D. Jackson - A Plunder of Souls

Ethan shook his head. “Not yet. But I was thinking that if we combined our spells, cast them together, we might have a better chance.”

“I ain’t never done that.”

“Neither have I. But last year, when those men died aboard the Graystone, that was how the sisters Osborne made their conjurings so powerful. I know it can be done.”

“Then we’ll find a way,” Janna said. “Have you talked to ole Black yet?”

“No. I came to you first.”

“Well, it sounds like we’ll need him, too.”

“Aye, we will. And also Mariz.”

“Who is that?” she asked, though Ethan thought that she already knew.

“He works for Sephira.”

“That’s what I thought! Did you get hit on the head or somethin’? You want to fight Ramsey with one of Pryce’s men on our side? You might as well put your knife to your throat!”

“If it was anyone else I would agree with you. But Mariz is different. I trust him. He’s already saved my life once, and now he has more reasons than most to hate Ramsey.”

“Why? What’s happened?”

Ethan told her about the battle at the wharf and his subsequent confrontation with Ramsey and the sheriff.

She didn’t look happy, but aside from those few moments in the Dowser, when Kannice was doting on her and Ethan was buying her chowder, he couldn’t remember the last time she had.

“Well, I suppose that this once havin’ Pryce and her boys on our side might help.”

“I’m going to speak with Gavin next,” Ethan said, already starting toward the door. “I don’t know yet what we’re going to do, or when. But I’ll let you know as soon as I can.” He paused, looking back at her. She was tiny and frail; her dark skin seemed to be stretched thin over the bones of her face. He had no doubts about her skill as a conjurer, but he couldn’t helping thinking that he was making a mistake asking her to fight this battle with him.

“I know what you’re thinkin’,” she said, meeting his gaze and raising her chin defiantly. “I’m old. I ain’t as strong as I once was, and I wake up some mornin’s thinkin’ that a good wind could blow me over. But there ain’t no one else in this city knows magicking like I do. There ain’t no one else who can help you as much as I can.”

“I believe that. You’ve been a good friend to me over the years, Janna.”

“No, I haven’t. I’m mean as a snake, and you know it. But that’s just my way. It don’t mean that I don’t…” She gave a vague wave of her hand. “You know.”

“I do. And I don’t want something to happen to you because of anything that I ask you to do.”

“Ramsey didn’t start this because of you. Boy’s got darkness in his soul. It ain’t your fault. We can let him win, or we can fight him an’ get our conjurin’s back. You know which I choose. Now, go see ole Black.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She grinned at that.

Ethan left her and walked back toward Hillier’s Lane. He could have saved himself some walking by going to Black first, before he visited Janna. But if Janna had refused him, Gavin would have, too. And Ethan needed Janna’s knowledge of spellmaking to make all of this work.

Gavin’s house on Hillier’s Lane, which stood but a stone’s throw from the Dowsing Rod, was one of the older homes on the street. Its clapboard siding had been weathered to a pale gray by nearly one hundred winters and more storms than Ethan could count.

Gavin had once told him that the house was first built for his great-grandfather, who had also been a sea captain, and who had given up the sea after losing his arm in a whaling accident. The house had been passed down to Gavin, who leased it during his years at sea, and finally returned to it when he sold his ship.

Ethan knocked on the door, waited, knocked again, and was beginning to wonder if he should look for the old man elsewhere when at last the door opened.

Gavin blinked against the daylight. His clothes were rumpled, and his white hair was in tangles.

“Ethan,” he said, his surprise apparent.

“Did I wake you?”

“Aye.” He tried to smooth his hair. “It’s been thirteen years since I gave up sailing, and still I don’t sleep well on land. I catch what sleep I can, regardless of the time.” He fixed a smile on his face and gestured for Ethan to enter the house. “Come in.”

Ethan stepped past him. He had been in the house only a few times before, and not for some time. It hadn’t changed much in the intervening years. It was sparsely furnished and in need of fresh paint.

“Can I offer you some wine?”

“No, thank you. I’m sorry to disturb you, Gavin, but I need your help.”

“My help?” Gavin said. He sat in a threadbare chair beside an empty hearth, and indicated a second chair for Ethan. “You’re the thieftaker. What help could you need from an old man?”

Ethan lowered himself into the other chair. “It’s related to what we talked about in the street the other day: the trouble you were having with your conjurings.”

Gavin averted his gaze. “How can my inability to conjure help you?”

“In all your years at sea, did you know a merchant captain named Nathaniel Ramsey?”

“Of course. He was a friend, a good man.”

“Did you know his son?”

“Aye. I haven’t seen Nate in years, but as a lad he spent some time on my ship. His father felt that he should have experience sailing under more than a single captain.”

Ethan sat forward. “So you know him well.”

“I’m not sure I’d say that. It’s been years since last we spoke. And after Nathaniel’s death … Nate changed.”

Ethan didn’t need for Gavin to elaborate. “He’s back in Boston; his ship is moored at Tileston’s Wharf. It’s he who is responsible for the grave robberies I mentioned. He’s using the shades of the dead to strengthen his own conjurings and deny the rest of us access to the power we need to cast.”

Gavin looked stricken. “Nate’s doing all of that?”

“I’m afraid so. He’s also trying to bring back his father from the dead.”

“Good God, no! He has to understand: it won’t be Nathaniel. It would be something else, something twisted, dark, more wraith than man.”

“He’s not thinking clearly, Gavin. I believe he’s more than a little insane. Brilliant and powerful, but mad. I’ve tried to reason with him, and I had hoped that I could get him to leave Boston, even if it meant helping him raise his father. But he believes that I’ve wronged him, and he seeks to avenge himself upon me, regardless of the pain it brings to others.”

“I’m sorry to hear it,” Gavin said. “But I don’t see what I can do.”

“Janna and I intend to fight him. I’m going to enlist another speller I know, and I hoped that you-”

“No.” Gavin stood and began to pace the room. “I have no power, Ethan. I’m old and weak and I can’t help you.”

“Working together, we might be able to cast more reliably, and we might enhance our power, as well.”

The old man shook his head, still pacing. “No. I can’t do it.”

Ethan frowned and watched him in silence. “I wish I’d known that you knew him so well,” he said at last. “You might have reached him where others couldn’t.”

Gavin halted, stared at him. “Are you asking me to talk to him?”

“No. I think it’s too late for that.”

“Nate and I don’t know each other well, at least not anymore,” Gavin went on, as if he hadn’t heard. He shook his head again and resumed his pacing. “I’m afraid of what he’s become. The last time I saw him I sensed the seeds of that madness you speak of now. It frightened me. And I think that he harbors resentment toward me, too. I didn’t do enough for his father at the end. That’s what he said, and I suppose it’s true.”