D. Jackson - A Plunder of Souls

He heard the click of a boot on wood, but only realized when she started speaking that Sephira had gotten up from the table and was standing over him.

“You’ve gone too far this time, Ethan. I’m tempted to kill you where you lie and have them dump your body on the Common, or in the mudflats. You should know better, but of course, I’m continually amazed by your foolishness.”

He could barely reply. “All this trouble … for a pair of … of dueling pistols?”

For several seconds, she said nothing. Then, “You just don’t learn, do you?”

He felt himself lifted again, knew the beating was about to resume.

“Sephira, wait!”

“Are you going to stop this nonsense?” she asked, her tone mild.

“I truly don’t know what this is about. I thought it was the pistols. I was wrong. But I’m at a loss as to what else it could be.”

She stared at him, shaking her head. “You brought this on yourself,” she said. To Nigel, she said, “Kill him.”

Ignis ex cruore evocatus! he said within his mind. Fire, conjured from blood!

The blood vanished from his face, and Nigel’s coat burst into flames.

Gordon and the others rushed to smother the fire. Ethan stood his ground, making no attempt to flee. Mariz remained beside him.

The toughs extinguished the flames in mere seconds. Nigel scrambled to his feet, his clothes still smoking, and pressed the barrel of his pistol against Ethan’s chest so forcefully that Ethan stumbled back a step.

“You bloody bastard!”

Ethan ignored him, keeping his gaze fixed on Sephira. “I don’t know what this is about,” he said. “If you’re really going to let him kill me, the least you can do is first tell me why.”

“You insist on playing these games with me.”

“This is not a game, Sephira; this is my life. And I swear to you on the life of Kannice Lester, I don’t know what this is about.”

“It’s about me killin’ you!” Nigel said with a snarl. “Finally, after all these years!”

But he didn’t pull the trigger. Rather, he looked back at Sephira, awaiting her orders. And it seemed that Ethan’s oath reached her.

“Not yet,” she said.

Nigel sulked like an overgrown boy denied his favorite toy. He lowered the pistol. A second later, seemingly as an afterthought, he smacked Ethan’s head with an open hand. Ethan reeled; he would have fallen had Mariz not held him up.

“That’s for ruinin’ my coat,” Yellow-hair growled.

“You don’t know why I brought you here?” Sephira asked.

“That’s what I’ve been telling you. I thought you were still angry with me for giving you Salter’s old shoes instead of the dueling pistols.”

“I am still angry with you for that,” she said. “But you’re here for a far more serious transgression.”

“And I’m telling you that I can’t think of anything else I might have done.”

Even as he said the words, he heard in his mind the echo of his conversation with Adams and the others. Were the two encounters related?

“You mean to tell me that you haven’t been to the warehouses of Alexander Rowan or Sebastian Wise?”

“Rowan?” Ethan said. “You’re working for Alexander Rowan?”

“So, you do know him?”

“Yes. I was at his house last night.”

Sephira’s smile could have frozen the harbor solid. “I know you were. Why do you think you’re here now?”

“I didn’t know that you were working for him.”

“So if you had, you wouldn’t have taken his money?” she asked, her voice spiraling upward. “You wouldn’t have interfered in my business? You wouldn’t have made him think that I had-?” She clamped her mouth shut, and looked at Nigel. Ethan expected to hear her repeat the order to kill him.

“He didn’t give me any money-not a penny-and I’m not working for him,” Ethan said, keeping his voice level. “I’m working for the congregation of King’s Chapel, of which he is a member. I’m inquiring into a series of grave desecrations and robberies that include the burial site of his wife.”

“Grave robberies,” she said, sounding doubtful.

“That’s right. Resurrectionists, most likely, since they took the head and right hand of each corpse.”

She returned to her seat at the table and took a long drink of wine. When she spoke again, she sounded more composed.

“And what about his warehouse? When did you go there?”

“I haven’t been. Not once.”

“You see, Ethan, that’s where you disappoint me. You take so much care in crafting a wild story about resurrectionists, and then you tell a lie that no one could possibly believe.”

“You’ve known me for a long time, Sephira. And while you might think me a fool, you must know that I’m not so stupid as to lie to you in your house, surrounded by your men, with a pistol aimed at my head. So maybe you should tell me what’s happened. If this involves Mister Rowan, it’s possible that we can help each other.” He chanced a grin, though it hurt his jaw and lip. “You can always kill me later.”

She looked away, chuckling. “Sit,” she said, gesturing at the chair to her right. “Get him a glass of wine,” she said to Mariz.

Ethan sat, and Mariz placed a goblet of Madeira in front of him. He took a long drink, managing to dribble just a bit of it over his swollen lip. Sephira frowned at him.

“Can’t you heal that?” she asked.

“I will later. Tell me what this is about.”

“I’ve been hired by Rowan, Wise, and a few of their friends, to protect their warehouses. I have men there now.”

“Their warehouses,” Ethan said, more to himself than to her. “Why would…?” It dawned on him. “They’re not honoring the non-importation agreements, are they?”

“No,” she said. “They’re not. And they have been threatened repeatedly. Last night, not long before you arrived at the Rowan house, the warehouses of Rowan and Wise were attacked. Most of their goods were destroyed.”

Ethan had heard of similar actions being taken against other merchants who had Tory leanings. Many merchants in Boston, and throughout the rest of the American colonies, had expressed their dissatisfaction with Parliament’s policies by refusing to import goods from England. Many, but not all. And those who violated the non-importation agreements not only weakened the boycott of English goods, but also profited at the expense of those who honored it. They were among the most reviled men in the city. Even someone like Rowan, who was wealthy and otherwise well-respected, could not escape the wrath of Whig sympathizers.

“I can understand why you’re angry,” Ethan said. “I’m sure Rowan won’t be pleased when he finds out. But why would you think that I had a hand in the destruction of his goods? What possible reason-?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” she asked. “To discredit me. To make me look incompetent, so that he’ll turn to you for protection.”

“Sephira, I-”

“The goods were destroyed with magick!” she said, spitting the words at him. “You can deny it all you like, but Mariz here is certain that it was witchery that did all the damage.”

Of course. This was the reason the Sons of Liberty had summoned him. Sephira and Adams both thought that he was responsible for the damage done to the merchants’ warehouses. The difference was, Adams and his allies wished to congratulate him and enlist him in their cause; Sephira wanted to murder him.

Ethan turned to the other conjurer.

“What the senhora is telling you is true,” Mariz said. “The damage was done with conjurings.”

“Did you use a revela potestatem spell?” Ethan asked.

Mariz shook his head. “No. The senhora thought there was no need. She has believed all along that you are responsible.”