“Looked like the demon’s head,” Stephano said.
The priest shook his own head impatiently and turned to Dag.
“That man who was here,” said Father Jacob. “The tall man. You saved him from the demons. I saw him join the Warlock who sent the wraith to kill Sir Ander. They both disappeared. Did you see which way they went?”
“Down that alley, Father,” said Dag, nodding with his head, while reloading his weapons by the lantern’s light. “Who were they, Father? Did they bring the demons here to kill you?”
“The tall man was not here to kill me, not this time. He was caught in the same ambush. As for the other-”
“The Warlock,” said Sir Ander grimly, walking over to them. He glanced at the smoking remains of the demons. “So the Warlock and the Sorceress are now in league with the Devil. I’m not surprised.”
“I am,” said Father Jacob. “What surprises me is that they know Henry Wallace-”
“Wallace!” Stephano had been listening and he gave a start. “What was that you said? What about Henry Wallace?”
Father Jacob regarded Stephano with interest. “Do you know him?”
“Do you mean Sir Henry Wallace? The Sir Henry Wallace? Are you saying he was here?” Stephano demanded.
“He was the tall man whose life your friend saved.”
Stephano cast Dag a glance.
“How was I to know?” Dag demanded.
“You’re certain it was him, Father?” asked Stephano.
“He is one person I am not likely to forget,” said Father Jacob dryly.
“I came to Westfirth in search of Wallace,” said Stephano. “It is vital that I find him! Can you tell me where he might have gone?”
Father Jacob rested his hand on Stephano’s forearm. “Listen to me, Captain. You are a brave man. You are a fine shot and an expert swordsman. And I say to you that if you see Sir Henry Wallace walking toward you, turn and run as fast as you can. Wallace is a dangerous, a deadly, an implacable foe. Don’t cross him. Don’t meddle in his affairs. If you came here to find him, leave immediately and pray you are not too late. Pray you are gone before he finds you.”
Stephano was startled by the priest’s intensity.
“I thank you, Father,” said Stephano, uncomfortable. “I will take your warning to heart. But it is important that I find this man.”
Father Jacob glanced at Sir Ander. Stephano knew what they were thinking, that he was here on business of the countess. He could almost hear his mother’s name resonating between the two of them, and he smoldered with anger.
“If you know of any way to locate him, Father,” Stephano said coldly. “I would take it as a great favor. And if Wallace does kill me, I absolve you of any responsibility.”
Dag looked shocked. Even Rodrigo was mildly taken aback. Sir Ander only smiled, however, and said something quietly to Father Jacob.
“I see,” said Father Jacob. “I suppose you are right.” He turned to Stephano. “I do not know where Sir Henry is and even if I did, I doubt he will be there long. He knows I recognized him. I pose a serious threat to him and whatever nefarious scheme he is plotting.”
Seeing Stephano look downcast, Father Jacob smiled; albeit gravely. “If you insist, I can devise a means for you to track him. Wallace was carrying a leather satchel that was destroyed during the fight. He seemed very attached to it. Hand me that light.”
He took the lantern from Rodrigo and flashed it around on the cobblestones. “Pick up those bits of burnt leather, will you, Monsieur de Villeneuve? Sir Ander, if you would fetch me the remains of that pistol I see lying over there. The gun that blew up after the green fire hit it. I will make use of it.”
“For what?” Stephano asked.
“I am going to make a compass,” said Father Jacob.
“I know what direction north is, Father,” said Stephano. “We’re wasting time-”
“No, we’re not,” said Rodrigo excitedly. “I know what he’s doing. Why do you need the pistol, Father?”
“The presence of other constructs might interfere with my magic. The demon’s green fire erased the constructs that had been laid upon the gun.”
“I didn’t think erasing constructs was possible, Father,” said Rodrigo coolly. He squatted down to get a better view. “Aren’t you talking heresy?”
The priest glanced at him. “I see that we will have to build a special dungeon at the Arcanum to hold that mouth of yours, Monsieur.”
Rodrigo grinned and watched as Father Jacob took up a bit of scorched leather and placed it on the flattened piece of metal. He touched the leather with his finger three times, at three different points. The priest set no construct or sigil, yet all three points began to glow with a soft golden light. Father Jacob drew a line connecting the three points to form a triangle of light.
While Father Jacob was constructing the compass, Brother Barnaby came over to ask if he was needed. If not, he wanted to go back to the houseboat with Gythe and Miri.
“Mademoiselle Gythe heard voices again, Father,” said Brother Barnaby, deeply troubled. “And… I have been hearing them, too.”
Father Jacob paused a moment in his work to look at the monk. He did not ask any questions, but gave him permission to accompany the sisters. “Give Sir Ander the script containing the demon remains.”
Brother Barnaby handed over the script with the mysterious object inside.
“Dag,” said Stephano, seeing his friend gritting his teeth against the pain of his burns, “Go with Miri and Gythe and the brother. Keep your musket handy.”
“And have Miri see to your back,” Rodrigo said loudly. “I hear that yellow goo is excellent for burns.”
Dag cast Rodrigo a baleful glance, then went off with Brother Barnaby. Miri had her arm around Gythe. She walked slowly by her sister’s side, clinging to Miri and holding fast to Brother Barnaby’s hand. Dag walked behind, his musket in his hand. The clocks in the church steeples began to strike seven times.
“Sir Ander, could you find me a sliver of metal from the pistol?” Father Jacob asked. “Just a small piece will do.”
The knight quickly complied and handed his friend the metal splinter. Father Jacob wrapped the splinter in the bit of leather from the satchel and held it directly above the glowing triangle. A thin stream of light rose from each point and touched the splinter, which began to glow brightly and shifted its direction.
“The priest could also use part of the fabric from Sir Henry’s coat for this spell,” Rodrigo was explaining to Stephano. “Anything that the person handled or wore on his body. The ‘needle’ makes the connection using latent magical energies-”
“Of course it does,” said Stephano impatiently. “The question is, will it lead us to this man?”
“It will,” said Father Jacob. “But the connection fades quickly, so make haste.”
Father Jacob handed the device to the fascinated Rodrigo. Following the compass’ point, the four men walked swiftly to the end of the lane and found a trail of blood. Stephano had his pistol in hand, keeping watch for trouble. When they reached the alleyway, they came to a sudden halt.
The light of the lantern shone on the body of a young woman, no more than fifteen or sixteen, lying dead on the street. Her throat was cut. Her blood ran in gruesome rivulets among the cobblestones. Rodrigo gasped and covered his mouth and turned away. Stephano gazed down in shock and horror.
“The wraith!” Sir Ander exclaimed.
“Poor child. The Warlock used her blood for his conjuration.” Father Jacob sighed deeply. “May God in His mercy take her to her rest.”
He knelt beside the body and reached out his hand to close the staring eyes.
“Did Henry Wallace do this?” Stephano asked, shaken.
“No, Captain,” said Father Jacob, rising to his feet. His face was drawn. He seemed to have aged in the space of moments. “This is dark magic, blood magic-the work of the young man, the Warlock. He killed this girl, then drank her blood, and used her life force to create the wraith that attacked Sir Ander.”
Stephano seemed stunned. “I can’t believe that anyone… Is that even possible?”