D. Jackson - A Plunder of Souls

Once Ramsey was gone, and Ethan was sure that the captain would not double back and follow him, he hurried to the Walters home. This was his fault. He had said too much to Ramsey the night before, and now the captain knew who Patience was and where she was buried. Ethan owed it to her, and to Darcy and Ruth, to do all he could to protect her from Ramsey’s power.

Darcy probably would not be at home-he often worked in the market at Faneuil Hall-but Ruth would be.

He was sweating and limping by the time he reached the small home, but he wasted no time approaching the door and knocking. Ruth opened the door. She held the babe in her arms, and her face looked even paler and more pinched than it had the last time Ethan saw her.

“Ethan,” she said, sounding surprised.

“Forgive me for disturbing you, Ruth. But I need to see Patience again.”

“But she doesn’t come until nightfall.”

“I think I can summon her, and I believe I have the best chance of succeeding if I do it here.”

“What’s happened?” she asked, shifting the babe to her other arm.

“It’s nothing. Just a question I forgot to ask the other night.”

She nodded and stepped aside so that he could enter. Once he was inside she closed the door and sat in a rocking chair near a window. “I’ll wait out here,” she said.

“Of course.”

Before he could leave the small common room, she said, “You know, as frightened as I am of Mother’s shade, I’m more scared by far of not knowing what all this means and what might happen next.”

He exhaled, faced her again. “I apologize for being less than honest with you,” he said. “There is a man, a conjurer, who is using spells to control the shades of the recently dead. As far as I know, he has yet to control Patience. But I said something to him-something foolish-and now he knows of her, both that she died not long ago, and that she was a conjurer. I believe he means to control her, too. I wish to warn her, and to see if somehow we can thwart his plans.”

“How does he control them?”

“Ruth-”

“He mutilates the bodies. Doesn’t he?” Her eyes were so filled with fear and despair that it made his chest ache. “I overheard some of what you and Darcy discussed that day you came.”

“Yes, that’s right,” Ethan said. “I don’t know if I can prevent it, but this is my fault, and I have to try.”

“I don’t think Darcy would blame you, nor would Patience. But I understand.”

He held her gaze for another moment before making his way back to Patience’s bedroom. Once there, he called in Latin for Uncle Reg.

“I know you don’t like it when I summon the dead,” Ethan said. “But in this case I have to. You know why?”

Reg nodded.

Ethan pulled out the pouch of mullein and removed nine leaves, the same number he had used the year before when he cast similar spells. He hoped that the conjuring would work; he didn’t wish to waste so much of the herb. He also knew that this spell wouldn’t be quite the same as those he cast previously to summon conjurers. Usually he had to summon them from the realm of the dead. But Patience had yet to reach that realm. In theory, at least, this spell should have been easier.

“Are you ready?” Ethan asked.

Again, the ghost nodded.

“ Provoco te, Patience Walters, ex verbasco evocatum. ” I summon thee, Patience Walters, conjured from mullein.

The pulse of power was like the pealing of some great bell. It shook the house; Ethan felt the hum of it in his chest, and knew that Ramsey would feel it as well.

“Let him,” Ethan muttered.

He looked to Reg for some sign that the casting had worked, and inhaled sharply. Patience had come. She stood beside the old warrior, still glowing with that same greenish color. She didn’t appear to be angry, as Ethan had feared she might. But her expression was grim, her eyes bright and fixed on him.

“Forgive me,” he said to the shade. “I wouldn’t have disturbed you without cause.” He glanced at Reg. “Does she understand me?”

The warrior nodded once more.

Ethan started to tell her of the burying ground desecrations and the number of shades already haunting homes throughout the city, but he hadn’t gotten far before the shade raised a hand to stop him and nodded.

“She knows already?” Ethan asked Reg.

Another nod. Yes.

Ethan wasn’t sure whether to be alarmed or reassured. “The man responsible is a conjurer named Ramsey. He and I share some history, and without meaning to, I let him know that you died recently, and that you were a conjurer. I’m afraid … I think he means to disturb your grave and add you to his legion of shades. I’m so sorry, Patience. It was careless of me.”

She shook her head: a gesture of absolution.

“I want to know if there is some way you can protect yourself, to keep him from controlling you.”

It took a moment for his words to reach her; it seemed he was speaking to her across a great distance. But at last the shade frowned, and gave a small shrug that was so like the shrugs Patience gave in life it brought a smile to Ethan’s lips.

“I miss you, Patience.”

A pause, and a smile in return.

“I believe it’s the symbol that he cuts into the cadavers that gives him control over the shades,” Ethan said. “But I don’t know how it works, or what kind of conjuring to use to overcome his power.”

He shook his head, realizing that this wasn’t doing any good, and that he had disturbed the shade of his friend for no reason. But his thoughts were churning. When he spoke of the symbol with Ramsey, the captain had tapped a finger on his temple and said, “It’s one of my own.”

Could that mean the symbol itself had no inherent power, that its potency lay in whatever meaning Ramsey assigned to it? If so, that meant that no countermanding symbol existed. No doubt that was why Ramsey had chosen a rune of his own design. Ethan felt himself sag. He still didn’t know what the captain sought to accomplish, but already he sensed that there was nothing he could do to stop him. Ignorance and helplessness: they made for a demoralizing combination.

“I’m sorry, Patience,” he said to the shade. “I wanted you to know that Ramsey would be coming for you, and I thought you should know that it’s my fault. I’ll do everything I can to stop him.” He started to say more, but stopped himself, realizing he had nothing else to offer her. He would do his best, but he wondered if she knew as he did how woefully inadequate his best might prove to be.

She nodded to him again. If she was afraid, she didn’t show it.

“Thank you,” Ethan said to Reg. “ Dimitto vos ambos. ” I release you both.

Both ghosts faded, melting into the daylight that lit the room. Ethan returned to the common room, his legs heavy. He felt a pulse of power, followed by a second. Both of them seemed to come from the waterfront.

“Did she come to you?” Ruth asked.

“Aye. I’m not sure it did much good. But I spoke to her.” He searched for the right words.

More spells made the house tremble, though of course Ruth showed no sign of feeling anything. A part of him was desperate to be away, to learn what Ramsey had done now. But even if he learned all there was to know, he probably couldn’t stop the man, and saving Patience from his control was more important than fighting another losing battle.

“Ruth, I don’t know how to stop this conjurer. But I’m certain he intends to desecrate Patience’s grave, and I want to prevent that, even if it means…” He shook his head, unsure of exactly what he wanted to say.

“Darcy and I both trust you, Ethan, just as Mother did. We know that you would never do anything to harm her. So, do what you must.”