wasn’t sure about rain.

He scanned the tree line, waiting for shadows to move, but there was nothing. This land had been abandoned a while ago, and no one had yet put in the work to restore it. He walked around the barn, stopping once to reinforce a sad-looking brace with a spell. As he came around the back of the barn, he heard movement and stopped, squinting across the darkening field, but it was only a hare bounding away, startled by him or some other carnivore lurking in the grass.

And then Bacchus felt the most euphoric sensation overcome him. His chest warmed, his nerves calmed, his muscles relaxed. There was something familiar about it . . . Distantly he questioned why he would feel so peaceful now, outside a dilapidated barn, awaiting his greatest enemy—

It came to him then. This feeling; it was something he got when he attended church in the city, when an attending spiritual aspector invoked inner peace, or the calling of the Holy Spirit. Raven—

He turned around, startling at the shadow beside him. A hand whipped up to his neck, cool fingers pressing into the skin. He jerked away, a shout ready on his lips.

“Be quiet,” a familiar voice murmured.

And Bacchus was, as though a string tied to his lips had jerked up, holding his jaw shut. Panic pulsed through his chest, but as soon as he thought to flee, his body ceased to obey him.

The shadow shifted forward, dim light revealing the face of someone he had dined with on multiple occasions. The moment he saw her eyes, he knew what had happened, and his stomach fell. Dread leaked into his limbs like spilled oil, cold as a January breeze.

Bacchus pushed against the magic, trying to pry open his mouth. If he could just warn them—

“None of that.” The hold on his lips doubled. Merton frowned at him, the expression drawing heavy lines down her face. “You’re an easy one to track, Master Kelsey. You stand out in the crowd. I would kill you and take your magic for myself, but she would never forgive me. Instead, we’re going to work together. Won’t that be fun?”

Somehow, without speaking, Merton told him to turn around, and even in his desperation not to heed her, his body obeyed.

It was going to work. It had to.

Elsie rubbed her hands together as she paced the length of the barn, eyeing a spider disappearing through a knot in a wooden floor plank. The lighting was uneven with the lamp and the darkening sky, which might affect their vision, should they need to dash outside. Would it be best to extinguish that light? But no, they needed Merton to know Master Raven was here.

She glanced at the spiritual spellmaker, who looked lost in thought, arms folded, mouth twisted. His long, gray-streaked hair fell over both shoulders, and his beard nearly touched it. He still wore his hat.

Then she heard the faint hum of a spell.

She straightened. “What are you doing?”

Master Raven didn’t respond right away. His movements were slow, like he was stuck in honey. Then he scowled.

“I was projecting myself to the road. It lets me see what’s going on.” Dismissing her with a dip of his head, he cast the spell again. For a moment its song seemed to be a harmony, two sounds dancing together, but when Elsie focused, she found it was the same spell as before.

She went back to rubbing her hands together. Everything would be fine. Merton was powerful, yes, but they outnumbered her. Ogden could seize her mind, and Bacchus could seize her body so she couldn’t escape, couldn’t cast spells. Elsie and Irene were on hand in case she tried. Emmeline would come with the police if they needed backup, and they had Master Raven. Elsie couldn’t imagine what a duel between two spiritually aligned spellmakers would look like, but hopefully it wouldn’t come to that.

The most critical thing was protecting Master Raven. They knew Merton had at least one rational opus in her possession. A master mind-reading spell would be able to dig deep enough into Master Raven’s brain to pull out the contagion spell Merton was after, with or without the man’s cooperation. They could not allow that to happen.

The question was whether Merton would come alone. It would be an easy matter for her to acquire another Master Phillips to fight at her side, but even if she did, their numbers would still be greater . . .

The alley door opened and Bacchus strode in, the sight of him relaxing muscles Elsie hadn’t known were tight. “Anything?”

Bacchus shook his head. “It’s all clear.”

Master Raven snorted, but said nothing more.

Elsie crossed the floor and stood next to Bacchus, finding comfort in his warmth. She got only a flicker of it before he moved to the window in one of the paddock doors.

“They’re coming.” Master Raven blinked and straightened, adjusting the lapels of his coat. “This had better work.”

“If you can spy ahead, so can Merton,” Elsie said.

“She’ll know it’s a trap.”

“Of course it’s a trap.” Elsie’s anxiety was making her words hard and quick. “We’re luring her with ravens. But if she’s willing to kill for your spell, then she’ll risk a trap for it as well.” Unless Elsie was entirely wrong in guessing the woman’s motives. But between receiving regular missives from Lily Merton for ten years and their recent tête-à-tête, she was sure she was right.

Taking a deep breath, she stepped beside Bacchus. The last tendrils of golden sunlight were seeping behind the cloud-tipped horizon. The farm was so overgrown she could almost pretend they were in a meadow, though the distant fence ruined the effect somewhat.

“There’s enough light for them to get here without problem. They’ll park the carriage around back.” She could hear the horses approaching the barn now, struggling through the weeds.

Bacchus nodded. “All will be well. I was just admiring the dogwood.”

“Oh.” She peered out the window, but didn’t see any of the tall branches or white buds that hugged the stonemasonry shop. She leaned forward, searching, but saw only meadow, distant trees, and far-off hills slowly being swallowed by night’s shadow.

“Where is—”

Ice flashed through her limbs.

Dogwood.

Her mind flashed back to their moment outside the stonemasonry shop, standing in the bushes’ shade. It will be a password, of sorts.

She’d heard two songs when Master Raven cast his spell. Bacchus had been outside, alone.

Merton was already here. And she hadn’t brought a lackey—she’d made one on the fly.

Bacchus.

Her heart blenched as one of the alley doors flew open, Irene hurrying inside, breathless, Ogden right behind her. He nearly shut her skirt in the door.

“That’s that,” he said. “Now we—”

Elsie whirled around. “Take Raven and run!”

Confusion flashed across Irene’s features, but Ogden stiffened, tense.

Elsie rushed for them. “Get him out—”

The old floorboards of the barn bucked and shook, sending Elsie to a knee. They threw Master Raven and Irene to the ground; Ogden grabbed the door latch and stayed upright, his eyes darting to Bacchus, whose hand was outstretched.

“What are you doing?” Ogden barked, just as the floor grew up over their feet.

Elsie’s heartbeat threatened to break skin. “She’s controlling him!” She slid her hands over the misshaped mounds binding her down and broke the spell. Irene had already done the same and ran to Ogden to free him, only to have the floor swallow her steps and knock her down, nearly twisting her ankle.

Bacchus turned and marched toward Raven, throwing a spell at Elsie that thickened the air around her. She might as well have been walking through a ball of yarn. She saw the glimmering rune ahead of her, but reaching it was like trying to breathe honey.

Bacchus grabbed Master Raven by the lapels and shoved him onto the floor. Master Raven’s clothing stiffened around him, making him look more like a nutcracker than a man. Pinning one of his hands down, Bacchus made the wood mold up around it and harden into a shackle.

Elsie, lungs struggling to breathe, reached the rune and untied it. The return of normal gravity had her collapsing to the floor, gasping for air.

“Now that I have your attention,” said a sweet voice. Elsie whirled around to see Merton near the center paddock door, dressed in simple violet, her gray hair pulled back into a thin twist. The smile on her face faltered. “We have a spellbreaker on the loose, Master Kelsey.”

She pointed not at Elsie, but at Irene, who had again freed herself and was crawling toward Ogden. Standing, Bacchus motioned his right forward, and a burst of wind swept across the barn, picking Irene up off her feet and slamming her into the alley doors.

“Stop!” Elsie cried, running for her friend, but a rune sparked to life near her knees, thickening the air once more. This time, however, it was only the air around her legs.

“Ogden!” Elsie screamed.

Ogden shook his head. His face was red and perspiring from his struggle against Bacchus’s spell. “I can’t get to her! She has the same thing Phillips had . . .” The air tingled as a rational spell swam to Merton. “No, not the same. Different—”

“You’re so noisy on your own, Cuthbert,” Merton said, dismissing him with a wave of her hand. Her gaze moved to Master Raven. “After all these years, this is how we meet? I was hoping it would be on friendlier terms.”

Master Raven spat in Merton’s direction.

She was unfazed, her eyes shifting to Elsie. “I still want to have a real chat, my dear. Just you and I.”

Incredulous, Elsie didn’t know what to say. She bent over and untied the spell holding her in place.

“I’ll let him go if you come with me.”

She froze. Merton didn’t mean Master Raven.

Elsie’s gaze moved to Bacchus, who stood guard over the American, waiting for his next command. He was straight and unmoving, yet in his eyes Elsie saw despair. Resistance.

Blinking to clear her vision, Elsie whispered, “Where is it? The spell?”

“Really?” Merton complained, but she was looking past Elsie. “You can’t stay down?”

Elsie turned to see Irene freeing Ogden from his binds.

“It really is pointless to keep you alive.” She waved a hand, and Bacchus raised his.

“Bacchus, no!” Elsie ran toward him. The air crackled as lightning shot from his fingertips.

Elsie intercepted it, feeling a jolt up her arm as she dis-spelled the blast just as she had with Nash at Seven Oaks.

“Impressive!” Merton cheered. “You’re such a wonderful asset, Elsie. Surely we can work things out. I’ll move on without you if I must, but—”

Elsie didn’t hear what else the psychotic woman had to say, because Bacchus sent out another blast, this one sailing past Elsie and slamming into the alley door. Which, Elsie noted, also had floor growth up and over it, preventing escape. Ogden dodged the blow and sprinted toward Merton.

Bacchus ran to intercept him. The men collided. Bacchus was larger, but Ogden was dense and strong in his own right. Bacchus’s left hand came up to Ogden’s windpipe and squeezed.

“Stop!” Elsie darted forward and grabbed Bacchus’s arm, trying to wrench it back. She succeeded, but Bacchus’s hand leapt at her like a viper, a rune of speed glittering into existence before Elsie’s eyes. His fingers grabbed her bodice and threw her with alarming force. Her dress tore, and she hit the floorboards hard on her shoulder, hissing through her teeth as pain radiated across her collarbone. Bruised, but not broken.

Bacchus shoved Ogden back, and a rune twisted around his feet, fusing him to the floor. Whipping around, Bacchus sent another wind spell over Elsie’s head to where Irene was trying to reach Raven. Raven still had one free hand, and the barn sang with his spells.

Merton laughed. “Your curses won’t work on me, old man.”

“Merton, stop this!” Elsie pushed herself onto her knees. “You want to talk, let’s talk!”

Merton smiled. “Later, dear. When we’re not so distracted.”

Raven shifted his attention to Bacchus, and a spell hummed over Elsie’s head, striking him. He faltered, suddenly clumsy. Elsie took the opportunity to rush to Ogden and free him.

A sensation like a cool breath washed over Elsie’s skin as Ogden joined the assault, sending a rational spell into Bacchus’s mind. Bacchus grabbed his head and roared. Lightning started streaking from him in every direction, a bolt nearly hitting Raven. The walls of the barn began to groan and shift as though caught in a storm—but Bacchus couldn’t cast two spells at once. That had to be Merton employing a physical spell. If she’d brought a large enough arsenal of opus spells, they were going to lose.

Elsie scrambled to Raven and freed one of his feet before lightning hit the back of her thigh. She screamed and jerked away, putting out the small flames erupting on her skirt. It burned terribly. Irene flew to her side, limping, helping with Raven. One of Bacchus’s fists found a home in Ogden’s face, breaking the rational spellmaker’s hold on him.

Raven, free, ran to the alley doors behind them. Bacchus’s attention shot to him, and the entire barn began to shake with another earthquake.

All the while Merton watched them, tapping a folded opus page against her shoulder, as though she had all the time in the world to see Bacchus destroy them. Why didn’t she just use the spell and end it? She’d have Ogden’s and Bacchus’s opuses to add to her collection. She’d lock Elsie up, kill Irene, torture Raven for more information—

It was so strange, the way she nonchalantly stood there as violence erupted around her. Merton never partook in the violence. She’d run from the dinner at Seven Oaks when Nash attacked. She’d hired and controlled lackeys to kill, kidnap, and steal on her behalf—and always kept far away in the aftermath. The two times she’d risked revealing herself to Elsie, in jail and in Philips’s cellar, she’d done so as an astral projection.

Squinting, Elsie studied Merton.

I can’t get to her! She has the same thing Phillips had, Ogden had said. No, not the same. Different . . .

How could two guard spells against rational invasion be different?

Why had Merton cast only one opus spell, and on the barn walls, no less?

A spell that could be cast from outside?

Elsie gasped. Merton didn’t have a protection spell against Ogden. And Master Raven’s curses would work against her.

That was, if Merton were really here.

This was an astral projection. It had to be. But it was so crisp, so pristine . . . Merton had to be very close to make it this realistic.

Elsie pulled the spiritual aspector up and shoved him in Irene’s direction. “Get Raven out!”

Irene grabbed Master Raven’s arm and bolted for the back alley door.

Bacchus whirled on them, still clumsy from his spiritual curse. Lightning flashed from his hands—

Elsie didn’t stop to see where it landed. She rushed for the nearest paddock door and dived through its window, her skirts getting caught twice. Something bit into her knee as she struggled to free the material. She landed, swallowing a cry as she hurt her bruised shoulder. Dust flew into her mouth, and wild grass stabbed her eye. She found her footing and stood, a chill running down her torso as night air seeped through the tear in her dress, showing off a handful of chemise underneath.

It was dark, save for moonlight filtered through clouds. But it wasn’t much brighter in the barn. Her eyes took only a moment to adjust.

Balling up her skirts immodestly, wincing as they brushed the burn on her leg, Elsie walked around the barn, searching for another presence. Nothing. Her pulse raced, her body hurt, her hands and the dip of her spine perspired, but Elsie closed her eyes, imagining she was in Master Phillips’s cellar again.

Irene screamed.

Elsie ground her teeth and focused. Spells lit up like waking fireflies—physical, spiritual, and rational enchantments radiating from the barn. The building quivered with a physical spell threatening to destroy its walls. The floors shuddered with a quake.

But there was another spell, to the north. Away from the rest, in a copse of trees. Elsie moved around it until she could see the faintest silhouette of a woman. Until she could hear the slightest whisper of a song.

Her mind spun. Holding her breath, she approached. Her thoughts were a jumble of half-remembered missives on silver paper. Of clipped discussions at dinner tables, in prison cells, in cellars. They pieced themselves together a little more with every step.

She didn’t get too close before Merton snapped to attention and turned toward her.

“You were right.” Elsie rushed to speak first. She dropped her skirts and held up both hands in surrender. “I want to talk. Don’t hurt them. Just talk to me.”

It was too dark to see the expression on Merton’s face. “You always were a bright one, Elsie. That’s why I like you. No farther, mind you.”

“You know about my parents. My family.” A lump started to form in Elsie’s throat; she swallowed it down. “You lost yours, too.”

Merton didn’t respond.

“They left me,” Elsie whispered.

“They didn’t know what you were.” The silhouette turned, an opus spell ready in one hand, an array of spiritual spells ready in the other. Merton seemed a little distracted—she had to actively control Bacchus, after all, and present herself in a way that made her projection in the barn seem like the real her. All of which should work to Elsie’s advantage.

“I wish I’d known it was you from the beginning,” Elsie pressed, inching a little closer, moving so slowly—that burn hurt—she hoped it was imperceptible. “We’ve disagreed, yes, but you’re right. About everything. I fell in love with a rich man and didn’t want to see it anymore. The pain, the suffering, the unfairness. You only want to make the world better—”

“The world will be better.” Merton’s tone was firm. “I will make it better. I will pull that spell from Raven and make it better.” Her voice grew steely. “He’s a coward. I could have done it differently if he’d listened. He forced my hand.”

“But you don’t want to be alone,” Elsie guessed. “And you don’t have to be. I can help you bear that burden. I can help you.”

Merton paused.

Elsie got in another step. She was four paces from the woman now. “I wish I’d known it was you,” she repeated, softer, “because then I might have had a mother.”

No response. Elsie gained another inch.

“I don’t like the deaths. You know that.” Elsie needed to be careful with her words. She needed to sound genuine. “But you’re the only one who’s ever really been there for me. I realized it when I thought you’d died. Not my family, not Ogden, truly. Even my husband is only my husband because of some twisted sense of chivalry.” Another step. She pressed her hands to her heart. “You rescued me, Lily.” A few more inches. Elsie’s thumb dipped down into her corset. “You saved me from a life as a pauper in a workhouse. I wish you hadn’t hidden from me all these years—”

“I didn’t want to,” Merton said. Her posture was still stiff, but her expression had softened. “I couldn’t have loose ends. I had to know you were trustworthy. Not many will do what it takes to bring true unity to the world. True peace and equality. I had to test you. Train you. My dear, you exceed expectations. But you spent too long in that mason’s household. I never should have sent you to Seven Oaks. No farther.”

Elsie halted. “What can I do to you, Lily? I’m only a spellbreaker. If I wanted you out of that barn, I would have disenchanted the projection.”

She swallowed against the lump in her throat and let herself stew in the dark feelings she’d been suppressing. Her love for Bacchus, and the anxiety it instilled in her. Her fear that he, Ogden, Irene, and even Raven might be killed tonight. She reached even deeper: the shock of knowing her eldest brother had died without her ever knowing him. The grief of having a lost sister. Of knowing her parents had abandoned her. The guilt of having played a part, however unintentional, in the killing of so many aspectors.

Her throat squeezed, and the tears came. More importantly, they leaked into her voice. They sounded like conviction.

“Lily, please. I-I don’t want them to die. Of course I don’t.” Because no version of herself would wish that upon people she loved. “But . . . maybe we can start over. Maybe you can tell me your story. All of it.”

Another step.

“I want to understand you. Please.”

Merton’s shoulders slackened. “Only you know what it feels like. To be truly alone.”

Elsie nodded. “As you do.”

And she dared to close the gap between them. To embrace her enemy.

Merton didn’t stop her. Nor did she notice the whisper of paper as Elsie pulled it from her corset.

Elsie embraced Master Lily Merton. Let the woman feel the tears on her cheek. Pressed both her hands into her back.

And whispered, “Excitant.”

The opus spell vanished from her fingers. For a moment, Merton went limp in her arms.

The chaos in the barn quieted.

“Oh.” The older woman pulled back from the embrace. A sliver of moonlight fell upon them, and in Merton’s face Elsie saw surprise. Confusion. “Oh, my dear . . . Who are you?” She stepped back and took in the old farm. “Goodness, where am I? I . . . was just in my office at the atheneum . . .” She patted her cheeks, perhaps making sure she was all there. “Oh my. My dear, what is your name?”

“Elsie Amanda Kelsey,” Elsie said, every part of her wound like a spring.

“Elsie. A lovely name.”

Elsie swallowed. The master spell must have taken at least ten years off Merton’s memory if the aspector didn’t remember her. But it needed to be more if she were to forget the one person who mattered most.

“What year is it?” Elsie asked.

Merton blinked. “Why, it’s 1880, of course. Tomorrow is Christmas . . .” She spun around, taking in the cool summer night. A hand pressed to her mouth. “I . . . I don’t understand. Is this a temporal spell of some sort?”

Then she pulled her hand back and examined it, as though unused to the wrinkles there.

Heavy footsteps sounded behind Elsie. She turned, seeing a dark figure approach. But without someone upholding the other end of the control spell, it was as good as moot.

Elsie held up her hands. “It’s fine. She’s harmless.”

Bacchus stopped in his tracks. “Harmless? What do you mean?”

“Master Kelsey,” Elsie said carefully, “this is Master Lily Merton. The atheneum has been looking for her. You were right to check out here, but I’m afraid she doesn’t remember a thing.”

Bacchus’s eyes narrowed. Behind him, Ogden was coming out of the barn, holding the lamp high over his head. When he neared, Elsie grasped Merton’s hand to show she was harmless. “I didn’t throw all the spells in the Thames,” she admitted.

Bacchus’s brows drew only closer together, but Ogden understood, even without reading her mind. His eyes shifted between Elsie and Merton several times before he said, “Which did you keep?”

“Forgetfulness. She thinks it’s December of 1880.”

Merton tensed. “What . . . Who are you?” She looked between the new faces. “What am I doing here?” She touched her forehead with her free hand.

Elsie let out a shaky breath. “It’s fine now. Everyone is safe.”

“Not enough.”

Elsie turned, barely making out Raven’s shadow at the edge of Ogden’s light. “Fifteen years gone,” she said. “She doesn’t remember any of it. She doesn’t remember you.”

“Who?” Merton’s voice carried a note of anxiety. Elsie squeezed her hand.

But Raven shook his head. “She’s the same person with the same motivations. Having her forget isn’t enough. Your little spell doesn’t undo her crimes. It won’t bring my friends back.”

Merton was crying now. “What crimes?”

Elsie set her jaw. “Ogden, distract her, please.”

She felt a slight distortion in the air between Ogden, who stood still as an ancient tree, and Merton, whose breathing suddenly calmed. Her eyes slipped away from them, seeing something that wasn’t there, and her lips turned up. The image Ogden had pushed into her mind must have been beautiful.

Elsie turned her focus back to Raven. “She doesn’t remember.”

“It doesn’t matter,” he pressed.

“But in her mind she’s innocent—”

“Elsie.” Ogden’s voice was soft, his concentration on his spell. His eyes remained on Merton, but he said, “She isn’t innocent. I will—” His voice strained, and he swallowed. “I will never get those years back. I will never be able to forget.”

A sore ache bloomed over her heart. She blinked away a new tear. “Of course you won’t.” No one could ever forget their deepest hurts, only learn to better shoulder them.

Bacchus murmured, “We could take her to the authorities. But she won’t be able to confess.”

“She will if they know which questions to ask.” Raven stepped into the light, dry weeds crunching under his boots. Approaching Merton from behind, he put a hand on her shoulder, and a clear, sweet note rang out from the spell he cast. A strong note, a rich pitch—a master spell.

“What did you do?” Elsie whispered.

“I cursed her,” he said, and Elsie’s stomach tightened. “She can only speak the truth now.”

That gave Elsie pause. The song was similar to the truthseeking spell he’d used on her in Juniper Down.

“You want to take her to the police,” Bacchus guessed, “with a note containing incriminating questions. Anonymous, I presume.”

Raven merely nodded, his face stern.

Elsie took in a deep breath and let it all out at once. “I suppose it’s only fair. Perhaps you should write it, Raven. I think your handwriting will be the least easy to identify.”

“She’ll write it,” Ogden said, straightening. “I’ll guide her hand.”

Elsie looked at him, then lifted her gaze to Bacchus’s. His brow was resolute, but his eyes were sad. Elsie was sad, too, though this was the right thing to do. Still, not everything she’d said to Merton was a lie. They were similar, in so many ways. In another world, perhaps they could have been family.

“All right.” She rubbed her arms uneasily. “But make sure she confesses to everything. Including the control and framing of Master Phillips. We need to make this right.” She looked between them, a chill embracing her. “Oh God, Irene. Where is Irene?”

Ogden released his spell suddenly, and Merton startled. “Where am I?”

“Help me get Miss Prescott to the carriage.” Ogden gestured to Bacchus. “She needs a doctor.”

As the two men hurried back to the barn, Merton pulled her hand from Elsie’s—Elsie had forgotten she was holding it. “My dear,” she said, “I’m quite confused. Will you help me?”

Elsie gave her the best reassuring smile she could muster. “Of course.” She glanced to Raven. “We’ll get you to where you need to be.”