“He’s talkin’ nonsense, Hes. Don’t worry about it. Just help me get him up.”
Ethan felt someone grab one of his arms, but not the other.
“Molly, grab his other arm,” Osborne said. “Let’s put him back in that chair.”
“What did he mean, Father?”
“Now, Molly!”
A moment later, someone took hold of Ethan’s other arm, and once more he was lifted into the chair. He started to topple back onto the floor, but strong hands held him up.
“Gimme that rope.”
With some effort, Ethan managed to open his eyes. Osborne stood over him, tying him to the chair once more.
“Now, bind him,” the man said, when he had finished with the rope.
Molly turned to look at her sister, but Hester didn’t seem to have moved. She still held the pistol, though she appeared to have forgotten about it. She stared hard at her father, fear and disgust and rage chasing across her features.
“You told us it was nothing,” she said, her voice so low that Ethan had to resist the urge to lean forward to hear her better. She pointed at Ethan. “The first time he came to us, he said something about an attack on the Graystone, and you told us later it was nothing to worry about. Just something that the fleet commanders had made up to cover your escape.”
“He lied,” Ethan said.
Osborne had turned to face his daughter, but at this he whirled on Ethan again. He pressed the barrel of his gun against Ethan’s face, just below his bleeding eye, pushing so hard with it that he tipped Ethan’s head back.
“I swear to God, Kaille! Another word and I’ll blow a hole in your face!”
“I want to know what he meant, Father!”
“First you bind him, like I told you. We’ll talk when you’re done.”
Hester still didn’t move. At last Osborne dismissed her with a wave of his hand and turned to Molly.
“You’ll have to do it,” he said. “Quickly girl, before he tries more of his magick. Use the blood on his face.”
Molly gave Ethan a pained look, but nodded to her father. Ethan watched her, waiting. And as soon as she opened her mouth to speak the spell again—“Corpus alligare ex cruore evocatum.” Bind body, conjured from blood—he chanted a spell to himself, hoping that this once Reg would do what Ethan needed him to. “Teqimen ex cruore evocatum,” Ethan said in his mind. Warding, conjured from blood. He finished reciting his spell to himself just an instant before Molly finished speaking hers.
He felt the blood vanish from his face, sensed conjurings humming in the old worn wood of the shack. They felt powerful, but not so much so that anyone would guess that there had been two spells cast instead of one. And just as Molly’s bright yellow ghost appeared beside her, Reg materialized as well. He was behind both Osborne and Molly. Neither of them could have seen him. A smile flashed on his glowing face and he vanished again.
Ethan couldn’t be certain that Hester hadn’t seen the ghost, and he dared not look at her. He would have to trust that Hester was angry enough with her father, and suspicious enough of what he had done in recent days, to keep Ethan’s secret. He was supposed to be bound, and so he held himself still. But though he felt the leaden weight of Molly’s spell on his body—that same feeling of a heavy net that had come when Hester tried the binding spell outside—he knew that his warding had worked.
For several seconds no one spoke. Ethan could almost feel Hester weighing her choices, and he feared that despite the tension in the room, she would remain loyal to her father. But at last she said, “All right, he’s bound. Now tell us what happened to the Graystone.”
“Nothin’ happened to it,” Osborne said, turning away from her and walking to where Diver lay, still pale and unmoving. The man let out a small laugh and looked back at his daughters. “Looks like you saved this one after all. What a waste.”
“Why did Kaille ask you about the lives of those men?” Hester asked. “What did he mean by that?”
“Stupid girl! He’s tryin’ to confuse you, t’ turn you against me! Can’t you see that?”
Hester raised her pistol. “Don’t you dare call me stupid! And don’t lie to me anymore! I want to know the truth!”
Osborne stared at her, dropped his gaze to the weapon in her hand. Ethan thought he might strike her. Instead he began to laugh, which might have been worse. “No, Hes, you’re not stupid. But you don’t know a thing about pistols. That’s a single-shot flintlock you’ve got in your hand. And there’s nothin’ in it.” He gestured vaguely back at Diver. “The lead’s in him, isn’t it?”
Her face blanched, perhaps with the realization of what she had done in pointing the weapon at her father. She looked down at the pistol and sagged into the nearest chair.
“But fine,” Osborne went on, his voice eerily calm. “You want the truth. I’ll give you the truth. That spell you both did, the one that was supposed to make me look and feel like I was dead. It worked fine.” He laughed again. “It worked more than fine. It was remarkable. A thing of beauty. It made me look dead all right.” His laughter bubbled over once more, but he talked through it. “It made every man on the ship look dead. Imagine what it was like. The officers from those other ships come to the Graystone, and every man on board is lyin’ there, lookin’ like someone came along and poisoned the food or somethin’ of the sort.” He wiped away the tears of mirth that were now streaming from his eyes.
“My God,” Hester whispered, covering her face.
“You girls forgot what I told you ’bout the way spells work on water as opposed t’ on land. They’re stronger on water, remember? So your spell for me worked on every man on that ship.” Osborne laughed again, and shook his head. “Wish I’d seen their faces—all those officers.”
Ethan remembered his own revealing spell aboard the Graystone and how it worked on several of the soldiers instead of just the one. It seemed the same thing had happened to the sisters’ spell.
Molly stood by her father, gaping at him, her mouth open, a stricken look in her large, dark eyes. “I don’t understand,” she said. “The spell we used to wake you—”
With a visible effort, Osborne managed to control his laughter. Still, a grin lingered on his face. “Oh, that one worked just the way it was supposed to. We was on land by then, at Castle William. That one worked just fine.”
“Do you mean to say that we killed every man on that ship?” Hester said, her voice breaking on the last word.
The question appeared to sober her father. “No,” he said, sounding earnest. “Hes, no! Don’t you see? That’s the beauty of it all! Neither of you killed a soul. You cast your spell and did just what you was supposed t’ do. The king’s men are the ones what killed all those others!” He opened his hands, a smile on his face now, a look of wonder, like that of a man explaining to his children how caterpillars became butterflies. “I’m proof that you killed no one. They did it all! They burned them, or buried them, or dumped them in the sea! It was perfect! And it’s all on account of the two—”
“Shut up!” Hester screamed at him, clutching at her belly and doubling over. She stumbled to the door and yanked it open. An instant later Ethan heard her retching.
Molly cast a furtive look at her father, but the sound of her sister being ill seemed to overmaster her fear of Osborne. She ran out of the house. Ethan could hear her speaking in soothing tones to Hester, but after a few seconds of this, the other woman cut her off.
Osborne stared at the door. Ethan could see that he was bewildered by his daughters’ response to what he had told them. He thought that this might be his best chance to surprise the man, but before he could even decide what spell to cast, Osborne seemed to remember that he was there.
He raised his pistol again, his eyes narrowing. “You think this is your big chance, don’t you? You think my girls will help you now.” He shook his head. “They won’t. They’ll understand soon enough. It’s better this way. There’s riches waitin’ for us. You’ll see.” He put the barrel to Eth
an’s brow. “Or you won’t.”
Ethan closed his eyes, and was about to speak a spell that would shatter the man’s hand. But before he could cast, the two women entered the house once more, their footsteps heavy. Neither of them spoke.
“I’m sorry, Hes,” Osborne said. “I won’t laugh about it no more. I know you’re upset. I understand. Really.”
Ethan could see the women now without having to turn and give away his one advantage over Osborne.
“What were you going to do?” Hester asked, nodding toward Ethan. “Kill him here?”
“No,” her father said. He lowered the pistol once more. “That wouldn’t be smart. We need t’ do it somewhere else, far from here.”
Hester straightened. “Of course. We shouldn’t use that pistol, either. Someone might hear. It’s best done with a conjuring.”
Osborne beamed. “That’s my girl. You was always so clever, Hes. Like your ma.”
“And you’ll want us to do it—Molly and me—because our spells are stronger than yours. And we need to be sure. Kaille being a conjurer and all.”
“I suspect you’re right,” he said. “That’d be the best way. There’s the other one, too—Kaille’s friend. We should take care of both of them.”
Hester considered Diver. “Maybe we can put them in the cart, take them down to the Neck, or over to Mill Pond.”
“The pond’ll be better,” Osborne said. “That’s good thinkin’, Hes.”
“You’ll have to carry them for us. Molly and I aren’t strong enough.” She held out her hand to him, palm up.
Osborne frowned, unsure of what she was doing.
“The pistol,” Hester said. “I’ll hold it for you.”
He gave it to her without hesitation. Perhaps he had forgotten that a short time before she had turned the other weapon on him. Or maybe she had sounded so reasonable in these last few moments that he assumed her rage had spent itself.
It hadn’t. As soon as she closed her fingers around the wooden stock of the pistol, she leveled it at her father. Osborne tried to grab it back from her, but Hester jumped back beyond his reach. Molly screamed and threw herself at her sister just as the firearm went off with another flash of light and a deafening report.
Osborne dropped to one knee in front of Ethan, clutching his left arm. Blood flowed over his fingers and dripped to the floor.
“You stupid, ungrateful—!” He broke off, his teeth gritted, a snarl on his lips as he glared up at her.
Hester dropped the pistol and backed up to the wall, her eyes wide and fearful like those of a horse in a lightning storm, her cheeks bloodless. Osborne got to his feet, glanced down at his bleeding arm, and took a menacing step in Hester’s direction.
Ethan lashed out with his foot, catching Osborne just below the knee and sending him sprawling to the floor. Molly screamed. Ethan launched himself out of the chair and onto Osborne. He hadn’t noticed, though, that the man had pulled a knife from his belt. At the last instant Ethan had to twist to the side to avoid impaling himself on Osborne’s blade.
Osborne slashed at him with the knife, but Ethan managed to block the man’s arm with his own. He dug his fist into the bullet wound in Osborne’s arm and the man howled in pain.
“Remedium! Ex cruore evocatum!” Healing, conjured from blood!
“Molly, no!” Hester’s voice, piercing and frantic.
But it was too late. Ethan felt the spell, the pressure building in his leg. It was unfocused—she had put no blood on him. But she had conjured out of rage and fear and hatred, using a healing spell not as a balm, but as a weapon. And her casting was strong. He heard the bone in his leg snap. He roared, rolling off of Osborne and clutching at his thigh. He couldn’t breathe for the pain, and he barely noticed when Osborne got to his feet again. The thief kicked him in the head and Ethan pitched over onto his side.
“Good girl, Molly!” Osborne said. “That spell saved me.”
Looking down at Ethan once more, he reared back and dug the toe of his boot into Ethan’s gut. Ethan folded in on himself, retching, gasping for air.
He assumed that Osborne would slit his throat and turn his rage on Hester for shooting him. But it was Molly who rounded on her sister, eyes blazing, fists raised.
“Why did you do that?” she shrieked. “Why did you shoot him? He’s our father! You don’t shoot your father! You don’t! You just don’t!”
Hester cowered away from her sister, pressing herself against the wall. Her face was streaked with tears, and her chest heaved with every breath she took.
“I won’t kill for him again! Don’t you see what he’s turned us into? We’re his knife! His pistol! That’s all! And we killed every man on that ship!”
“No!” Molly said, shaking her head. “That wasn’t us! Father said so!”
Hester shook her head, swallowed. “He lied, Molly.”
“That’s enough outta both of you.” Osborne loomed over Ethan, his blade in hand. “I want him dead. Now.” He turned to his daughters. “Cast your spell.”
“No,” Hester said. “Kill him yourself.”
Blood had started to flow from Osborne’s arm again, replacing the blood Molly had used for her spell.
“Discuti!” Ethan muttered. “Ex verbasc—” The spell would have shattered Osborne’s leg, using the mullein leaves in his pocket as its source. But before he could finish it Osborne kicked him again, once in the head, and a second time in the gut.
Ethan vomited onto the floor.
“So you’ve got mullein in your pocket, do you, Kaille?”
He couldn’t answer and he couldn’t fight back when Osborne knelt beside him and began to fish through his pockets for the small pouch containing his precious leaves.
“Not much,” the man said. “But more than I had b’fore.” He grinned, turned back to the two women. “Like I said, I want him dead now. And his friend, too. No more games. No more of your foolishness, Hes. Do it, and let’s end this.”
Ethan tried to rouse himself, but Osborne placed his foot on Ethan’s throat, pressing down hard enough to cut off his breathing, but not enough to crush his windpipe. Ethan thrashed at the man, but he was too hurt, too addled. He hadn’t the strength to stop them.
Molly pulled out her knife. Hester flinched at the sight of her sister’s blade, but then drew hers as well. Her face was ashen. Molly’s outburst seemed to have snuffed out the fire within her. She cut herself. Molly did the same. Locking their gazes on each other, the women began to chant.
“Fini pulsum,” they said in unison. “Ex cruore evocatum.” Stop heartbeat, conjured from blood.
Power surged through the floor, the walls, Ethan’s body. He shut his eyes, waiting for the spell to take him. He didn’t realize what the women had done until Osborne made a small strangled noise in his throat. An instant later he gave a faint grunt.
“Father?” Molly’s voice. “Papa? Hester, what did you do?”
The pressure on Ethan’s neck eased, and the man fell backward to the floor, landing in a sitting position. Molly screamed again. Osborne looked up at the two women, his eyes bulging, his mouth open. He jerked once, twice, struggling to inhale. His lips had turned blue. He dropped his knife and clawed at his chest, then lifted his gaze to Hester and Molly once more as his hands stilled. Molly reached out to him, but Hester snatched her sister’s hand back, staring hard at her father. Osborne swayed, tipped over onto his side, and lay motionless, his dead eyes fixed on the floor at his daughters’ feet.
Chapter
TWENTY-THREE
Molly dropped to her father’s side, crying “Papa! Papa!” again and again. She struggled to pull him upright, but he was too heavy for her and at last she fell over him, sobbing and clutching at his shirt.
Ethan pushed himself up into a sitting position. His head spun, and his stomach ached where Osborne had kicked him. But all of that was nothing compared to the agony in his broken leg.
At his first movement, though, Molly’s head jerked up.
She glared at him for an instant, scrambled to her feet, and huddled by her sister.
“What do we do with him?”
“We let him go,” Hester said, her tone firm. “He’s here because of what we did to the Graystone. None of this is his fault.”
“But Father—”
“Don’t, Molly. You know what kind of man he was. Just as Mother knew. We should never have read that last letter he sent. We should have burned it with the others.”
“I wanted him back,” Molly said in a small voice. “I missed Mama, and I wanted him back.”
“I know.”
Molly began to cry again, and Hester put her arms around her sister and gathered her close.
Watching them, Ethan leaned forward and picked up Osborne’s knife from where it lay on the floor. He cut himself, glancing up at the sisters once more. Seeing that Hester was watching him, he faltered. But she closed her eyes and stroked her sister’s hair. Ethan took this as a sign that she wouldn’t try to stop him.
He put blood on his leg and spoke his spell. “Remedium ex cruore evocatum.” Healing, conjured from blood.
Molly started at the hum of power and turned to face him. But her tears still flowed and he could tell that she hadn’t the strength or inclination to stop him. He let his conjuring flow into his leg, sucking his breath through his teeth at the first painful touch of the healing spell, but breathing easier as it began to knit the bone back together.
He had to cut himself twice more to complete the healing, and by the time he had finished, he was sweating and his hands shook. At last he released the spell and struggled to his feet. Once more he turned to Hester, wondering whether she would try to keep him there.
But she was already watching him. “Go, Mister Kaille. Your friend is alive still, but he needs more than we were able to give him. Take the cart if you need it.”
“Thank you,” he said. “For letting us go, and also for saving our lives.”
She flinched at the words.
“You understand—” he began.
“Do what you have to do. You were hired to learn the truth about the Graystone. You and I both know what that means.”
Thieves' Quarry (The Thieftaker Chronicles) Page 30