Returning to the beginning of the volume, he scanned each yellowed, brittle page with more care. Outside, the sky darkened; eventually Ethan had to light additional candles. He found several references to warding spells, as well as to herbs that might be used to enhance a “witch’s” protection. To Janna’s credit, mullein, betony, and horehound were mentioned more often than any other herbs.
But Ethan reached the end of the book without finding anything more about conjurings intended specifically to prevent the borrowing or theft of magick by another speller.
“Veni ad me.” Come to me.
An instant later, Reg stood over him, gleaming balefully in the small room. Ethan opened the second book to the page on which borrowed spells were mentioned and held it up for the ghost to see.
“Have you heard of these conjurings?” he asked.
Reg scanned the page, his bushy eyebrows bunched. Looking at Ethan again, he nodded.
“This is what Ramsey is doing to me, isn’t it?”
The ghost hesitated, and when at last he nodded it was with some reluctance.
“Something similar, perhaps?”
Yes.
“Do you know how I can stop him from casting these spells? Is there a way to deny him use of my power?”
He knew from Reg’s forlorn expression that the ghost would shake his head.
“But this book-” He picked up the third text and riffled the pages until he found the correct one. “It mentions ‘precautions against such violation.’ That must mean that there are wardings I can put in place, spells I can cast to keep him from using me in this way.”
Reg opened his hands. I don’t know.
“Very well,” Ethan said. “Dimitto te.” I release you.
Once Reg was gone, he reached for the first book once more and began to read the volume more closely from the first page.
He stayed awake for much of the night and read through all three of Janna’s books. Though he found a few more pages on which borrowed spells were mentioned, most of these were passing references. He read nothing that told him how to protect himself from Ramsey. When at last he lay down to sleep, he was as frustrated as he had been before studying the texts, and only slightly more knowledgeable.
His sleep was fitful and he roused himself with first light so that once more he could pay a visit to the Paxton mansion. He followed the same circuitous route to the commissioner’s estate, but while he avoided the barracks this way, he did nothing to fool Ramsey. Even as he approached Paxton’s door, a spell growled in the earth beneath him. He knocked on the door, gazing back at the rope yard and then down the street toward Green’s Barracks as he did. But he saw neither soldiers nor journeymen. It almost seemed that the captain was toying with him, casting the spells for the sheer purpose of scaring Ethan. Reg had appeared beside him, but he spared Ethan not a glance. He, too, was watching for soldiers.
To Ethan’s relief, Paxton answered his knock before Ramsey could cast a second spell.
“Mister Kaille,” the commissioner said, clearly surprised to see Ethan on his doorstep once more. “I didn’t expect you today.”
The commissioner was dressed in a black silk coat and breeches. Belatedly Ethan realized that it was Sunday morning and that Paxton and his wife would be on their way to church before long.
“No, sir. Please forgive the intrusion.”
“Do you have news for me?”
“I believe I do. I was hoping I might come in and speak once more with your servant.”
Paxton’s expression darkened. “If you mean Louisa, I’m afraid that’s impossible. She’s gone.”
A wave of nausea crashed over Ethan. “Gone where?” he asked, though of course he knew what Paxton would say.
“I’ve no earthly idea. She stole away sometime during the night. When my wife and I awoke this morning, she had already gone and had taken all of her things. Her room is completely empty.”
“This is my fault,” Ethan said, removing his hat and raking clawed fingers through his hair.
“Your fault? What do you mean?”
He donned his hat once more and looked Paxton in the eye. “Louisa and Private Fleming were working together. Her tears yesterday were a ruse, as was her visit with her infirm parents. I believe she has the stolen items hidden in their home.”
“I’m deeply sorry to hear that,” Paxton said. “But in what way is this your fault.”
“I spoke to Fleming yesterday and wrung the truth from him. I should have called the sheriff straightaway, but I didn’t think that Fleming would desert, nor did I believe that Louisa would run off. I assumed that I would have this chance to confront her.”
Paxton’s frown had deepened. “I must tell you that I’m disappointed, Mister Kaille. Geoffrey Brower led me to believe that you were a skilled thieftaker. I expected better from you.”
“And you shall have it, sir. You have my word.”
“What will you do?”
“What is Louisa’s family name?”
“Allen. At least this is what she told me.”
“And where is her parents’ home?”
“She said it was in Medfield, but you have proved her false, Mister Kaille. Shouldn’t we assume that everything she told me was a lie?”
“Not necessarily, sir. Sometimes a succession of small truths can conceal a larger falsehood. And Fleming mentioned to me that her parents’ home was along the Middle Road.”
“I have little personal experience with such things and so have no choice but to place my trust in you again. But I do so reluctantly.”
“I understand, sir,” Ethan said, starting away from the door. “But I swear to you that your property will be found.”
Ethan didn’t wait for a reply, nor did he tarry by the rope yard, though he could see that once more Ramsey’s spell had drawn soldiers and journeymen into the ice-covered lane.
He left Hutchinson’s Street at its south end, and followed Cow Lane down to Summer Street. Soon, he stood again before the entrance to Sephira Pryce’s mansion. Afton opened the door this time, and glowered down at him.
“What do you want now?”
“I need to speak with Sephira.”
The brute set his jaw and Ethan thought he would refuse and send him away. But then he said, “Right then, wait here,” drawling the words. Though he closed the door, Ethan could hear him lumber through the house.
He pulled the door open again moments later and held out his hand. Ethan handed over his knife and his pouches of herbs. Sephira’s man eyed these dubiously, but gestured for Ethan to enter. After shutting the door once more, he led Ethan into the common room, where Sephira stood before a blazing fire. She wore a dress of dark blue satin, rather than her usual breeches and waistcoat. He had to admit that she looked even more beautiful than usual. But while her garb was different, the amused, somewhat mocking expression on her face was all too familiar. Nap, Gordon, and Mariz stood nearby, looking far more grim than she.
“Ethan. What a surprise. You’re starting to make a habit of this. Does your little friend with the tavern know how much time we’ve been spending together?”
“Good day, Sephira.”
“Have you come to speak with me, or with Mariz?”
“With you,” Ethan said. “I have a business proposition for you.”
She considered him briefly, then gestured toward the chair next to hers. Ethan removed his greatcoat and sat.
“A business proposition,” she repeated. “Explain yourself, and do it quickly, please; I was about to make my way to the meeting house.”
Of course; that would explain the dress. Ethan could hardly imagine Sephira attending church. He considered saying as much, but thought better of it.
“I was hired by Charles Paxton to retrieve some jewels that were pinched from his home.”
“Yes, I’d heard,” she said. “I hadn’t yet decided whether or not to let you keep that job. Paxton isn’t as wealthy as Josiah Wells, but he is a man of some means. I would have preferred that he come to me.”