D. Jackson - Thieftaker

“Thank you, Janna,” Ethan said. “I owe you. When I have some money…”

She shook her head.

“Never mind that. You watch yourself, Kaille,” she said. “Between this speller and Sephira Pryce, you got some nasty folk wishin’ you harm.”

As if I need Janna to tell me that. “Again, thank you.”

“Now, go. I got things t’ do.” She softened the words with a rare smile.

Ethan grinned back and let himself out.

E than stepped onto the filthy, rain-slicked lane and started back toward the center of the city. He needed to return the brooch to Abner Berson and ask the merchant if he wanted Ethan to continue his inquiry. Ethan didn’t wish to end it before he found Jennifer’s killer, but Berson hired him to find the brooch, as both Yellow-hair and the ghostly girl, Anna, had reminded him. He had done that. It was up to Berson to tell him to continue or desist.

As he walked, he tried to think of what connections might exist between the Richardson hanging, the Pope’s Day parades, and the assault on Thomas Hutchinson’s house. All three events had drawn large crowds, many of them, no doubt, the “rabble” of which Hutchinson had spoken.

Ebenezer Mackintosh had led the South Enders on Pope’s Day, and he also had incited the mob to riot two nights ago. Ethan wouldn’t have been surprised to learn that he had been at the hanging, too. Hundreds had converged on the Neck that day to watch the notorious pair swing, and many had pelted the Richardsons with stones before the couple died. It was, he thought, just the sort of event to which Mackintosh and his faithful would have flocked. But he had never heard anything to indicate that the self-styled Commander of the South End was a conjurer, much less one as skilled as the speller who had created Anna.

Janna was right. It wasn’t enough simply to know that these killing spells had been cast. He needed to know what the conjurings had done, what evil the lives of this villain’s victims had purchased.

For that much he did know. Whatever power the killer had drawn from Jennifer Berson’s death and the deaths of his other two victims must have been dark. Such was the nature of killing spells, Janna’s “love spell” not withstanding. A conjurer willing to murder for a casting would do anything, destroy anyone, in pursuit of whatever wicked purpose drove him. This conjurer had to be found and destroyed.

Sephira wouldn’t be happy; unless somehow Ebenezer Mackintosh proved to be the greatest conjurer in all the colonies, neither would Thomas Hutchinson. And once the conjurer realized that Ethan hadn’t ended his inquiry, he would come after him, too. Ethan didn’t care. He knew that no one else could stand against this monster.

So resolved, Ethan arrived at the Berson home. William greeted him at the door and had him wait, dripping wet, in the entrance hall while he fetched the master of the house. A few moments later, Berson strode into the hall and led Ethan back to the study where they had spoken a few days before. Berson looked much the same as he had during their previous meeting, although perhaps the rings under his eyes were a bit more pronounced, his wig powdered with slightly less care. These past few days would have taken their toll on the man and his family.

“You have news for me?” the merchant asked when he and Ethan were seated by the hearth.

Ethan pulled the bundle containing the brooch from his pocket and held it out for Berson to take. The man hesitated, his gaze flitting from Ethan’s face to the package in his hand. Taking it at last, he unwrapped it with trembling hands. He let out a soft cry at the sight of the brooch and took a ragged breath. Tears ran down his cheeks.

“Thank you, Mister Kaille. You probably think me foolish, but I take some comfort in seeing this again.”

“I think I understand, sir,” Ethan said softly, keeping his gaze lowered.

“You’ve found the person who killed her, then?”

“No, sir.”

“But you know who did it. You must.”

Ethan shook his head.

“I don’t understand,” Berson said, staring down at the jewel lying in his thick palm. “How did you come by this?”

Ethan wasn’t sure how much to tell the merchant. It was one thing to tell Janna about the spells he had cast and the conjurer he had been pursuing. It was quite another explaining this to someone who wasn’t a conjurer himself, who probably feared such power and wanted nothing to do with those who wielded it. But in the end he decided that Berson deserved to hear everything. He told the man about both of his encounters with Anna, even going so far as to repeat her claim that Daniel Folter had killed Jennifer.

“And you’re quite sure that this Folter fellow didn’t kill her?” Berson asked when Ethan had finished.

“That’s right. I know for a fact that Daniel wasn’t a conjurer.”

Berson looked up from the brooch. “You say he ‘wasn’t’ a speller. Does that mean… he’s…?”

“He’s dead. He was killed just yesterday. This conjurer told me-speaking through the girl I mentioned-that he wants me to stop looking for your daughter’s killer. He threatened to kill me if I don’t.”

“I understand, Mister Kaille. I’m grateful to you for retrieving her brooch. You told me the other night that you didn’t usually take jobs that involved murder. You’ve done more than I could have expected.” He pushed himself out of his chair with a great effort. “I’ll pay you, and you can be free of this matter.”

“Actually, sir,” Ethan said, standing as well, “I don’t think you do understand. I’m not asking your permission to end my inquiry. I’m asking that you allow me to continue it.”

The merchant couldn’t have looked more surprised if Ethan had asked to lease a room in the house. “You want to go on with this?”

“I believe your daughter was killed for a larger, even more sinister purpose. I won’t burden you with details about conjuring and how my kind do what we do, except to say that there are spells so evil they require power drawn from human sacrifice. I believe your daughter died so that this conjurer could cast such a spell.”

“May God save us all,” the man whispered, actually recoiling from Ethan. “Can you prove this?”

Ethan shook his head. “No.”

“But then how-?”

For several moments, Ethan refused to look at the merchant. At last, chancing a quick glance, he saw that Berson’s face had drained of all color.

“You needed… you needed her… her corpse, didn’t you?”

“Yes, sir,” Ethan said, his voice low.

“Damn. I didn’t consider that. I just… the thought of her lying there in the crypt… My wife couldn’t take it anymore. The customary four days just felt like too long a time.”

“I understand, sir.”

“You’re kind, Mister Kaille. But I’ve made this harder for you. So, what can I do to make up for it?”

“You can refrain from telling anyone what I’m doing,” Ethan said. “If someone asks, even a member of your household, tell them you’re satisfied that I’ve learned everything I can about Jennifer’s murder, that Daniel Folter is responsible for her death, and that as far as you’re concerned the matter is closed.”

“Even people within my home?” Berson asked. “Surely my wife-”

Ethan raised a hand. “Please, sir. I’m not going to lie to you. I fear this conjurer, not least because I don’t know who he is. I’m sure your wife wouldn’t knowingly do anything to jeopardize the inquiry or my life. But I would feel safer if we could keep this matter between the two of us.”

“All right,” Berson said soberly. “Can I do anything else?”

Ethan felt heat rising in his cheeks. “To be honest, you can.” He gestured at his face. “The people who gave me these bruises took every coin I had, including the money you gave me. I managed to pay for my lodgings before they got to me, but I have no coin for food or anything else.”