Chronicles of Steele: Raven 3: Episode 3 (6 page)

“What
the child needs is a tutor to help him learn to control the power he holds. I
suppose I could tutor him. It would force me to relocate to New Haven, but I’ve
got nothing tying me here, for certain.” The witch turned toward Monroe and
Raven as they crunched through the snow on their approach.

Jack
and Colton’s smiles became more genuine. Rupert continued to grimace. He strode
into their path. “Great. Now that we’re all present, I suggest we get out of
this wretched cold and get a blasted night’s rest.”

Guilt
panged her chest. Her useless run into the woods had kept everyone waiting in
the cold.

The
same open carriage pulled by a white horse started up the hill to the manor.
Everyone stared in confusion. The witch cackled and rubbed her hands together.
“I’ve got all of you wondering what sort of magic I used to call the taxi,
don’t I?”

The
same reflection of confusion ran through the men as Raven felt.

The
witch continued, “Well, it must be ten-thirty, since I told the cabbie to
return to collect me at that time. I’m surprised your stunt earlier didn’t keep
him away. He probably likes the taste of my gold too much.”

They
followed her through the short snow pack. It had begun to ice over. Grant’s
eyes rounded her in a questioning, worried glance. She quickly darted her eyes
from his. She didn’t need his pity or his help.

The
cabbie gathered up his reins tighter as the group approached the cart. With a
wave of her hand, the witch dismissed his apprehension. “I’m bringing this lot
with me, Max. Open the back.”

In
a hesitant leap from his driver’s seat, the coachman rushed to the rear of the
carriage and let down the gate. “I’ve got room for only one of you at the front
with Marietta. The rest of you will need to sit in the bed of my coach. It’s
for holding supplies, baggage, and cargo—not people, so I’m sorry for your
discomfort.”

Grant
nodded toward Raven. “Take the seat. The men will sit in the rear.”

Raven’s
brows knit together and she opened her mouth to protest. Monroe set a hand on
her shoulder. He nodded and his calm expression made her acquiesce. She pulled
herself up to the coach seat next to the witch. The woman smelled of strange
and foreign spices, similar to cinnamon and ginger, but a little sharper. Once
Raven sat, the witch pulled a brown woolen blanket over her lap to share. The
blanket added the smell of leather and horses to the mix.

The
cart swayed while each of the four men hopped into the back of the cart. When
the cabbie returned, he cleared his throat and spit before pulling onto the
bench seat. The white horse woke to the pull on the reins and started forward.
Between the warmth of the blanket and the steady rhythm of the cart as it
rolled down the cobbles, Raven found herself wanting to doze off again. The
day’s stresses weighed her down with such heaviness sleep could be the only
cure.

Her
chest felt hollow and more broken than when she’d first met Gregory’s wife.
Maybe the same hole remained but with the new heartaches, it had grown a little
bigger. Her father’s death had created a hole she’d hoped to fill with
Gregory’s love, but now that hope had been taken from her. Did she have the
right to be mad at him for not waiting for her? No, it had been too much to
ask.

The
witch put an arm around Raven’s shoulder and hummed a tune. The lullaby had an
eerie but light tone to it—something happy which held promise. Though it didn’t
fill the emptiness inside her, it made her ache a little less. Raven wondered
if the woman was bewitching her. Somehow she didn’t care.

The
horse’s hooves clopped with a hollow sound as they crossed the deserted bridge.
A grey haze hung over Ipswich and made the gaslight in town seem more yellow
than amber. It mixed with the salty air and created a unique odor with the tar
mixed in the street’s cobbles. Even the fallen snow hadn’t muted the scents.

After
passing the area where the crew had left the boat, the cart continued toward
the industrial district. A harsh layer of soot covered the walkways and
buildings in a black film. Homeless vagrants huddled together for warmth over
fire-filled metal barrels. The change in scenery woke Raven as she searched the
area for possible dangers. Someone dumped liquid toward the street from a second
story window. She hoped it wasn’t a chamber pot. Surely this section of town
had indoor plumbing.

When
they reached an area of Ipswich where the gas lampposts became fewer, the coach
pulled to a stop. The coachman hopped from his side of the carriage and
traversed to the other side. Raven jumped down before he could offer a hand.
His eyes narrowed, before he lightened his expression and took Marietta’s hand.
She lit from the carriage with lady-like grace, chancing a glance in the
direction of the back of the cart, where the men were disembarking as well.

The
snow on the streets had all but cleared, and the rest remained black with soot.
Where they’d stopped, the buildings stood close together with narrow alleys
between them. No one stood on the street like they had in the earlier section.
Raven’s eyes darted in every direction, straining to check the shadows for any
sign of life.

The
red haired witch had already taken Colton’s arm and inclined her head toward
the cabbie. “Thank you, Max. Could I ask you to come in the morning at about
seven-thirty? I will be travelling with my guests to Cirrus Mountain and would
like you to take us as close as possible before we need to negotiate the
remainder on foot.”

Max
narrowed his eyes at Colton. “Yes, milady. But I’d rather go no farther than
Corsair, if possible.”

She
nodded and guided Colton toward the brick structure, dismissing Max with a wave
of her hand. “That will be fine.”

The
steel door had three locks the witch produced keys for. Raven assessed the
structure and took note of the lack of first story windows. “Which floor will
we be staying on?”

Marietta
eyed her and nodded upward. “I own the entire building, but the top two floors
are my laboratory, and the first floor is my shop. My quarters are on the second
story, and there are four bedrooms.”

Raven
nodded and took a few steps to the right. Monroe followed her lead and headed
to the left. Both the reapers checked for a means of escape. Raven’s side of
the building sat next to a shorter structure, consisting of one story. The
alley was about three meters wide. It would be possible to jump from a window
to the roof of the building if escape became necessary. The river backed the
building. It might be possible to jump from a window in the rear into the river.
Monroe reached the group again a moment before Raven.

He
nodded her direction. “There’s a fire escape on the other side.”

Raven
nodded back. There was a means of escape from each side of the building. This
was a safe location for staying the night provided no one was stuck on the
first floor or the upper floors except when on the left side of the building.
The situation looked promising.

The
small retinue continued after Marietta. She turned the handle of a lamp vein on
the wall and punched the button to light the fuse. Instantly, the lights in the
downstairs shop brightened up every corner. She swept her arms in a smile and
twirled in a circle. “My humble abode. Please make yourselves at home. I have a
kitchen down here, and the icebox has a few victuals within. Upstairs the
mattresses are straw-stuffed and lying on the floor, but they are preferable to
sleeping outside. I will be as gracious a host as possible.”

Raven
stepped toward her, spying the spiral staircase to the second floor. “Is this
the only way up or down?”

Marietta
laughed. “Unless you want to use the fire escape on the outside, yes.”

No
one felt at home. The small group huddled, refusing to spread out, and
continued en mass toward the kitchen. Marietta preceded them and turned the
knob to light the burner. The icebox had been recently stocked with a large
block of fresh ice, and there was room for little else in the small fridge.
Marietta pulled out a plate of cheese and a ham. Then she reached over her head
into a cupboard and took hold of some quick porridge. After measuring the
amount she needed and the water, she set the pot on the wood stove and turned
toward the group.

Rupert,
Colton, and Monroe had taken three of the chairs at the small table in the
kitchen. Grant and Raven remained standing, neither of them heading for the
last chair. The last thing Raven wanted to do was let him be gentlemanly or
magnanimous, so she refused to make eye contact with him. Instead she remained
standing at the counter and set her eyes on watching the witch flit about the
kitchen.

Marietta
turned about. “It seems I only have a few items, but I can put them together
into an edible dish with enough for everyone.”

Colton
reassured her. “Whatever you are willing to serve us, we’ll be grateful for.”

She
gushed and squeezed his shoulder.

Raven
rolled her eyes and abhorred her uselessness. Even though she had been making
meals for her father since she was nine years old, she felt awkward asking to
help. Because she was taught to cook by her father, her technique was rough
compared to just about any woman she’d watch prepare a meal.

Rupert’s
leg bobbed under the table in an anxious manner. He eyed Grant. “So what is our
plan?”

Grant
stepped toward the table and leaned on the top. He met the eyes of each man and
nodded for Raven to draw closer. “We will be making for Mount Cirrus. Where
we’ll find the witch is uncertain.”

Marietta
interrupted, standing over top of Colton with a hunk of cheese in her hand. “I
know where the witch will be heading and am willing to lead you there.”

Grant
nodded. “Right. And we thank you for your help.”

She
smiled and danced back toward her stove.

“So
we have some idea of where we’re going. The witch has the power to
incapacitate–both Raven and I have been put out of commission by a blue light
from the woman’s hands. Monroe has the theory that the woman is stronger in her
own home than she would be on the outside.”

Marietta
tsked. “Actually, Cirrus is a bewitched mountain. She will be just as strong
there as she was in her own home, possibly stronger,” Marietta called over her
shoulder.

Silence
swallowed the room as each person at the table assessed what that meant. The
oblivious woman continued to slice the cheese and meat, adding each to the
boiling pot on the gas burner. In the quiet she began to hum.

Monroe
cleared his throat while his eyes darted between Grant and Raven. “What sort of
spell did the witch use to debilitate you?”

Grant’s
expression turned grave as he stared at the table. “I couldn’t move. No matter
how much I attempted to get my muscles to move, I sat there frozen. I couldn’t
even blink my eyes.”

Raven
nodded when Monroe shot her a questioning glance.

Grant
continued, “It was worse than that, though. The witch put a voice to all my
doubts and fears. Her words stabbed me, and the thought that Raven could hear
them, too, made me grossly ashamed.”

Raven
slapped her hands on the table. “What do you mean, she voiced
your
fears? I never heard her say a word about you. She only poked her fingers in my
open wounds.”

His
eyes widened. “But the words weren’t in my head. I heard them aloud. I know I
did.”

With
a curt shake of her head, Raven said, “I heard it audibly, too. Unless you
killed your father, she was talking
about me
.”

Monroe
leapt to his feet. “You did not kill your father, Raven. Why do you feel as
though you did?”

Grant
held his hand in the air to stop Monroe, and his grey eyes locked onto Raven’s.
“My father is alive and living in New Haven. I heard her say nothing about your
father.”

The
red-haired witch chuckled as she turned from the stove with wooden bowls. She
set them on the table. “Sounds like you both were taken in by the spell of fear
and shame. Nothing incapacitates a person to inaction more than those two
feelings.”

Raven
shot a menacing look at Marietta who never returned her glare.

The
woman continued back and forth from the counter to the table as she continued
her prattling. “Yep, blue light is the sign of confusion. She probably used the
tongue of the elves. Those words twist into any language for the target’s
hearing. It’s dark alchemy, and I’ve never used it myself. It costs too much.
The bearer of the curse ends up taking into their own body some of the same
sort of lactic acid that builds up in the victim. It can cause all muscular
dysfunction in the witch if it’s used often.”

As
the woman ladled a portion of her gruel into Monroe’s bowl, he looked up at
her. “Is there a way to defeat the curse or render it useless?”

“Of
course. You must counteract the curse. Don’t fight it by struggling against the
immobility. Speak affirmations to the curse—in your mind of course, since you
are unable to actually verbalize.”

Relief
washed over Raven, and she saw the reflection of her release in Grant’s loss of
tension. He almost melted to the floor in a puddle before he straightened. “It
makes perfect sense now that we know how the curse is formed. The method of
counteracting it seems too…obvious.”