Chronicles of Steele: Raven 3: Episode 3 (4 page)

The
coachman blinked hard twice at the people surrounding the witch. He shook his
head and pushed his hands dismissively toward the woman in the net. “I don’t
need this. You’re on your own, madam.”

A
muffled whining came from the woman whose scarf covered her face once more.
After mounting the open cart, the coachman turned his horse around on the
street and started away. Rupert joined Monroe and Colton on the other side of
the witch. Raven shot an arm in Jack’s direction and took a step backward. She
nodded across the other side of the walkway and called out to the others.
“Stand back, everyone.”

She
pulled one of the sticks from her hair and threw it to the walkway in front of
the witch. Glass shattered, and green smoke sidled up from the ground where the
stick landed. Half the curls from Raven’s bun fell out as she backed quickly
with her shirtsleeve covering her face. Monroe did the same and motioned to the
two guardsmen with him. Jack lifted his arm to his face and stepped back.

The
witch’s struggle lasted a moment longer, and the green gas dispersed in the
wind. Raven dropped her hand and approached. Jack followed her lead, and Monroe
sauntered up with a smile. “Excellent job, Raven.”

Raven
shook her head, her eyes wide. “I couldn’t think of any other way to contain
the witch.”

“Truly
good thinking.” Monroe knelt to untangle the unconscious witch from the
grappling net. His grin grew wider, and he shook his head in amazement. “Spider
wire, too.”

Jack
stared at the other glass tube the female reaper had in her hair. He flushed.
Did that contain the same two chemicals? Now he knew what she meant when she
said she was never weaponless. She snapped the crossbow to her back once more
and pulled the other glass tube from her hair. Black curls cascaded around her
shoulders and hid her face. She pulled them into a quick twirl and put the
remaining tube in parallel to the ground. Pale blue liquid sloshed in one
portion of glass, yellow in the other.

Raven
bent to help, because Monroe continued to struggle a bit with the net. Rupert
pulled a knife from his side. “Should we just cut the blasted thing?”

“No!”
Raven shot the man a look of ice. “It’s reusable.”

Monroe
chuckled. “You should have let him try, Raven. Spider wire is nearly impossible
to cut with anything but a diamond-tipped blade.”

Rupert
shoved his knife back into the sheath at his side. He folded his arms across
his chest and took a step back. His eyes met Jack's with an unspoken malice.
Rupert hated the feeling of being useless and held back as much as Jack. But
Jack had become so enamored with watching Raven’s techniques and talents that
he’d enjoyed taking an exhibitor’s seat.

After
another moment’s struggle, the net pulled from the witch’s face, dragging the
shawl with it. Raven gasped, and Monroe’s eyes grew wide. Jack peered over the
reaper’s shoulder and found chestnut colored hair with only a few grey streaks.
Rupert bent and pushed the woman onto her back. It was not the face of the Wood
Witch.

Things rarely go according to
plan.
Be flexible and willing to change at all times.

R
AVEN GROWLED, THROWING her hands
into the air, and marched toward the woods.
Not the right woman?
The
adrenaline still coursed through her veins, and her fight reflex made her want
to punch a tree.

Grant
trotted to her and grabbed her gently by the arm. “Are you all right?”

She
ripped her arm from him and snapped. “I’m fine. Smashing.”

As
she strode for the woods, she shoved the folded net back into the grappling
bolt she’d used. When the net didn’t want return quickly to its bolt, she
wanted to throw the whole thing on the ground and have a tantrum like a
five-year-old. She closed her eyes and took a shuddering breath and whispered
her father’s teaching to herself. “Rage never accomplishes anything. Mistakes
are made more often fueled by anger. No one thinks clearly when angry.”

“That’s
true,” Grant said from her side.

Raven
started. She didn’t realize he had still been following her. The snow crunched
under her boots as she quickened her step toward the woods. The wind picked up
and chilled her. She reached the thicket and found the place she’d been
kneeling. The red corded sword remained in the brush, tangled in a vine. Raven
grasped the hilt and pulled it cleanly from the dried branches. After checking
the blade in the gaslight, she snapped it to her back once more.

“Did
you know Colton’s father gave him that sword when he left home?” Grant leaned
against a tree, his eyes hidden in the shadow across the top half of his face.

Raven
shrugged. “Are you attempting to make me feel guilty?”

He
shook his head, the corners of his lips inching up into a smile. “No, I’m not.
But does it make any difference to you when you know your victims more
personally?”

Her
jaw clamped, the rage bubbling up in her chest again. She spoke through her
teeth, “Victims? Did I kill Colton?”

He
shook his head and pushed off from the tree, following her as she started back
toward the walkway and the others. “I didn’t mean victims, but I couldn’t
conceive of a better word.”

She
quickened her step and made him jog to keep up. The captured woman sat on the
stone walkway, awake. Monroe and Colton knelt with her in conversation. Rupert
stood over them, a stern look on his face, as always. The woman showed nary a
sign of disorientation, and Monroe wrapped the shawl around her shoulders as he
pulled her to her feet. Colton spotted them and started over to Grant.
“Captain, the woman is willing to cooperate. I suggest we go inside and tend to
the young girl’s needs as we question the witch.”

Grant
nodded and shot a look at Raven. Colton smiled at her innocently. She shrugged
and ripped her gaze from them. The guilt Grant had planted lingered like a dark
cloud. She couldn’t meet Colton’s eyes anymore. He really wasn’t a bad guy.
Grant was right about it being easier to demonize a person she didn’t know.

Monroe
allowed the woman to lean on him as he guided her to the porch. Rupert and
Raven hung back while Grant and Colton took the lead. Tall, white columns held
a covered porch as wide as the full front of the house. The group spread out
across the portico, while Grant grasped the brass door knocker.

Hardly
a moment after the knock, the large red door swung in. The same grandmother
from the café stood behind the butler at the door, her smile frozen as she
assessed the number of people on her porch. Her eyebrows furrowed. “What’s
going on here?”

The
woman they’d captured righted herself suddenly and pushed Grant to one side.
“Good evening, Mrs. Gardner. You called for the Wood Witch?”

A
general look of surprise widened Grant and Colton’s eyes. Their faces mirrored
Raven’s own. Monroe met her eyes and nodded slightly, assuring her that things
were fine. She closed her jaw and nodded back. Grant shook his head and said,
“I’m sorry, madam. I wasn’t completely honest with you earlier. My comrades and
I are on a mission for the Duke’s Guard. Colton here is a medical doctor, but
we also need to keep an eye on this woman.”

The
red-haired woman who claimed the status of Wood Witch narrowed her eyes at
Grant. She gave him a look that threatened him to not give away any more
information about her. Grant stood taller, but acquiesced.

Raven
didn’t like that this witch held herself in the same manner as the witch she’d
met in the woods. Just like the last witch, this one took control of the
situation. “Now, take me to the girl. I am late enough as it is.”

When
the group reached the bottom of the stairs, the grandmother turned around. “Is
it really necessary for all of you to follow? The room is small. Can’t just the
doctor and the witch come up?”

Grant
took a half step back and started to nod. Raven grabbed him by the arm and
whispered harshly. “Don’t leave Colton alone with the witch.”

“I’m
not convinced this woman is a witch. Besides, the child does need medical
attention,” he whispered back.”

“Fine,”
Raven continued to whisper in the same tone. She gave him a look that said she
wouldn’t take no for an answer. “But I’m going with him.”

He
nodded, and spoke aloud to the grandmother as she continued up the stairs. “And
Raven, our nurse, should accompany them.”

The
two older women turned around and assessed Raven. She felt suddenly self
conscious. Honestly, she’d never had much training in being a lady and spent
almost all her teenage years with adult men. She didn’t know how to respond to
them, but she was also certain that they knew she was no nurse. Heat flushed
her cheeks.

“Very
well,” the grandmother said as she clasped the banister and took careful steps.
“I’m sure we can accommodate her.”

Raven
started up after them.

The
grandmother waved the rest of the group toward the kitchen. And the butler
announced to the remaining downstairs party, “Follow me, if you please. We have
tea prepared in the kitchen.”

Although
his attire looked completely out of place in the white marble foyer, Monroe
stood tall and carried himself in as genteel a manner as the butler himself.
Raven almost laughed at the oxymoron. Rupert and Grant walked together, their
heads inclined toward each other as they conversed in hushed tones. The door to
the kitchen swung in, and the group disappeared. It was unusual for guests in a
house such as this to take tea in the kitchen rather than the dining hall. But
considering their barging in, how could the household be ready for so many?

The
witch took over the conversation on the way to the nursery. She fired off
questions faster than the grandmother could answer. “How long has the girl been
like this? What sort of cough does she have? A dry one or productive? What
herbal remedies have been used thus far?”

After
waiting for a breath of silence from the witch, the grandmother answered.
“Drusilla has been ill for over a week. She has only had garlic and chicken
soup. Her cough seems to be dry, as far as I can tell. She’s only just come up
to Grandview from Ipswich today. Her parents own a factory in Ipswich where
they make—”

“That’ll
be all, thank you,” the witch announced, cutting into the grandmother’s prattle
when they reached the door to the nursery.

“But,
can’t I come in? Originally the appointment was for my own herbs, but I felt
that my granddaughter needed—”

“No
need for you to join us, madam.” The witch dug through her carpet bag and
produced a small vial which she handed to the grandmother. “Here you are. I
suggest you take it with some tea right away. Your strength has been waning and
I can tell your rheumatoid is flaring up.”

The
old woman looked suddenly tired. She took the vial in a shaky hand. “You’re
right. It’s been so long since your last visit. I’ve struggled over the past
few days without my medicine.”

Without
a curt nod, the witch entered the child’s room and motioned for Colton and
Raven to pass her and come in. Then she tilted her head to the grandmother.
“With tea and right away. There is no need for you to suffer any longer than
you already have. You may return after the medicine has begun its effect. We
should be nearly done by then.”

The
grandmother began to speak again, but with a smile, the witch shut the door in
the woman’s face.

The
witch leaned her back against the door and scrutinized both Raven and Colton.
Her smile widened as she said. “A young noble playing guardsman and a woman
reaper.”

Raven
swallowed and was tempted to draw her sword at the sheepish look on the woman’s
face.

“Uncommon.
Unusual. About as singular an occurrence as someone sneaking up on me and
throwing a grappling net of spider wire over me.”

Colton
stepped in front of Raven, blocking her from the witch’s glare. Although she
was annoyed with looking at his back, a relief settled on her to be shielded
from the witch. The young doctor asked, “How do you claim to be the Wood Witch
when we met the woman yesterday? You and she are not one and the same.”

Raven
peered over Colton’s shoulder to watch the woman. Her jaw clenched and
unclenched. She pursed her lips before speaking. “I am not the Wood Witch, and
if you were paying attention, you’d have noticed I didn’t claim to be. The
nobles in this town and others in the southern province call me that of their
own accord. I simply chose not to correct them.”

“So
who are you then? For you are not a common herbalist, either, are you?” Colton
asked. His manner reflected the same command the witch had shown in the hallway
with the grandmother.

Raven
smiled at his ability to make the woman squirm.

“I
am a witch and I live in the woods. Alchemy is a broad and varied subject, and
Preston Woods has a multitude of residents. I have not lied.”

Colton
nodded and scratched the blond stubble of his chin. “What is the difference
between you and the Wood Witch whom we encountered?”

The
woman’s face contorted and she spat to the side. “Perverter of alchemy.
Consumer of children. That woman has become all the worst that the science has
to offer. She is a fiend.”

Raven
started. “What do you mean by consumer of children?”

A
half smile played on the woman’s lips. “Have you not heard the stories? That
woman takes a child born with certain talents and steals their abilities.”

Pushing
Colton slightly to the side, Raven stood before the woman. “How so?”

The
woman inclined her head toward the child lying in the bed across the room. The
child slept fitfully, sweat beading her forehead. The ringlets of gold Raven
admired earlier were fallen and ashen looking. The witch started toward the
child’s bed. “I don’t like to speak of such perversions.” She looked Raven up
and down and poked a pointed finger at her chest. "But I will because I
believe you might be able to stop the fiend.”

Raven
resisted the urge to slap the woman’s hand away.

The
witch leaned closer and whispered, “She eats the child’s heart.”

Jack
sat on a stool and held his tea, forgetting to sip it. His foot tapped a beat
on the floor. Why didn’t he go up with them? He leapt to his feet when the
grandmother entered the room. She held a small vial in front of her, a
distracted and cunning smile spread upon her lips.