Chronicles of Steele: Raven 3: Episode 3

by Pauline Creeden

  Monroe pushed his blade back into its sheath. “From here to Grandview is about an hour’s walk, so we’ve got nearly an hour and a half before we must leave.”

  Jack yawned. “A little more, actually. It only takes fifteen minutes by carriage, and I have hired one to pick us up here by nine.”

  Rupert looked suddenly very tired. “So that’s two and a half hours to kill.”

  Monroe pulled an apple from under his rags and took a big bite. He spoke with his mouth full and chewed. “I suggest you three get some sleep as well, then.”

  Jack narrowed his eyes. “Are you offering to watch? Aren’t you tired as well, old man?”

  Monroe stopped mid chew and smiled. His salt and pepper beard had become wet on the chin from the apple. “I slept last night in the shed with Nikki. When she started the barking, it woke me. I’m far from completely rested, but somehow I feel I’m better off than the three of you.” He nodded toward the boat and said, “Or her.”

  Jack yawned, disinclined to argue. “Speaking of Nikki. Where is she?”

  Monroe grinned. “I left her with a friend I have in town. A dog like her wouldn’t quite fit into this hunt now that we’re out of the woods.”

  Jack nodded. He sat on the rocky shore next to the boat and leaned against the peeling paint. The other two guardsmen did the same. He pulled off his waistcoat and balled it up. When he felt this tired, he knew that he could sleep in almost any position. The last vestiges of the sun formed an amber glow through the murky clouds on the horizon. On the other side of the sky, the stars began making an appearance. Empty smokestacks pointed to the sky, their flames extinguished for the day.

  The wind picked up, and for a moment, Jack wish he’d had his jacket to cover up with. But the moment he closed his eyes, sleep overtook him.

  An error is not a mistake unless nothing is learned from it.

  If one learns to keep from erring again, it becomes an experience.

  THE SCREECH OF scraping metal woke Raven with a start. She gasped and jumped up, losing her balance and catching herself when the boat rocked. Without the gaslight streetlamps casting their eerie glow, the shore would have been black as pitch. A brown hardwood carriage came to a stop on the road directly in front of the boat. The shift in the boat caused the three guardsmen to wake and stand as well. Grant didn’t wake her, like he said he would.

  “Taxi?” The coachman tipped his tweed hat as he pulled the mechanical horse to a stop.

  Raven winced. She’d never liked the metal horses in the first place, and after being with Darius for nearly a month, she’d begun avoiding them more.

  Grant rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he lifted a hand toward the coach. “Yes, I ordered the cab. Give us a moment.”

  The coachman nodded and dismounted from the driver’s seat.

  He pulled the waistcoat over his shoulders and looked to his men who were getting themselves organized and straightened. Monroe stood at the driver and made polite conversation. Grant stepped up to Raven and offered her a hand out of the boat. Slightly dizzy and disoriented, she still held the jacket folded over her arms. When she turned to put it back in the boat, he put a hand on her shoulder. “I think we’ll wear the full outfits tonight. The nobles in Ipswich don’t have a problem with guardsmen from New Haven.”

  Raven nodded and asked, “Why didn’t you wake me?”

  He smiled. “Monroe claimed to have gotten some sleep in the shed before the Wood Witch attempted escape. He offered to keep watch.”

  The wind blew a chill through the air, and the sky looked black with a foreign glow. Only a few stars were visible through the gaslight of the city reflected in the hazy clouds. Raven couldn’t imagine zeppelin-living high society over the city of Ipswich.

  Raven set a hand on Grant’s shoulder. She hated to ask a favor or for special treatment, but she needed to get out of her dress. “Could I have a moment alone in the carriage?”

  Grant raised his eyebrows but nodded.

  She smiled and hopped into the carriage. It wasn’t that she really needed a place to change, as she already wore her change of clothes under the travelling dress. Modesty wouldn’t allow her to pull it over her head and embarrass the group. The dress weighed her down, and she felt freedom in her black breeches and button top. After a moment’s breath, she hopped back out of the closed coach. She rolled the dress up, threw it into the bow of the boat and pulled the crossbow and sword from under it. She finally felt like herself.

  The five of them loaded into the carriage. Raven sat between Monroe and Colton. At least she didn’t sit next to Captain Grant. The thought of them in such close proximity made her excited and uncomfortable at the same time. She didn’t like the feeling.

  Over two bridges and a short stint through a mile of hilly countryside, they arrived in Grandview. The coachman opened the door and they piled out. Monroe helped Raven from the step and she blinked hard. Each of the small mansions had a zeppelin tethered to the ground at a low altitude. She shook her head and marveled at the stupidity. Never tell a noble they can’t do anything. They will try all the harder to prove you wrong.

  Snow covered the ground all about them, though only about ankle deep. The pure white powder suggested that Grandview lay upwind of Ipswich. Grant rubbed his hands together in the sudden cold. “We’re a bit early, which is good. We’ll start toward the woman’s manor, Earl’s Head.”

  The carriage pulled away, leaving them on the flat, even stones of Grandview’s street. They started up the hill toward the grey house. The snow on street and walk had been cleared. Up and down the street, lamps lit the walkway, though no one seemed out and about.

  Colton fastened the buttons on his coat and asked, “So what is the plan?”

  Together, the four men nearly huddled together to strategize. Raven strolled just behind them, keeping an ear tuned to their conversation while she scanned the area for anything unusual. Really, the first thing they needed to do was get out of the open, in her opinion.

  Grant continued to walk at an even stride up the hill. “I suggest we spread out and surround the house. Stay in hiding. Colton and I will approach the house to determine if the witch is more than punctual. The rest of you will keep your distance.”

  Rupert nodded, his eyes on his captain. “What do you suggest we do if the witch arrives?”

  “Capture her. She doesn’t need to see the child first. We can make any arrangements necessary after the woman is caught.”

  Raven huffed a little louder than she meant to, attracting every man’s attention.

  Grant raised his eyebrows. “Do you have something you’d like to add?”

  She swallowed, her eyes darting among the four of them. “I’ve confronted this woman twice and became debilitated both times.”

  The men nodded and Grant’s eyes widened with recognition.

  Raven continued, pointing toward Grant. “You were incapacitated, as well. My question is how do you suggest we capture this woman?”

  The men nodded.

  Monroe cleared his throat. “It is my understanding the witch is most powerful in her own element. Her house. The woods. These are places from which she draws energy and stores it.”

  It made sense. A general consensus murmured through the group.

  “Here, out in the open, the woman would be at her weakest. And proximity makes a difference as well.” Monroe pulled a small crossbow from under his rags. “With so many of us keeping our distance from her, I don’t believe she’d find it as easy to enervate us all.”

  “A much better plan,” Raven said with a smile, unsnapping the crossbow from her back.

  They reached the front of the house. Colton and Grant nodded and started up the walkway. Monroe headed to the west of the house, Rupert headed across the street to bring up the rear, and Raven stayed to the east. The top of the snow had iced over and crunched under her feet. She checked her chronometer as she walked toward a copse of trees. The hands and numbers on the face of her watch had been
painted with luminescence and glowed in the darkness. It was nearly nine-thirty and still no sign of the witch.

  She hunched down in the thicket, keeping an eye on her watch. Grant came around to her side of the house, peeking in the windows as he went. When he finished checking through all of them on the first floor, he started for the woods to Raven’s right. He called out as he went in a low voice. “Raven?”

  Annoyed, Raven rolled her eyes and snapped a twig between her fingers to get the lummox’s attention.

  He whipped his head toward her and smiled as he crunched through the snow. She watched the brightly lit area around the house and up the street as far as she could. Rupert was easy for her to spot in the woods on the other side of the road. His dark skin should have made it easier for him to hide, but the well-lit neighborhood didn’t leave many shadows except in the trees. Across from her, on the other side of the house, Raven was happy she could see no sign of Monroe until he made a movement for Colton to join him.

  Dawn and dusk were the worst times for seeing in the dark. The lights in the neighborhood of Grandview made it most like twilight. Her eyes strained against the falling night, but it wasn’t dim enough for her night vision goggles. A carriage turned up the road, pulled by a single, white, flesh horse.

  The clip clop of the horse’s hooves on the flat stone as it pulled the plain open cart up the hill echoed through silent neighborhood. Grant crouched next to her behind a bush. “It’s the witch. She really is timely—it’s exactly nine-thirty.”

  Raven pursed her lips, and motioned for the captain to stay quiet with a nod. Her hand sought the right bolt among her arrows. An alchemist friend of her father’s had fashioned a wide, grappling net out of spider wire and attached it to one of her bolts. She pulled the net-bolt into her crossbow and set it against the trigger. It fit into the bow and would begin to spread the moment it left her crossbow. Her jaw tightened. For now, she didn’t want the witch dead.

  The small carriage pulled to a stop, and the coachman hopped down to open the door for the passenger. A hunched woman took his hand and wrapped a shawl over her head. Raven began counting the woman’s steps. In order for the grappling net’s full effect, she needed the woman standing in a certain five foot section of the walkway to the house.

  Raven deliberated her breathing, willing herself to remain calm and trust her calculations. Grant shifted position at her side and broke her concentration. She shot out an arm without looking and grabbed him by the shoulder. She whispered a single word both for herself and for him. “Wait.”

  He settled back into his crouch and tsked. Her eyes searched the area and found Rupert striding across the lawn of the house across the street, making a line directly for the witch. Still hunched over with her shawl wrapped around her head, the woman didn’t see the guardsman yet, but the carriage driver started and stepped in front of Rupert. The coachman’s voice was gruff and commanding—it bounced off the walls of the homes just as the horses’ hooves had on the flat stone. “What? Now see here, sir.”

  The witch stopped and began to turn. Raven bit her lip and bolted from the woods. The sword on her back caught on something and unsnapped. It fell to the snow. She didn’t hesitate, but continued, focused on her target. If the witch determined what was happening because of Rupert’s presence, she’d never come into range of the grappling net. Raven needed to bring the net to her.

  She leapt across the snow, making quick measurements in her head keeping her aim trained on the old woman. The witch’s back remained to Raven as she rushed across the snow. Just as the witch turned completely toward Rupert, she began removing the shawl. The moment before she turned in a way so she saw an attacker in her periphery, Raven pulled the trigger on her crossbow.

  Jack gasped as the reaper next to him proved again her incredible speed. Just when he’d gotten used to her being only a woman, she proved to be so much more. Her hair flew behind her as she held the crossbow in front of her impossibly still while her legs pumped wildly. The gaslight cast a halo glowing about her head.

  After a moment’s distraction, Jack leapt to his feet. He started after her through the crunching snow. Across the other side of the walkway, Monroe and Colton broke from the woods. An arrow whistled through the air and a black net unfurled toward the witch. The witch had only enough time to turn her head in Raven’s direction before the net wrapped around her.

  No matter how much the woman struggled, the net ensnared her further. The coachman ran for them yelling, “What’s this? What are you doing to that woman? Cease at once!”

  Rupert grabbed the man and spun him around. “This is an arrest. I’m not wearing this jacket for warmth alone. Pay attention, man.”

  The coachman blinked hard twice at the people surrounding the witch. He shook his head and pushed his hands dismissively toward the woman in the net. “I don’t need this. You’re on your own, madam.”

  A muffled whining came from the woman whose scarf covered her face once more. After mounting the open cart, the coachman turned his horse around on the street and started away. Rupert joined Monroe and Colton on the other side of the witch. Raven shot an arm in Jack’s direction and took a step backward. She nodded across the other side of the walkway and called out to the others. “Stand back, everyone.”

  She pulled one of the sticks from her hair and threw it to the walkway in front of the witch. Glass shattered, and green smoke sidled up from the ground where the stick landed. Half the curls from Raven’s bun fell out as she backed quickly with her shirtsleeve covering her face. Monroe did the same and motioned to the two guardsmen with him. Jack lifted his arm to his face and stepped back.

  The witch’s struggle lasted a moment longer, and the green gas dispersed in the wind. Raven dropped her hand and approached. Jack followed her lead, and Monroe sauntered up with a smile. “Excellent job, Raven.”

  Raven shook her head, her eyes wide. “I couldn’t think of any other way to contain the witch.”

  “Truly good thinking.” Monroe knelt to untangle the unconscious witch from the grappling net. His grin grew wider, and he shook his head in amazement. “Spider wire, too.”

  Jack stared at the other glass tube the female reaper had in her hair. He flushed. Did that contain the same two chemicals? Now he knew what she meant when she said she was never weaponless. She snapped the crossbow to her back once more and pulled the other glass tube from her hair. Black curls cascaded around her shoulders and hid her face. She pulled them into a quick twirl and put the remaining tube in parallel to the ground. Pale blue liquid sloshed in one portion of glass, yellow in the other.

  Raven bent to help, because Monroe continued to struggle a bit with the net. Rupert pulled a knife from his side. “Should we just cut the blasted thing?”

  “No!” Raven shot the man a look of ice. “It’s reusable.”

  Monroe chuckled. “You should have let him try, Raven. Spider wire is nearly impossible to cut with anything but a diamond-tipped blade.”

  Rupert shoved his knife back into the sheath at his side. He folded his arms across his chest and took a step back. His eyes met Jack's with an unspoken malice. Rupert hated the feeling of being useless and held back as much as Jack. But Jack had become so enamored with watching Raven’s techniques and talents that he’d enjoyed taking an exhibitor’s seat.

  After another moment’s struggle, the net pulled from the witch’s face, dragging the shawl with it. Raven gasped, and Monroe’s eyes grew wide. Jack peered over the reaper’s shoulder and found chestnut colored hair with only a few grey streaks. Rupert bent and pushed the woman onto her back. It was not the face of the Wood Witch.

  Things rarely go according to plan.

  Be flexible and willing to change at all times.

  RAVEN GROWLED, THROWING her hands into the air, and marched toward the woods. Not the right woman? The adrenaline still coursed through her veins, and her fight reflex made her want to punch a tree.

  Grant trotted to her and grabbed her gently b
y the arm. “Are you all right?”

  She ripped her arm from him and snapped. “I’m fine. Smashing.”

  As she strode for the woods, she shoved the folded net back into the grappling bolt she’d used. When the net didn’t want return quickly to its bolt, she wanted to throw the whole thing on the ground and have a tantrum like a five-year-old. She closed her eyes and took a shuddering breath and whispered her father’s teaching to herself. “Rage never accomplishes anything. Mistakes are made more often fueled by anger. No one thinks clearly when angry.”

  “That’s true,” Grant said from her side.

  Raven started. She didn’t realize he had still been following her. The snow crunched under her boots as she quickened her step toward the woods. The wind picked up and chilled her. She reached the thicket and found the place she’d been kneeling. The red corded sword remained in the brush, tangled in a vine. Raven grasped the hilt and pulled it cleanly from the dried branches. After checking the blade in the gaslight, she snapped it to her back once more.

  “Did you know Colton’s father gave him that sword when he left home?” Grant leaned against a tree, his eyes hidden in the shadow across the top half of his face.

  Raven shrugged. “Are you attempting to make me feel guilty?”

  He shook his head, the corners of his lips inching up into a smile. “No, I’m not. But does it make any difference to you when you know your victims more personally?”

  Her jaw clamped, the rage bubbling up in her chest again. She spoke through her teeth, “Victims? Did I kill Colton?”

  He shook his head and pushed off from the tree, following her as she started back toward the walkway and the others. “I didn’t mean victims, but I couldn’t conceive of a better word.”

  She quickened her step and made him jog to keep up. The captured woman sat on the stone walkway, awake. Monroe and Colton knelt with her in conversation. Rupert stood over them, a stern look on his face, as always. The woman showed nary a sign of disorientation, and Monroe wrapped the shawl around her shoulders as he pulled her to her feet. Colton spotted them and started over to Grant. “Captain, the woman is willing to cooperate. I suggest we go inside and tend to the young girl’s needs as we question the witch.”