Undertow (Whyborne & Griffin #8.5)(25)

His shoes tapped on the floor, and he ducked beneath the curtain moments later. Heat flooded my face—I’d forgotten he was so close. Had he heard the things we’d said to each other? Would he sneer at me in disgust? Tell anyone else?

Tell Dr. Whyborne?

Mr. Quinn appeared unruffled. He bowed to Persephone. “How may I serve?”

“Do you have a ship?” she asked.

“One can be procured immediately,” he said. I hoped his assurance stemmed from the fact one of the librarians already owned a boat of some sort, and not from any plan of acquiring one forcefully.

She nodded. “You fought against the Fideles in July. Are you prepared to fight again?”

Mr. Quinn looked as though she’d offered him a treat. “The librarians are at your disposal, Widdershins.”

“The Fideles have taken a ship, and intend to use foul magic against my people.” There was a commanding note in her tone I’d heard only once before, the night she’d fought the old chieftess in the grand foyer. Something stirred in me to hear it, and I found myself sitting straighter. “We will find them, and we will stop them.”

“At once. Rest here, and I shall return the moment we’re ready to move.” Mr. Quinn bowed again and vanished back through the curtain.

I knew Persephone had little choice, and yet… “You’re injured.”

“Yes.” She put a hand to her side with a wince. “But we ketoi can recover from that which would kill a human. It’s the reason I was given to the sea in the first place. Brother and I nearly died at birth, and the hybrid working in the house wished to save at least one of us.”

“One for the land, and one for the sea,” I murmured.

“Yes.” Her hand fell from her side to cover mine. “But I’ll need you with me, Maggie. To lean on.”

I wanted to be there for her. I wanted her to rely on me. But… “I’m not a fighter. Not like you or Dr. Putnam-Barnett. I’m afraid I’d only be in the way.”

“There are many kinds of strength, cuttlefish.” She ran her fingers along my jaw, catching my chin gently. “Many ways to fight. And you’ll never be in the way.”

She kissed me, soft and sweet. When our lips parted, I said, “O-of course, then. I’ll come. Only…what about you? Will you be able to fight off the effects of the mask again?” I frowned. “Actually, I’m not certain how you were able to in the first place.”

“The same way my brother guards his mind against the dweller in the deeps.” She tapped the side of her head. “Sorcery is an act of will. My will was stronger.”

“I see,” I said, though I wasn’t entirely sure I did. “Should we go find Mr. Quinn?”

“Yes.” She slid off the table, steadying herself on my arm as she did so. “Then we shall make these Fideles regret ever setting foot in Widdershins.”

*

A few hours later, I clung to the rail of a small ship with one hand and Persephone with the other, as it powered through the waves. The wind tore at my hair and my tattered dress; I surely looked like a madwoman. A belt hung around my waist, to support the sheathed knife Mr. Quinn had given me.

A storm had blown in just as we got underway. Lightning danced and crashed at our heels, and the white foam flew from the waves. Rain spat from the heavens. I soon shivered from its icy touch.

Persephone seemed unaffected by the cold and wet—which I supposed was only natural. Her gaze remained trained on the horizon, her mouth set in a grim line.

According to Persephone, the most likely place for the ritual would be near a reef. Something to do with the arcane lines of power, flowing across both land and sea, to form the maelstrom beneath Widdershins. The reef, apparently, lay along one such line, which made it a good place to cast spells.

Mr. Quinn frowned. “They seek to use Widdershins against itself. Is there no way to prevent it?”

She laughed softly, but without humor. “If there was, the maelstrom wouldn’t have needed my brother and I to exist.”

Mr. Quinn only nodded and withdrew to consult with the man captaining the ship, a rather unsavory looking sort who was apparently related to one of the librarians. When he was gone, I said, “What did you mean by that?”

Her arm tightened around my waist. Ostensibly, she leaned against me for support, and Mr. Quinn hadn’t looked at us askance. Perhaps he hadn’t overheard our conversation in the library after all. “Widdershins—the arcane vortex—collects things. People.” She flashed me a smile, shark’s teeth gleaming in the night. “Perhaps it brought you to me.”

Heat scalded my skin, and I shook my head quickly. “I’m just a secretary.”

“No one is just anything.” Her hair threaded through my locks; the sensation odd, but not unpleasant. “As for what I meant—”

“There!” cried the librarian on lookout. “Straight ahead!”

Persephone left off and peered ahead. Light appeared across the plunging waves, brilliant beams illuminating the ocean all around the dark bulk of a whaling steamer. I squinted through the rain and flying foam, but we were still too far away to make out any details.

“You need to see this, sir,” the lookout said, voice trembling. He passed his binoculars to Mr. Quinn. Mr. Quinn took a brief look, then handed them to Persephone. She turned them over, baffled.