Spellmaker

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.