“Solomon Wodge is a crazed killer who wants everyone who even dabbles in magic dead.”
“Well, that proves you must be mistaken, doesn’t it?” Thomas asked gently. “Mr. Ermine seemed very interested in magic. He had all those books.”
“Oh my God, the books,” she said, finally unclutching Thomas’ jacket and pacing in a small circle. She was grateful now that they were in a somewhat deserted area, or she would have surely gathered a crowd with her behavior. “That huge old book was Ashford’s. It was in his family for generations. No one is supposed to be able to touch it without being a member of his bloodline or have express permission. How do you explain that?”
“Are you sure it’s the same book?” Farrah asked.
“Yes! It’s the same exact book I used to reopen the portal in the house. And I’m sure that’s Wodge, too. The last time I saw him he was pointing a gun at me. I’ll never forget him.”
“Let’s get back to the house,” Thomas said, leading her toward the more crowded main street where they could hire a ride. “You don’t look well, Miss Jacobs.”
“I don’t feel well,” she snapped. After a moment of digging in her heels, she relented, wanting to put space between them and Wodge. “But I’m not making this up. You need to believe me on this or we’re all dead.”
“Very well, we can discuss it more at home, after some strong tea and a meal.”
His soothing responses were serving to upset her more but she knew continuing to argue the point when she was so discombobulated wouldn’t help her cause. When they were back at the house, she’d lay it all out for them again, make them believe her.
The hopefulness and sense of safety she’d felt a few hours before was gone. She normally felt somewhat secure in her ability to protect herself, being well trained in self-defense, but this wasn’t a case where a punch in the nose and a solid kick would do any good.
Wodge was in this time, either pretending to be someone he wasn’t or lost in some sort of hex that affected his memory. She didn’t know which theory scared her more. One thing she knew for certain was it was too big of a risk to put themselves in front of him again, which meant that using the spell was out.
The thought she might be trapped here, never seeing Ashford again, and in close proximity to Solomon Wodge, made her weak, and she let Thomas tuck her arm under his, following him blindly.
Chapter 12
Ashford had found it, he was sure of it. The spell that would bring Matilda home. He hoisted the huge book, closing his finger in between the pages as he tried to wrestle it under his arm. With a yelp of pain, he dropped it back onto his desk, leaving it open to the page he’d found. He then placed his inkwell on top of it, not trusting the thing to not turn or close by itself. He’d been scouring that damn book for days and he wasn’t about to lose the answer through some magical tomfoolery.
He raced to the front drawing room that got the good morning light, knowing that was where Serena had set up camp with her legion of dogs, and it was likely Kostya would be with her, fawning lovingly over her.
He’d thought at first their marriage might make him uncomfortable. Kostya had been married to his twin sister after all, but surprisingly, their happiness made him happy. He’d learned that life was far too fleeting not to cling to what you loved. He should have clung harder to Matilda instead of being his imperious, pompous self. Well, as soon as she returned, he’d make it up to her for the rest of their lives.
He burst into the sitting room, and while the midday sun shone through the lace curtains, casting a warm glow on the polished wood tables, the atmosphere was decidedly chilly.
“No, Kostya, I really don’t care to. If you’re that interested in Lady Bagswell’s daughter’s botanical drawings, then by all means, please do go.”
“I only thought you’d enjoy—”
They turned after he burst through the door, not quick enough to back out so they could finish their argument. Serena arranged her face to look more civil and Kostya looked embarrassed.
“Ah, sorry to interrupt,” he said. “I could come back.” He prayed they wouldn’t send him away. He didn’t think he could be polite and actually go. He needed Kostya to look at the spell and tell him he’d indeed found the way to bring Matilda home.
“Don’t be ridiculous. I was about to adjourn to the garden,” Serena said. “It’s quite stuffy in here.”
“Let me have someone come open the windows,” Ashford jumped to offer.
“You’ll get a draft,” Kostya said over him, causing her to glare first at her husband, then Ashford.
“Please stop hovering over me, I’m perfectly well,” she said, almost in tears. With an angry huff, she gathered her workbasket and snapped her fingers for the dogs to follow her as she breezed from the room.
“I’m terribly sorry,” Ashford repeated, almost counting in his head until he could suggest Kostya come with him. “Do you need to go after her?”
“She’d bite my head off if I tried,” Kostya said sadly. “I’m terribly worried about her. She hasn’t been herself, and I don’t think she’s sleeping well. She barely ate a crumb at breakfast.”
“Shall I send for a physician?” Ashford already reached for the bell pull, worried for Serena himself now. “Perhaps something with the baby?”
“Yes, let’s do, though she’ll have my head for it I’m sure.”
“It seems she’s determined to harm your head in some way no matter what you do, so better to be on the safe side.”
Ashford had the servant send for a physician, and before the girl’s heels were out of the room, he blurted out his request to see what he’d found.
“I’m extremely excited about it,” he said apologetically. “I’m sure it won’t take you but a moment to look at it.”
“Nonsense, we can take all the time we need. Serena doesn’t want me anywhere near her right now and I don’t think I should upset her any more than she already is. I’d like to believe this is something to do with being with child, but I’m worried it’s more. When she doesn’t think I’m looking at her, she sometimes looks like she’s in terrible pain, though she won’t admit a thing when I ask her about it.”
Ashford felt awful, and wondered if the spell could wait. Matilda would have told him the spell should wait, and that Serena’s health was the priority. He wanted her back so badly, he tossed his scruples aside and all but dragged Kostya to his study, eager for affirmation that he’d found the way to bring her home.
The book was the way he left it and he swept the inkwell aside, stabbing triumphantly at the words with his finger. “To bring a loved one home,” he said. “This should do the trick, no?”
Kostya elbowed him aside and sat in the chair, reading and rereading it, shaking his head. “No, this is all wrong, I’m afraid. First of all, the loved one has to want to come home.”
“Of course she does,” Ashford said, refraining with all his might from hitting the desk. “It was a tiny row, well, not tiny exactly, but before we came back to this time, we visited her family in California— that’s a state in America in her time. Our mothers died when we were young so we’ve never had an adult relationship with them. I can assure you the bond was quite strong with Matilda and her mother. I think she might have wanted to speak with her, perhaps complain about me a bit. But I’m certain she still loves me. She has to.”
“Well, that’s all well and good, but the second thing that’s wrong with this spell is it’s only for distance, not time, and you’d have to know where the person was.”
Ashford could have cried, or thrown something. He did neither, only sank into another chair, refusing to feel defeated. “That’s the daftest thing I’ve ever heard,” he complained. “If the person wants to come home and they know how to get there, why don’t they hire a carriage? Why make a spell for such a thing in the first place?”
“Witches,” Kostya commiserated. “There’s no understanding them. They do things just because they can. It can be very dang
erous, that sort of power.”
Ashford had another bout of guilt. He knew Kostya wanted nothing more to do with his own powers. After his grandmother had been defeated and his people were free from her reign of terror, he’d vowed to live naturally, shunning all magic. Looking at the book must have made his skin crawl, and Ashford was grateful for his help. He most definitely needed it.
Kostya flipped through the pages, not really looking at them, seeming lost in thought. “What you want to look for is scrying spells, I think.”
“Scrying?” Ashford asked, feeling out of his element once more. He should have been able to understand all this, it was in his blood after all, but except for a few random instances, all of them when Matilda was present, he was hopeless at casting spells.
“They’re usually done with water, or … other liquids. You can conjure up an actual image of someone, and see what they’re doing. My grandmother was a master at them. She could see anyone anywhere, and any time. If you could see where Tilly is, perhaps we can get an idea of when she is. It’s a start.”
A start. He’d been studying tirelessly for weeks and he was back at the start. Remain positive, he told himself. It’s what Matilda would do. Yes, a fresh start was just what he needed.
“If you didn’t have your heart set on seeing Lady Bagswell’s botanical drawings, I’d appreciate it if you could help me identify these scrying spells.”
Kostya snorted. “It’s her daughter’s drawings, and they’re meant to be quite good, but no, I was only trying to get Serena to take some exercise. I’ll help you find one so you know what to look for, then you can begin practicing.”
“Me? Do it myself? No, you’d better be the one to do it.”
Kostya sighed. “I want to help you as much as I can, Julian, but you know that I can’t. I mustn’t.”
Ashford knew his brother-in-law’s feelings but still pushed the matter. “There’s no possible way you could ever be like your grandmother,” he said.
“Perhaps not,” Kostya said. “But perhaps I could. We both saw what magical influences did to Camilla. They destroyed her. I lost both my daughter and my wife to magic, but I was given another chance. I won’t risk Serena and this baby.”
Having to recall the horrors that he’d watched his twin sister go through, due to her obsession with gaining more power and her thirst for revenge against Kostya’s evil family, made Ashford wince. He couldn’t ask Kostya to risk his new family, and he had seen how magic had turned his lovely, laughing sister into a murderous fiend. She would have killed both him and Kostya, and Matilda as well, if Kostya hadn’t stepped forward and done the unthinkable— shoot his own wife to save their lives. He sat silently while Kostya continued slowly turning pages, looking for a scrying spell.
“I’ve seen you do it, Julian. You can do it again,” he said, taking Ashford’s silence as self-doubt. Which he was full of.
“That was only when Matilda was near. That mad Liam Wodge thinks she’s a catalyst.”
“I know exactly what he thinks, and it’s codswallop. Tilly told me herself you were able to light a candle or some such when she wasn’t in the room.”
“Yes, but it nearly knocked me over it took so much concentration, and it only happened when I thought of her.”
“Well, that’s all you’ve been doing these past weeks, isn’t it?” Kostya asked, looking up from what looked like a drawing of an erupting volcano. “Thinking of Tilly? Use that, and you’ll find it in you. It’s your birthright, and your family has far less history of evil-doing than mine. Well, this hex notwithstanding. Goodness, whoever thought of this one had a grudge against someone.” He rushed past the volcano page and settled back in his seat. “Why don’t you ring for some refreshment? This will probably take a while.”
***
Serena fidgeted on the bench, scowling as a breeze made her shiver. She’d hurried out without her shawl and though the sun was bright, the air was cool and the shade of the pear tree she sat under blocked her from any warm rays. The dogs were huddling in the folds of her skirt, and for the first time, their neediness pricked her nerves. It was all she could do to keep from kicking poor Felix, and with a gasp at her dark thought, heaved herself up and began to pace, trying to get warm.
She’d snapped irritably at Kostya, and somewhere deep down she felt bad about it, but she was mostly irritated at him for hovering over her. Every minute he spoke to her was a minute she couldn’t concentrate on the spells in the book. It was as if they had become part of her consciousness, the words and pictures swirling about even when she wasn’t looking at it. And how she wanted to be looking at it.
It rankled her that Ashford was always in his study, poring over it. He had visitors after all, shouldn’t he be offering to take them about town? She could claim a headache and beg off, and have several luxurious hours of peace to take in the heady knowledge.
It was becoming a thirst she couldn’t quench just by sneaking downstairs in the middle of the night, and claiming a headache wouldn’t be a lie. She rubbed her temples and got back under the shade of the trees, angry even at the sun all of a sudden, for hurting her tired eyes.
A servant came out with a thick wool shawl for her, and she wanted to fling it at the girl, then stamp her foot and holler at Kostya for interfering again. Instead she took the shawl and nodded a curt thanks. These thoughtful little acts used to delight her, knowing that Kostya was thinking of her, but now all she wanted was to be left alone. With that book.
The baby kicked her hard under her ribs and she grabbed the nearest trunk to keep from doubling over at the sharp stab, expecting ten servants and Kostya to come running out to see that she was all right, but she was allowed to suffer alone, at least for the moment. She’d hovered outside the sitting room door for a moment, paranoid about what Ashford wanted, afraid they had new and more secrets, and left in disgust when she heard they were going to ring for the physician.
She hoped the headache would go away before he arrived, she wasn’t sure she could fool him into thinking all was well. She knew she needed sleep, but she couldn’t keep herself away from the book at nights. Sleep wouldn’t come until she’d read her fill, soaking it all in. Nothing frightening had happened since that first time, but she still fell into the book, as she’d taken to thinking of it, and the wonders she saw and felt kept her going back for more.
If only she could shake this headache, she was sure she could get a nap, then perhaps the physician would leave without bothering her, and she’d be well rested for when she could finally get back into Ashford’s study that night.
Another voice, the tiny voice of reason that kept trying to make itself heard, whispered to her that she should leave off looking at the book altogether. There was a reason Kostya didn’t want her near it, after all.
“I bloody wish he’d tell me,” she muttered to the dogs.
It would be all his fault if anything went wrong. A simple answer or two from him and she wouldn’t feel the need to sneak around behind his back. It was only a book for goodness’ sake. Nothing would go wrong. She felt better after justifying herself to her conscience, shutting up the wee prig for a while longer.
The baby kicked, as if in complete agreement.
Chapter 13
Tilly was holed up in the portal room, insisting she wanted to stay in there. If it opened and accepted her, she was going in it without a backward glance. Any place, even the time of screams, as she thought of 1644, couldn’t scare her as much as being within walking distance of Wodge.
She pulled the fluffy shawl tighter around herself as the portal sprang to life for the third time since she’d hidden out in here, refusing all the solicitous offers of food and only wanting to be alone to think. Without much hope, she hurried off the bed and stood in the corner, the temperature dropping alarmingly. She got the beginnings of a headache and, excited it was going to work, opened her mouth to holler for Thomas and Farrah.
They were firmly entrenched in her stupid idea of trying
the spell, but she knew that Thomas at least wouldn’t let her go through alone. She didn’t want to go through alone either, but if she couldn’t make them listen to reason, she’d have to.
Just as suddenly as it opened, it closed. She no longer felt the slight pressure in her temples and she shrugged out of the shawl as the room warmed again. Frustrated, she threw herself back onto the bed and punched the hard-packed feather pillows.
Why did it let her through at some times and not others? And why was it opening if it wasn’t taking anyone? She got the queasy thought that it was taking people from other times, people like Farrah who would be trapped. She made a mental note to ask Thomas if he thought the portal opened every time at once, but only worked at certain points.
Had she been lucky that it let her in at the precise moment when Emma let her in the room, or had she been more desperate then, concentrated more? She felt plenty desperate now, but maybe she was too frazzled, not concentrating enough on where she wanted to go. She sat up straighter, thinking with all her might and energy about 1814 and Ashford. She pictured every piece of furniture as she remembered it and every servant’s face. Most of all she pictured Ashford, with his arms outstretched to her. Nothing.
She grunted mirthlessly. Maybe it was creating a new schedule for itself. Ashford was going to love that. He’d have no way to rescue all the people the beastly thing might be letting through, and it would be her fault. A knock at the door tore her from her self-recrimination and before she could call out to tell them she wanted to be left alone, Farrah opened the door and peeked around the jamb.
“Just a word?” she asked, already halfway into the room. She looked nervously at the portal corner and asked if it had opened again recently.
“Three times since we’ve been back, but it wouldn’t allow me through,” Tilly answered listlessly.
“If we can get that spell you told us about to work, we won’t need to worry about it,” she said, getting cozy in a chair, as if she was ready to settle in for a nice long chat. “Don’t get me wrong, that thing got me out of a really tight spot, maybe even saved my life, so I’m grateful to it, but everything Thomas has told me about it kind of spooked me to want to go into it again, if you know what I mean.”
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