D. Jackson - A Plunder of Souls

Instead, he walked west along Ferry Way to the Water Mill and the Mill Dam. In the heat, with the level of water down because of the lack of rain, the pond smelled especially rank. But the dam itself was deserted, and Ethan welcomed the solitude. Halfway across, he stopped and cast an illusion spell using the water as a source. It was a simple conjuring. He sent an image of himself into his room over Henry’s cooperage, and was able to see through its eyes the disarray left by his battle with Ramsey: the shattered door and broken window. Shelly sat on the stairway landing outside the doorway. She whined at the sight of Ethan’s conjuring and stood, baring her teeth. Dogs, he had noticed before, responded this way to illusion spells, as well as to spectral guides.

“It’s all right, Shelly,” Ethan said through the image he had summoned. “It’s just me.”

The dog gave a tentative wag of her tail.

Ethan allowed the conjuring to end, and opened his eyes to the bright glare of the summer sun. A simple conjuring: just the sort of spell that Ramsey’s control of the shades had made impossible a single day before. Perhaps the captain was dead.

Reg stood beside him, ghostly pale in the sunlight.

“I can conjure,” Ethan said. “Does that mean that the boundary between the living world and the realm of the dead is whole again?”

The old warrior nodded.

“Is Ramsey dead?”

A shrug.

“Right. Very well. My thanks for all you’ve done the past few days.”

The ghost offered a small bow and vanished.

Ethan finished crossing the dam into New Boston, and followed Leveret’s Street down to Lynde, where sat the Walters house. At his knock on the door, Ruth opened the door, her son in her arms.

“Ethan!” she said, smiling. “Darcy,” she called into the house. “It’s Ethan.”

She waved him inside, and Darcy joined them in the common room.

“Whatever you did worked,” he said, gripping Ethan’s hand. “We’re grateful to you.”

“She wasn’t here last night?” Ethan asked.

Ruth shook her head. She still looked drawn, but she was smiling again; Ethan couldn’t remember the last time he had seen her look so at ease.

“I’m glad,” he said. “I hope that she remains at rest now, as she deserves.”

“We feel that we should pay you for your time,” Ruth said.

“No, thank you.”

“Will you at least sup with us?”

“I’d like that. In a day or two perhaps.”

Ruth nodded, and as she did, Benjamin began to fuss. “He’s hungry, and ready to nap. I’ll take him to our room. Thank you again, Ethan.” With a last glance at her husband, she retreated to the back of the house.

“What did you do?” Darcy asked, once he and Ethan were alone.

“I prefer not to speak of it. What matters is, I managed to shield her from the influence of another conjurer, and in the end her shade actually saved my life. To be honest, as glad as I am for your sake and Ruth’s that she’s gone, I had almost hoped to see her again, so that I could thank her. I suppose I’ll have to thank you, instead.”

“You were a good friend to her in life, Ethan. And whatever you had to do to bring peace to her spirit, I can’t thank you enough.”

“You’re welcome.” Ethan returned to the door, but after stepping outside, he turned to Darcy once more. “If by some chance she comes back, you’ll let me know, won’t you?”

Darcy frowned. “Do you think that’s possible?”

“I don’t know,” Ethan said with a shrug. “Probably not. Forget that I mentioned it.”

He started to walk away.

“You’ll join us for supper one night?”

“Absolutely. Send a message to me at the Dowser.”

Rather than heading back to the tavern or to his room in the South End, Ethan followed Cambridge Street out to Pest House Point, and the Province Hospital. He knew better than to think that he would be allowed to enter the building to see Holin, Elli, and Clara, but he hoped that he could get word of the boy’s condition.

As he approached the hospital, he saw no less a personage than Dr. Joseph Warren emerging from its front entrance.

Ethan hailed him, at first drawing a puzzled look. As Ethan drew nearer, recognition lit the doctor’s face.

“Mister Kaille,” Warren said. “The thieftaker who doesn’t wish to ally himself with the cause of liberty.”

“Aye, Doctor. I’m flattered that you remember.”

Ethan was still several strides away from the stairs leading to the door, but Warren held up a hand to stop him.

“I wouldn’t come closer than that, sir.”

Ethan slowed, then halted.

“What brings you out here, Mister Kaille?”

“A friend of mine was taken with smallpox a few days ago. I wish to know how he’s faring.”

“You know you can’t go inside.”

“Aye, but perhaps you know of him.”

“Perhaps. His name?”

“Holin Harper. A young man of nineteen years.”

“Ah, yes!” Warren said. “He’s doing well, and as of yet, neither his mother nor his sister has taken ill.”

“So, you expect him to recover?” Ethan asked. He felt a loosening in his chest; he hadn’t realized how much he feared for the lad until those fears were put to rest.

“Yes, I do.”

“Will he be scarred?”

Warren’s expression clouded. “That I can’t say, although in most cases there is some scarring.”

“Of course. Thank you, Doctor.”

Ethan started to turn away, but after a moment’s pause, faced Warren once more.

“Did you notice anything different in the hospital last night?” Ethan asked.

Warren stared back at him and took one step closer. “What do you mean?”

“I think you know.” Ethan kept his voice just loud enough for Warren to hear. “For several nights, this building was populated by shades. I’m wondering if last night was different.”

“How do you know of this?” Warren asked.

“You already know the answer to that, Doctor,” Ethan said, lowering his voice further. “Mister Adams has told you that I’m a conjurer. I was asked by Reverend Henry Caner to look into a matter involving desecrated graves and, it turned out, restless spirits. And when Holin was first taken ill, I came here, and saw the shades myself.”

“Reverend Caner also knows that you’re a … What did you call yourself? A conjurer?”

“Aye, Reverend Caner has some inkling of my abilities, but he also knows that I have never used my powers for evil purposes, and so he … he tolerates my presence here in the city.”

“I see. To answer your question, yes, last night was different. For the first time in nearly a week, we saw none of the demons at all.”

“I’m glad,” Ethan said. “And I dare to hope that you won’t encounter them again.”

“I’m pleased to hear that. I know that my colleagues here will be as well.”

Ethan raised a hand in farewell, and turned away.

“We could use your talents in our struggle for liberty, thieftaker. I hope that you’ll consider joining us.”

Ethan didn’t answer, but he glanced back at the doctor and nodded once before beginning the lengthy walk to the central part of the city. Perhaps he would join them eventually. But for now he was too weary to contemplate such a thing.

He next paid a visit to King’s Chapel, where he informed Mr. Pell and Reverend Caner of Ramsey’s disappearance, and the discovery of the missing body parts.

“That last we had already learned,” Caner told him. “Mister Thomson has already begun the grisly task of restoring the graves to their previous condition.”

“Graves were desecrated in other burying grounds,” Ethan said.

Pell nodded. “We know. We’ll see to it that everything that was taken is returned.”