“I didn’t realize that my life was subject to your whim,” Ethan said.
In an instant, her expression changed to a sneer. “Then you’re a greater fool than I thought. The life of every man, woman, and child in this city is subject to my whim.”
Ethan wanted to challenge her on this. Surely Sephira didn’t mean to imply that even officers of the Crown were within her reach. But he held his tongue. If she did wield such power, over even the king’s men, Ethan wasn’t certain he wanted to know about it.
“I’ll ask it as a question this time,” Sephira went on a moment later. “Have you been hired by Abner Berson in the matter of his daughter’s murder?”
“Yes, I have,” Ethan said. “Actually, that reminds me: Can you account for your whereabouts last night?”
Pryce rolled her eyes and nodded to one of the men behind Ethan.
A fist to the temple sent Ethan sprawling to the floor again and knocked over the chair. One of the men kicked him in the stomach; another kicked him in the small of the back. A wave of nausea crashed over him and once more he could barely manage to draw breath.
“Get him up,” Sephira said.
One of the toughs righted his chair, and the others lifted him off the floor and dumped him back into it, none too gently. Ethan hung his head, gasping for air, his elbows resting on his knees. He could feel Pryce watching him.
“Don’t make me do that again,” she said.
“You know he hired me, Sephira,” Ethan managed to say. “You’ve known it all along. What’s all this about?”
“What do you think it’s about?”
“I think you don’t like it when wealthy men come to me. You don’t mind me working for the likes of Ezra Corbett, because he’s hardly worth your time, but when someone like Berson hires me you feel like I’m taking money out of your purse.”
Sephira smiled, and the entire room seemed to get colder. “You see? You can be clever when you want to be.”
“You don’t want this job, Sephira. Believe me you don’t.”
“Because she was killed with witchery?”
Ethan stared back at her.
“Yes,” she said, “I knew that, too.”
“Do you know who killed her?”
She shook her head, reclining on the bed once more, like some woman from a prisoner’s dream. “I’m not sure I’d tell you if I did, but as it happens, I’ve no idea.”
Something occurred to him in that moment, but he kept it to himself. He would have time to satisfy his curiosity later in the day, provided he survived this charming interview.
“I’ve been happy to let you have the jobs involving witchcraft,” she told him, “because until now it hasn’t cost me much to do so. But that changed when Berson hired you.”
“Do you know much about conjuring, Sephira?”
“I know enough to have taken your knife from you as soon as you entered the room. You need blood, or something of the sort, to attack me with anything more than an elemental spell. And I know enough not to be afraid of elemental conjurings. Those are illusion spells. They can’t really hurt me.” Her smile this time was fleeting, though no less icy. “How am I doing so far?”
“Fairly well,” Ethan said. “But you can’t conjure, can you?”
By now, no answer would have surprised him. Still, Ethan knew a moment of profound relief when Sephira shook her head and said, “No, I can’t.”
“Then you know as well as I do, that you can’t hope to find the person who murdered Jennifer Berson without getting yourself killed. That’s the reason her father came to me.”
“Yes, it probably is.”
“So then what are we doing here, Sephira?”
“We’re making sure that you understand just that. Witchcraft is the only reason Berson hired you instead of me. And witchcraft is the only reason I’m allowing you to keep the job. The Ezra Corbetts of the world are yours. The Abner Bersons belong to me.”
Ethan eyed the woman another moment, then shook his head and let out a small laugh.
She sat up abruptly, her expression deadly serious. “You think I’m joking?”
“I know you’re not. I just find it hard to believe you’ve gone to all this trouble because you’re worried I’m taking jobs that you think should be yours.”
“Well, believe it, Ethan. I’ve tolerated you working in Boston because there are certain jobs I would rather not take on. The last thing I need is to fail a few important clients and ruin my reputation, all because some idiot conjurer has taken to thieving. In some small way I need you, so I let you work at the fringes of my trade. But make no mistake: You work in this city-you live and breathe in this city-because I allow it.”
Sephira glanced past him again, which gave Ethan at least some warning that another blow was coming. Not that it helped much. One of Pryce’s men grabbed his chair from behind and pulled it out from under him, so that Ethan fell face-first to the floor. Two others lifted him and pinned his arms to his sides, and Yellow-hair resumed the beating. This time Sephira let them have their fun for what felt like an eternity before finally calling them off. Yellow-hair drove one last punch into Ethan’s side before the other two released him, leaving him to crumple to the floor.
Every inch of Ethan’s body hurt, and he could feel blood flowing freely from his nose, his split lip, and more cuts on his face than he could count. He didn’t try to move, not even when he felt one of the men rifling through his pockets.
“Here it is,” the man said.
Ethan heard the ring of coins, and knew that they had found Berson’s money pouch.
“Found these, too.”
More coins. Those would have been the shillings Corbett had given to him.
“Take it all,” Sephira said, standing over him. “You’ll make more, won’t you, Ethan?”
“Sure,” Ethan said, the word coming out as a whisper. “What’s a few pounds between friends?”
“Well said. You know, Ethan,” she went on, though Ethan just wished the woman would shut up and go away. “You need me as much as I need you. More really, though you don’t know it.”
“Would you care to tell me why?”
“Not really.”
“You know, I don’t need my knife to cast,” Ethan said. “There’s blood on my face. I could speak a spell that would kill all four of you.”
“Actually,” Sephira said, “I was just thinking the same thing.”
Ethan heard something clatter on the floor next to his head. Opening his eyes, he saw his blade lying beside him.
“But we both know that you’re not going to do that,” she went on. “It hasn’t been that long since you were a prisoner in Barbados, or wherever it was. And I imagine those memories fade rather slowly.”
“Many people know I’m a conjurer.”
“I’m sure. But it’s one thing for people to know that, or to hear rumors of a few small spells cast in the capture of a thief. It’s quite another for you to use your witchery to kill a person, especially someone like me. They’d have you in shackles faster than you could say ‘God save the king.’ Or maybe they’d just hang you. Don’t you agree?”
Ethan gave no answer.
Sephira laughed again. “Nothing to say? Very well, then. Good-bye, Ethan. I hope you find the girl’s killer. It would be unfortunate if you mucked it up.”
He heard them leave, listened as they descended the creaking stairway. But even after they were gone, he simply lay there, his eyes closed, waiting for the pain to subside.
Chapter Six
“ Ethan? Ethan, y’all right?”
The voice reached him from far away, as from a distant passing ship on still waters.
“Ethan?”
But as soon as he felt someone touch his shoulder, his hand shot up of its own volition and grabbed the speaker’s wrist. He heard a small gasp and, opening his eyes, saw poor Henry kneeling beside him, staring wide-eyed at Ethan’s hand. Ethan let go of him and let his arm fall back to his side.
“Sorry, Henry,” he muttered.
“Godth, Ethan!” the cooper lisped. “What happened to ya?”
Ethan forced himself up off the floor into a sitting position. His head spun a bit, but less than he had feared it might. Still, his body ached as it hadn’t since his days laboring on the plantation; he wondered if Yellow-hair and his friends had broken a few of his ribs.