Dead Man's Reach (41 page)

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By the time the sun was up and shining through Sephira's windows, Nap, Gordon, and Afton had arrived at the mansion. So, too, had several of Sephira's other toughs, men with whom Ethan had but limited contact. Sephira had returned to the dining room, dressed as usual in black breeches, a white silk shirt, and a waistcoat that fit her with unnerving snugness.

Nap and the two brutes Ethan knew so well could not mask their surprise at finding him already in the house, supping with Sephira at a table laden with breads, cheeses, eggs, and sweet pastries. Nap and Gordon exchanged a quick look; Nap even raised an eyebrow. Ethan suppressed a grin. Let the men believe what they would. For this day, at least, he and Sephira were allies, as they had been when last Ramsey cast his spells in Boston.

“We need to locate Ramsey and his men more precisely,” Sephira said, sipping coffee and watching as Ethan filled his plate yet again. “You can find him with your witchery, can't you?”

“I can,” Ethan said, “but I won't.”

“Why on earth not?”

Ethan shifted his gaze to Mariz. While Sephira would be more than willing to help Ethan kill Ramsey, she would be less eager to follow Ethan into the coming battle. She trusted in her own leadership, and no one else's, and Ethan assumed that this was merely the first in what would be a series of questions regarding his decisions. This day would be easier if Mariz would explain at least some of the choices Ethan made.

Sephira's man appeared to understand.

“The conjuring of which you speak,
Senhora
, is a finding spell. It will allow us to locate Ramsey, but it will also alert Ramsey to the fact that we are coming. He will feel the conjuring and thus prepare himself for our arrival.”

“He doesn't think we have any idea of where he is,” Ethan said. “For the first time since all this began, we have an advantage, however small it might be. I won't squander it for convenience.”

Sephira didn't mask her displeasure at having her suggestion dismissed, but she acquiesced with a curt nod.

Ethan ate what remained of his breakfast, and pushed back from her table, feeling considerably better for having eaten a decent meal. He could have done with a few hours' slumber, but he didn't dare delay their confrontation with Ramsey any longer.

Sephira stood as well. “Have my carriage brought around to the front of the house,” she said to Afton.

The big man lumbered toward the back entrance.

“The two of you will ride with me,” she said to Ethan and Mariz. “The others will follow us.”

“Aye, all right. But heed me, Sephira. Ramsey's men are not the enemy. Mariz and I will try first to put them to sleep. Failing that, you and your men will have no choice but to fight them. If some try to escape, let them go. If you can overcome them with blades and fists, do so. Only resort to pistols if nothing else works.”

“Are you truly trying to instruct me in the art of fighting?” she asked, her voice cold, the look in her eyes as hard as sapphires.

“I'm telling you not to kill them unless they leave you no other choice.”

“Do you expect Ramsey's men to be so gentle? Will he instruct them to spare our lives? Or will he direct them to do murder, and will he do a bit of killing himself, as he did when Nigel died?”

It was the first time either of them had spoken to the other of Nigel Billings, the man in her employ whom Ramsey had killed with a spell, since the yellow-haired man's funeral the previous summer. Ethan had no answer for her righteous rage.

“We go to fight,” she said. “If I tell my men to hold back, I put their lives at risk. Even you should understand that.”

“We're better than he is, Sephira. We should fight that way.”

She shook her head. “I'm not.”

“Yes, you are,” he said, surprising himself and her. “You're better than Ramsey. He doesn't scruple to kill, even if his victims have done nothing wrong other than get in his way. You're … different…”

Her smile was thin, and yet somehow genuine. “Saying it doesn't make it so. I'm more like Ramsey than either you or I would care to admit. I'm helping you today because I've sworn to avenge Nigel's death. And you're allowing me to come with you because you need me, and you need Mariz. But let's not lie to each other. I've killed for no more reason than you assigned to Ramsey's crimes. And I will again. You of all people know this. Tomorrow, when Ramsey is dead, and you and I are no longer allies, you'll hate me once more, as you did before you knew that Ramsey was back in Boston.”

“And you'll hate me.”

Her smile this time was reflexive and cruel. “No, I won't, Ethan. You're not important enough to me to inspire such passion one way or another.”

Ethan laughed, but his mirth was short-lived; he and Sephira were left eyeing one another.

“You can try your sleep spell,” she said. “And my men will use pistols as a last resort. But we fight as we always fight, and woe to Ramsey's men if they dare stand against us.”

It was more than Ethan had expected from her, and as much as he could reasonably ask. She was right: If her men fought timidly, afraid to strike a killing blow, they would imperil their own lives.

“Fair enough.”

They left the mansion a few minutes later, Sephira wearing an elegant black cape over her street clothes. She and Ethan sat in the carriage opposite Mariz and Nap, while Gordon perched on the box and took up the reins. Behind the carriage, Afton stood with ten more men, all of them armed with blades. Ethan had no doubt that they all carried flintlocks as well, but for now they kept them concealed.

The day had dawned clear and cold, though not as biting as recent mornings had been. The sun on Sephira's snow-covered gardens was almost blinding, and a flock of jays, their plumage a match for the cloudless sky, scolded from a bare birch tree at the front of the house. It was too fine a morning for what they were about to do.

They followed Summer Street to Winter, and Winter to the edge of the Common. Here, they turned and skirted the open land, rolling by the Granary Burying Ground and past King's Chapel onto Treamount Street and then Sudbury, so that they passed in front of Kannice's tavern. Sephira watched Ethan as they went by the Dowser, curiosity in her cold eyes. Ethan gazed back at her, impassive. But he did wonder what Kannice would have thought had she seen him in such company.

A short distance beyond the tavern door, they turned onto Hillier's Lane and then Green Lane, which took them through the heart of New Boston. The men walking behind the carriage had been speaking in low voices, but they fell silent now. Ethan felt his apprehension rising and saw that Sephira's expression had turned grim. She stared out the carriage window, the muscles in her jaw bunched.

“Near here, Mariz?” Ethan asked.

“Farther, I think. Closer to the point.”

They reached the corner of Leveret's Street and turned due north. Ethan pushed open the carriage door and hopped out onto the lane. He slipped on the ice but righted himself without falling. Mariz joined him, and then Sephira and Nap.

“I take it we're walking now,” Sephira said, her voice dry.

“I'm not sure what we're looking for,” Ethan said, shielding his eyes against the glare with an open hand, and scanning the road. “But I assume that wherever Ramsey is hiding will be guarded by at least one man.”

The northern end of New Boston sloped gently to the water's edge, affording them a view of the streets and buildings to the north. Near Barton's Point and Berry's Shipyard sat several rope yards and their warehouses. Ethan paused and pointed, looking at Mariz.

“There?” Ethan asked.

“I am not certain. Perhaps.”

They walked on, trailed by the carriage, now empty, and Sephira's gang of toughs.

“He may not have men guarding whatever building he is in,” Mariz said. “It is possible he believes detection spells are more reliable.”

It was a fair point. Detection spells were conjurings that worked much as did a spider's web: They only took effect when someone or something came in contact with a primary spell. Once disturbed, this first conjuring tripped a second. Ramsey had used them against Ethan and his allies during their last encounter.

Sephira regarded them, fists on her hips. “So, it's possible that we could be attacked by witchery at any moment, without warning. Is that right?”

“Aye,” Ethan said.

“Whatever your faults, Ethan, outings with you are never dull.”

They walked on past Lee's Shipyard. No one spoke, but the turning of carriage wheels and the footsteps of more than a dozen on ice-crusted snow were loud enough to alert all to their approach. Ethan felt exposed on the open road; it was only a matter of time before Ramsey's men spotted them.

Ethan kept his eyes trained on the rope yard warehouses. He saw nothing there that made him believe one of them held Ramsey and his crew, but still his gaze was drawn to the buildings. When they reached the lane, Ethan turned westward.

“Why are you turning here?” Mariz asked.

“I don't know. I sense that Ramsey is in one of those warehouses. If you think he's elsewhere, say so. Otherwise I'm going this way.”

Mariz shared a glance with Sephira and shrugged. They followed him.

The street ended at Wiltshire; Ethan turned to the north once more. And as the others joined him on the broader lane, he caught a glimpse at last of what he had been searching for. The door to one of the warehouses swung open and then closed again with a sharp crack that reached his ears a second later.

“Did you see that?” Ethan asked, pointing again.

“I heard something,” Mariz said. “That is all.”

“Someone entered that warehouse.”

Sephira gave a doubtful look. “And you think it was Ramsey?”

“I don't know. Whoever it was couldn't be seen. I believe he was under a concealment spell.”

“So, Ramsey knows now that we are coming.” Mariz removed his spectacles and wiped the lenses with a kerchief. “Perhaps it is time to use a spell.”

“What sort?” Ethan asked.

“I would like to know if he has cast detection spells. During our previous encounter, he nearly killed us all with them.”

“You know such a spell?” Sephira asked.

“We do now,” Ethan answered. “Each of us made a point of learning it after our last battle.” To Mariz he said, “As you say, they know we're here; there's no longer any reason not to cast it.”

Sephira's man shrugged off his coat and pushed up his sleeve. Ethan did the same.

“I can cast the spell, Kaille.”

“We'll cast together,” Ethan said. “As we did the last time we fought him. Our spells will be stronger.”

Mariz nodded.

“Ensnarements of magick,” Ethan said. “That would be the wording, I think.”

“Yes, that is how I learned it as well.”

Taking care to match their movements, they cut their forearms and then said together, “
Pateant omnes insidiae magicae, ex cruore evocatum.
” Let all ensnarements of magick be unveiled, conjured from blood.

The spell roared in the street, spreading from where they stood as would a finding spell used to locate a conjurer.

An instant later, Sephira let out a small gasp.

Mere feet in front of them, a thin wall of aqua power shimmered faintly in the bright daylight. Several yards past this barrier stood another. A third wavered in the sun closer to the warehouse, and still another awaited them just before the warehouse door. As the spell he and Mariz had cast continued to wash over New Boston, other walls appeared blocking other routes to the warehouse. There were even barriers shimmering over the water. He could see no way to approach the building without setting off at least three conjurings.

“There must be a dozen of them,” Sephira said. “How can that be? These streets aren't as crowded as those in other parts of Boston, but they're not deserted, either.”

“I would imagine,” Ethan said, “that they only work if a conjurer disturbs the primary spell. If Mariz touches that barrier, or if I do, the second spell will be made active. But you and your men can walk through them at will. Ramsey doesn't fear you.”

“He should.”

Ethan didn't answer, and Sephira, despite her brave words, gave no indication that she intended to go on without him.

“We should ward them,” Ethan said, after considering the detection spells for some time.

Sephira shook her head. Ethan knew that she disliked relying on “witchery” for anything, much less the safety of herself and her men. “I thought your wardings didn't work against Ramsey's spells,” she said.

“My wardings can stop spells such as these. But they haven't worked against whatever conjuring he is using to gain access to my power. It was for those spells that Mariz cast the warding in your home.”

“Fine,” she said, sounding impatient. “Get on with it.”

Together, Ethan and Mariz placed a warding spell on their entire company—themselves, as well as Sephira and her other men. Ethan hoped that it would hold against the detection spells Ramsey had cast.

Uncle Reg had appeared beside Mariz's spectral guide and was regarding Sephira with unconcealed hostility. Even if Ethan was willing to trust her for this day, his ghost remained wary.

I want you to stay with me.
He didn't speak the words aloud, but Reg perceived them anyway. The ghost's gaze found his and he nodded his assent.

“You and your men should wait here,” Ethan said to Sephira. “Mariz and I will go ahead. When we've dealt with all the spells, you can join us.”

“That's not what we agreed to back at my home.”

“I didn't know then how many detection spells Ramsey would cast. Let me do this, Sephira. You can't help us with these spells, but you can be killed by them.”