Spellmaker

Irene considered this a long moment, taking her time as she always did. The kitchen was beginning to grow uncomfortable by the time she asked, “Might I see the articles?”

Ogden slipped from the room to retrieve his sketchbook. Meanwhile, Elsie explained, “We just have copies of them, not the actual articles themselves.”

“Good enough.”

Ogden returned, and Elsie felt a slight pulse in the air as a spell moved out from him. Irene took the sketchbook, then stiffened.

“You needed merely to ask,” she murmured.

Ogden didn’t look at all chastised. He studied her a moment before saying, “She’s genuine. I think she’s trustworthy.” He sounded surprised. The pulse happened a second time, directed toward Emmeline, who didn’t react to it whatsoever. After several seconds, Ogden confirmed, “Emmeline is as well.”

“I told you so,” Emmeline said, then jumped in her chair. “Did you just magic me?”

Elsie wrung her hands together, trying to think of a way Irene could tamper with Ogden’s spell. But even if the woman possessed an opus page like Elsie did, she wouldn’t be able to use it without pulling it out and saying the word excitant. Yet Elsie struggled to believe that someone could simply be all right with what they’d confessed, or that the woman she’d seen as an obstacle had become an ally so easily. Even Bacchus had needed to be persuaded to keep her secret when he’d first learned she was an illegal spellbreaker.

Could it be that God, the universe, or fate was finally showing them a kindness?

It felt too good to be true, but she would simply have to trust Ogden. And, somehow, trust Irene as well.

Irene looked over the articles. “Interesting. And it’s spelled exactly this way in the original?” She turned the page.

“Letter for letter.” Elsie searched her face for clues, but she did seem genuine.

Irene flipped to the last article, the one from the United States, and turned back to the beginning, reading them through a second time. She turned one page too many at the end, landing on the half-finished sketch of Lily Merton. Continuing on, she came face-to-face with the rendering of the American.

“The one who stopped me in Juniper Down,” Elsie said.

Irene bit her lip and tilted the sketchbook closer to her face. She scrutinized him, tilting her head one way, then another. “I know him.”

Elsie’s heart leapt into her mouth. Ogden must have had a similar reaction, for he suddenly bumped the table. He said, “You do?” at the same time Elsie exclaimed, “Truly?”

Irene nodded, eyes still on the page. She chewed on the inside of her cheek as she contemplated. “Let’s see . . . Boston . . . Raven. Something Raven . . .”

Ogden stiffened, his pale eyes shooting to Elsie’s. “The articles. One of them mentioned ravens.”

Numb, Elsie recited the title of the article from the Boston Herald: The Intrigue of Bespelling Ravens in the Spiritual Alignment. “And the Manchester Guardian mentioned black birds.”

Ogden looked weak in the knees, and he pulled out a chair and sat down. “She called him by name.”

Swallowing, Elsie worked to recall what else had been in that article. She’d read it so many times it wasn’t difficult. “‘It is critical to recognize the need for organizing ravens, either in the United States or Britain itself.’ That means she wants to meet him and she doesn’t care where.”

“Quinn!” Irene shouted, dropping Elsie’s heart back into her chest. “Quinn Raven. I’m sure that was it.

“I knew of him during my time in America—I lived there for a short while,” she explained. “He vanished suddenly about eleven years ago. I remember because he left nearly everything behind, outside of emptying his bank account. It was quite extraordinary. No one knew where he went. They still don’t, I believe.

“I was working under Maurice Barre at the time—he was the head of accounting at the Boston Spiritual Atheneum. He was in charge of sorting through Raven’s estate. In fact . . . yes, I believe that’s where I first met Master Merton.”

“She was in the States?” Emmeline leaned over the table with utmost interest.

“Mr. Barre brought me along in case anything was, well, rigged or baited,” Irene explained. “Aspectors, especially master ones, tend to use grave security measures to protect themselves and their property. The place was in utter disarray.” She set the sketchbook down. “His notes were scattered, many of them burnt or half so. We believe he was in a deep study of some theory or another before he vanished. He was a very secretive fellow. Eccentric and reclusive.”

Ogden gripped the edge of the table. “Is there anything else you remember?”

Irene pondered a moment while Elsie’s pulse pounded through her entire body. She snapped her fingers. “Drops. There was a large amount of drops in the steward’s records that were never found. It would have been surprising if he’d left something so valuable behind. Mr. Barre was quite put out about it.”