Spellmaker

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.”

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.