D. Jackson - A Plunder of Souls

The three of them cut themselves and recited the spell: “ Provoca ventum ex cruore evocatum. ” Summon wind, conjured from blood.

Ethan felt the pulses of power-three of them, separate, though in such quick succession that they were very nearly simultaneous-and knew that they had cast the spell incorrectly. Moreover, none of the conjurings worked; no wind rose in the tavern.

Janna’s mouth twisted, like that of a child puzzling over a difficult bit of arithmetic. Mariz watched Ethan.

For his part, Ethan was thinking once more of the Osborne sisters, of how similar all their gestures and actions had been. The spells they recited together had sounded as rehearsed as the repertoire of professional musicians.

“We should be standing together,” he said. “Side by side. And our guides should clasp hands.”

All of them repositioned themselves.

“What else?” Mariz asked.

“It should all be done precisely. Our cuts should be the same length, the same depth, and simultaneous. And we need to speak the spell as one, at exactly the same time.” He turned to Janna. “How do you say it?”

She recited the Latin for him.

“Again,” Ethan said.

Janna spoke the spell a second time.

Looking at Mariz, Ethan said, “Can you repeat it the same way?”

“I believe so, yes.”

Ethan placed his knife against his skin. “Let’s try the spell again.”

They cut themselves and spoke the conjuring. But though Ethan could hear that they were more in unison than they had been on their first attempt, he also knew that once again they had failed. He felt three distinct thrums of power, and while a wind did rise, it was no more forceful than a wind he could have summoned on his own.

“That was my fault,” Mariz said. “I was too slow with the second half of the spell. Let us try it once more.”

“Is that all right with you, Janna?” Ethan asked, eyeing her.

“I don’t know,” she said, her voice quavering. “I’s feelin’ a bit faint.”

“Are you? Because we can-”

“No, I’m not!” she snapped at him. “Stop treatin’ me like some frail old woman!”

Mariz laughed; after a moment Ethan did as well.

Janna tried to look cross, but after a few seconds, she grinned, too. “I ain’t that old,” she said, the smile lingering. “And I’m a lot stronger than I look.”

“All right,” Ethan said. “Consider me properly chastened.”

He raised his knife once more. Janna and Mariz did the same.

“ Provoca ventum ex cruore evocatum, ” they said as one.

There could be no mistaking the powerful rumble of the spell as it shook the walls of Janna’s tavern. Once more a wind rose, this time building into a gale that rattled the door and overturned several tables and chairs.

Mariz was smiling, looking amazed; even Janna beamed.

Ethan raised his knife. “We need to release this wind,” he shouted over the howl, “before it tears the Spider apart.”

Janna nodded.

They cut themselves, and said together, “ Dimitte ventum ex cruore evocatum. ” Release wind, conjured from blood.

Another pulse rumbled beneath their feet, and the gale died away.

“Well, I’ll be,” Janna said. “I didn’t think we could do this, Kaille. I’m impressed.”

“As am I.”

He and Mariz righted the tables and chairs.

“Ramsey will have felt those conjurings,” Mariz said in a low voice as they worked. “He will be ready.”

“Aye, he will,” Ethan said. “Perhaps he’ll even think twice about facing us.”

Mariz did not answer.

“You disagree?”

“I think you are too eager to avoid a fight. That can be an admirable trait, but it is not always appropriate.”

Ethan picked up a chair and set it down smartly before looking the man in the eye. “And today it got Nigel killed.”

“Nigel’s death was not your fault. I would never claim otherwise.”

“Would Sephira, if she knew of the choice I made last night?”

“She will not learn of it.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

Mariz faltered. “Yes,” he finally said. “I believe she would.”

Ethan felt certain that he was right.

“What do we do now?” Janna asked.

Both men turned.

“We go to Tileston’s Wharf,” Ethan said. “And we talk to Ramsey.”

Janna raised an eyebrow. “We talk to him? What if he don’t want to talk?”

“Then we cast, just as we have here. But understand, he still controls an army of shades, innocents whose souls he holds in the palm of his hand. If he dies, they’re lost.”

Mariz and Janna shared a look.

“Kaille-” Janna began.

“I know what you’re going to say. But if there’s any chance we can save them, I’m going to try.”

“All right,” she said. “Let’s be goin’.”

“First, we have to go to the senhora ’s house,” Mariz said.

Janna’s eyes narrowed. “What’s he talkin’ about?” she asked, but Ethan could tell that she already understood.

“He’s talking about Sephira. She and her men will be coming with us to the dock.”

“And when were you plannin’ to tell me that?” Janna asked, fists on her hips.

“At the very last minute, if possible.” Ethan assayed a smile.

Janna’s expression didn’t change.

“We need her, Miss Windcatcher,” Mariz said. “Ramsey will have his crew to protect him. We need the senhora and her men to help us past them.”

“Fine,” she said, spitting the word. To Ethan she added pointedly, “You and I will talk later.”

Before anyone could say more, Ethan felt the rumble of a spell, distant but powerful.

“Ramsey?” Mariz asked.

The pulse of a second conjuring vibrated in the floor and walls.

“That’s strong magick,” Janna said. “Must be Ramsey.”

Ethan agreed. “We need to go.”

They left the Fat Spider, pausing so that Janna could lock the door, and set out for Sephira’s estate. Their ghosts remained with them. The conjurers said little as they walked, though they felt one more spell. Ethan thought that the spells were coming from near the waterfront, and though he wasn’t certain, he noticed that Janna and Mariz both gazed toward the harbor. When they reached Sephira’s estate, Mariz went up the path and entered the house, while Ethan and Janna waited in the lane. Janna eyed the house, her lips pursed. Her blue spectral guide stood with her, also looking up at the house. Reg, Ethan noticed, was watching Janna’s ghost,

“This is where she lives?” Janna asked at length.

“Aye.”

“Sure is big.”

“It is.”

“You ever been inside?”

“Aye,” Ethan said. “It’s nice. Nicer than she deserves.”

Janna chuckled. “So why are you workin’ with her now?”

“Because I can’t beat Ramsey on my own, and she hates him even more than she hates me.” He took a long breath, his throat tightening. “Ramsey killed one of her men today. She doesn’t know it, but Mariz and I could have killed Ramsey last night. I elected to spare his life, and so Sephira’s man is dead.”

Janna shook her head. “Life don’t always work that way. Sure, if you’d killed Ramsey, he couldn’t have killed Sephira’s boy. But you don’t know what would have happened to him later today or tomorrow or the next day. We can all take blame for one thing or another. Don’t make it harder on yourself than it needs to be. You spared a man’s life. What he does with his life after, that ain’t your responsibility.”

Ethan nodded.

Before either of them could say more, the door to the house opened and Sephira’s men-at least ten of them-filed out, followed by the Empress herself.