The Raven Spell (Conspiracy of Magic #1)(21)

The hairy thing carried a satchel across his body. He ignored their questions and removed the leather bag as he inched even closer to Ian, whose head rested at an awkward angle on the pillow. The creature squinted and reached a hand out to touch the sleeping man’s arm. Edwina had never met one, but she believed him to be a hearth elf of some kind. At least he fit the description she’d read about in her spell books. Scraggly and wild, with traces of soot on his jacket, face, and hands. But what was he doing in their home in the city?

“That’s quite far enough,” she warned.

“As you wish, milady.” The hairy being bowed his head, though he continued to stare with animated concern toward Ian. “But there isn’t much time left. If the witch sister is able, she must do her magic. And then I can do mine.” He rubbed his hands together, fretting. “Or what mind he has left will be lost to us both.”

Mary and Edwina exchanged a quick sisterly look that expressed an entire conversation between them. Mary set the cup of tea down and bent over Ian’s chest. She checked once more with Edwina, then put one palm on the man’s chest and the other on his head. “I’m not sure what will come out,” she said. “If he were closer to death, it would be easier, but at least he’s unconscious.” The creature squealed in distress. “Very well,” she said and pushed.

Two small orbs of blue light rose up from the man’s mouth, though the energy of one appeared to be enveloped by shadowy, cancerous-looking tendrils. Edwina was accustomed to seeing her sister’s magic done at the hospital, where the elderly and infirm often succumbed to sickness. It had proved the most humane way for Mary to honor her unique magic, taking only from those who naturally crossed the threshold of death. But in all that time, Edwina had never seen anything like what arose now.

“Quickly,” said the little elf. “Take the foul one. Take it out. Now!”

Mary snatched the dark orb of light in her hand. The shadowy tendrils trailed out of Ian’s mouth before evaporating into gray mist. The second orb, as small as a shiny blue pearl, floated above his body, then gently settled back into his mouth once Mary clasped her hands over the damaged orb she’d trapped. She blew her spell over it, shrinking the shadowy light down to a solid sphere. This time, however, the result did not shimmer and gleam. Instead, what sat in her hand was a stone as dull as a spent cinder of coal. Used up. Dead. Useless.

“His body rejected the memory,” Mary said, examining the remains. “That’s the only explanation I can find. But at least it’s out now.”

Seized with guilt over the result of her botched magic, Edwina held a hand to her mouth. “How dreadful.”

“Never mind that now, milady.” The creature put himself between Mary and the unconscious Ian. “What’s done is done. I will make amends.”

“What are you going to do?” Edwina asked.

“I carry what he needs. You will see.”

“Do you think it wise to keep meddling?” Mary retreated from the bed, pleading with her sister to stop the creature from doing any more damage. “The man will end up in an institution.”

Edwina considered interfering lest the poor man’s mind be harmed beyond repair, but her intuition made her hold back. She was curious about the hearth elf and what sort of magic he was capable of. “Maybe there’s something he can do,” she said, nodding her consent. “Go on, then.”

The creature sat on his haunches atop the pillow. There, he patted his long, slender fingers against Ian’s shoulder before digging in his satchel and pulling out a strip of tartan cloth. The weave was a muted green and gold with thin lines of purple and red crisscrossing through the fabric. The combination put Edwina in mind of winter fields of heather and gorse blooming in the north. The creature draped the cloth over Ian’s chest, tucking it in under his chin, as if putting a child to sleep. Satisfied, he made a slight smacking noise with his mouth before crouching and resting his chin on his knees. He reached one hairy arm out, laying his hand against the man’s forehead, then closed his eyes. A slight humming noise emanated from deep in the elf’s chest.

At first, Edwina couldn’t be sure her eyes weren’t playing tricks on her as a faint golden light appeared to radiate between the creature’s hand and the man’s skin. Loving and tender, really, the way it circulated between them. Of course, she’d never seen it done before, but she’d lay odds the exchange was a form of tutelary magic the imp was performing. The notion calmed her, thinking of how softly the spellwork between them glowed. What creature—man, woman, or beast—didn’t long for such a connection to another living soul? After all he’d been through, she hoped the light would prove a balm for the unfortunate man and ease his suffering. She would very much like to see his eyes open to the world with less anger toward her than before, though she fully admitted the act would require a double dose of forgiveness on his part.

Another two minutes passed before the little fellow came out of his trance and broke his connection with the man. “It is done,” he said, opening his eyes. The cost of performing the magic reflected in his tired voice.

“What’s done?” Mary asked, fidgeting with the washcloth in her hands.

“Don’t you see?” Edwina said. “The little one is a guardian of some kind.”

The creature nodded. “He will remember again.”