D. Jackson - A Plunder of Souls

“All right, Kaille?”

Ethan nodded, cut his arm.

Several of Ramsey’s shades were advancing on Ethan again. Others had turned their attention to Mariz.

“ Remedium ex cruore evocatum, ” Ethan said. Healing, conjured from blood. He directed the conjuring at Ramsey’s leg, hoping to use his healing spell to shatter the bone from within. But the spell failed, drawing a laugh from Ramsey. Another conjuring pulsed in the floor. Ethan didn’t know what kind of spell it was, but he saw the blood vanish from Mariz’s arm. Again, though, nothing happened.

Mariz and Ethan shared a look.

“You’re persistent,” Ramsey said. “I’ll give you both credit for that. But you see now how futile this is. I will not be stopped.”

Iubeo, Nathaniel Ramsey, te mea iussa facere ex verbasco evocatum, Ethan chanted silently, caring not at all how many leaves he used. I command you, Nathaniel Ramsey, do my bidding, conjured in mullein.

The shade of Ramsey’s father stepped directly in front of Ethan, forcing the other shades, including those advancing on Mariz, to stop in their tracks. Ramsey’s ghost stared hard at Ethan, his brow bunched.

“I know that you don’t approve,” Ethan said to the glowing figure. “This is your chance to stop him.”

Nate Ramsey’s face reddened, and he leveled a rigid finger at Ethan’s heart. “My father is not yours to command!”

“Apparently he is.”

The shade turned to face his son.

“Release him!” Ramsey roared, his gaze sliding away from that of his father.

“Call back your shades.”

Ethan cut himself again. “ Tegimen ex cruore evocatum. ” Warding, conjured from blood. At the touch of power, Reg faced Ethan, their eyes meeting. Ethan wasn’t sure why, but this one time he sensed that his spell had worked. Perhaps by drawing the attention of the ghosts, Ramsey had left the boundary between the living and the dead unguarded, allowing Ethan access to the power there.

The shades watched both Ramseys; Ethan sensed that they were awaiting commands from one of them or the other.

Nate Ramsey hacked at his arm and muttered a spell Ethan couldn’t hear. He felt the conjuring and was nearly knocked off his feet by the force of whatever the captain had thrown at him. But his warding held.

“Damn you!” Ramsey said, shouting the words. “Let him go!”

“Get out of here,” Ethan said. “When you and your shades are gone, I’ll release him. And not before.”

“I can kill you where you stand!”

“I believe you just tried that. It didn’t work. And it’s fortunate for you that it failed. Or to be more precise, it’s fortunate for your father.”

Ethan heard a loud click. Mariz had pulled out a pistol and now held it full-cocked and aimed at Ramsey.

“Nigel’s,” he said for Ethan’s benefit.

“I can destroy that weapon with any number of spells,” Ramsey said, sounding like a boastful child.

“And I can blow a hole in your head before the Latin crosses your lips.” Mariz shifted his gaze to Ethan. “Indeed, I feel compelled to ask why I should not do this, regardless of whether he casts.”

“Because he’s leaving now,” Ethan said. He gestured at Ramsey’s shades. “And because I’m not ready to condemn all of these souls to oblivion.”

“I can bring this entire building down,” Ramsey said. “I can kill both of you.”

“Is that truly a risk you wish to take?” Ethan asked.

The spirit of Ramsey the elder had not moved since turning to look at his son, but he stepped forward now, shaking his head. He pointed toward the door with a glowing hand.

Ramsey held his father’s gaze for several seconds. No being in the room moved or made a sound, until at last the captain broke eye contact with the shade of his father.

“You have one night’s reprieve, Kaille. That’s all you’ve accomplished here.”

Ethan kept his silence.

The corner of Ramsey’s mouth quirked upward in a bitter smile. And as it did, the shades he had summoned vanished. With their departure, the room dimmed.

Mariz sidled away from the door, keeping his eyes on Ramsey and his pistol aimed at the captain’s head.

“You’ve made an enemy tonight,” Ramsey said to him. “You shouldn’t have come here, and”-he jerked a thumb in Ethan’s direction-“you shouldn’t have cast your lot with him.”

When Mariz didn’t answer either, Ramsey laughed. “Fools,” he said. An instant later, his expression hardened once more. “You will release him as soon as I’m gone. I’ll know if you don’t. And for every second he is forced to linger here, I’ll prolong by an hour your final torment. You’ll endure pain beyond your darkest imaginings.”

“When you’re on your ship, and not before.”

The look Ramsey gave him could have flayed the flesh from his bones. The captain cast one last glance at his father, and left the room. Ethan listened for his steps on the wooden stairway leading down to the narrow alley below.

Mariz started to speak, but Ethan raised a hand, silencing him. When Ethan no longer heard Ramsey’s footsteps he walked past Mariz and onto the landing outside his door. He caught a glimpse of the captain turning the corner onto Cooper’s Alley; Ramsey did not appear to see him.

Still he waited, listening, watchful. Mariz joined him on the landing.

“We should not have let him go.”

Ethan leaned his arms on the wooden railing and took several slow, deep breaths. There was little left of his shirt and waistcoat save charred tatters, and the cool night air felt good on his burns and his blistered arm. The bruises on his back and shoulders throbbed. “Killing him might have been easier. It’s what he would have done in my position. But I was hired to protect the souls he has bound to his service, to win their freedom if I can. Reverend Caner might not understand that he hired me to do this, but he did. I can’t kill him yet.” He glanced at Mariz, offering a wan smile. “I don’t suppose Sephira would have handled things this way.”

“Not at all. She would have killed him without hesitation. He continues to destroy the goods of merchants she is paid to protect. There were two more incidents today. Not fires this time; instead spells that ground items to dust. The senhora wants him dead. I do not want her to know that you and I have met without her knowledge. I do not want her to know that I was here. Otherwise, I would have killed him despite your wishes.”

Ethan shrugged, and glanced toward his doorway. The shade of Nathaniel Ramsey stood on the threshold, with Reg at his shoulder, watching the ghost’s every move.

“Before this is over, it may come to that,” Ethan said. “But I wasn’t ready to make such a choice tonight.”

“The senhora would say that you have delayed what is inevitable, and you have put other lives at risk. It is a dangerous choice.”

Ethan could think of nothing to say. Mariz was right: Sephira would see the matter just that way. He wondered if his refusal to do so was a weakness. Sephira would have said it was; so might Ramsey, though it was his life Ethan had spared.

“You need healing,” Mariz said.

“How did you know to come?” Ethan asked, ignoring his comment for the moment.

“I sensed the spells-his and yours. The more I felt, the more concerned I grew.”

“I’m grateful to you.”

Mariz inclined his head, acknowledging Ethan’s thanks. “Your injuries?”

“The burns are the worst of it. But I can heal myself.”

“You may have to. I do not know if my spells will work. But allow me to try.”

Mariz cut himself, put blood on Ethan’s burns, and cast a healing spell. The first conjuring failed, but not the second, and for several minutes Mariz and Ethan did not speak.