The Raven Spell (Conspiracy of Magic #1)(73)
Then, from the corner of his eye, Ian spotted Edwina. She’d cast a spell to draw the rain and fog. Well done, lass.
She’d done a proper job of it. The mist swallowed everyone in seconds so he couldn’t see two feet in front of him, though he knew Nick was still there. He dodged right, feeling his way against the courtyard wall. He could hear men rushing through the corridor, but he’d lost track of Edwina. He called out for her to know she was okay, but it was Nick who answered, rising out of the mist only inches away on his left. Seeing the bloodlust in his eyes reinvigorated Ian’s memory of the man found lying facedown in the alley in a pool of his own blood. The fear Ian had felt reliving the man’s final moments—the terror, the degradation, the helplessness—all surged within him in an overwhelming desire to live.
Nick grinned, knowing he had him pinned and hidden from view by the fog. He could still stick the blade in and slip away unseen, letting the blood wash away with the rain. Nick’s vile thoughts showed on his face as he drew his arm back for a roundhouse slice meant to sever Ian’s carotid artery. Ian raised his forearm to defend himself, cringing in anticipation as the rain spit in his face, when a large bird plunged out of the mist.
The strike came swift and brutal. A raven, with wings as black as coal, dropped out of the fog, lunging with its claws out. It tore at Nick’s face, his buttons, his plaid coat. The dandy ducked and covered his head with one arm, but the raven found the vulnerable skin on the back of his neck and tore open a gash that no magical talisman could have deflected. The bloodletting forced Nick to retreat as he swatted his arm and cursed at the mad bird. He jabbed with his knife, stabbing at the air, but the raven only swooped out of reach and circled around for another attack.
Ian watched, awestruck at the viciousness of the bird’s attack. Where had the raven come from? What had drawn it to the fight? While Nick tried to defend himself with another wild, aimless thrust, Ian grabbed his wrist midswing and slammed his hand against the courtyard wall to loosen the knife. They wrestled for control of the blade, headbutting and crashing against the bricks, as a pair of glowing lanterns filled with pixie light surfaced from the fog on the ends of long sticks. Two officers in top hats emerged from the gray mist a second later, pulling Ian and Nick apart and kicking the knife away after it finally fell loose.
“Hold him,” Ian ordered when he saw Constable Bottomfield among the men. “He’s the one the police are looking for. The Brick Lane Slasher. It’s him.”
The constables stood Nick up and secured him in shackles while Ian swam through the fog, calling out for Edwina when he did not spot her in the courtyard. He looked up to the second floor, where he saw the misty silhouette of the raven. It cawed and flapped its wings, eyeing him from atop the lamppost. The rain stopped and the enchanted fog began to thin. The bird leaped into the air. He watched in awe as it circled over the rooftop until a familiar voice called out his name.
“I told them it was you.” Chief Inspector Singh stepped over a mud puddle, holding the hem of her skirt above her ankles.
“I take it your wee spiders jumped,” Ian replied.
“About a foot.” Singh blew a stream of air into the last of the fog, making the mist dissipate almost as quickly as it had arrived. When the whole of the courtyard was clear again, Ian saw the faces of the people who lived in the tenement. Babies crying, children wide-eyed, men trying hard to hide their fear from themselves and their wives. Nick was flanked by a pair of constables warning him he was under arrest, while the remainder of his gang of thieves were frog-marched back through the passageways where they’d attempted to escape. But nowhere did he see either of the Blackwood sisters.
Singh held out her hand and asked to see the gold pocket watch, which Ian reluctantly provided. “How does this thing work again?” she asked. He pushed the pin at the side and she watched the cogs and flywheels whir into motion, scrunching her face up in confusion when they stopped. “So where are the others?” she asked. “The spiders indicated there were two more witches in this courtyard besides you before we arrived. And the ghost boy, though he’s a little past being a concern.”
Ian’s first instinct was to lie and say he didn’t know. He still didn’t for sure, but he could make a decent guess. “They left.”
“Impossible. We were watching. I’ve got men searching the flats, but there’s no way they could have left except through the two exits. Unless they went over the wall.” She scanned the courtyard to see if it was remotely possible, then closed his watch unconvinced. “I understand why magic was used in public against this lot. Hell’s bells and a bucket of blood, I’d have done much worse, if it had been me.” She waited until he looked her in the eye again when she added, “But whoever the other two are, they still need to come in and make a statement.”
She’d spoken as if he were one of her subordinates, convincing him to bring an informant in for questioning. For his sake and theirs. He supposed he owed Singh that much, but he was uncertain of how much to tell.
“That bloody bird!” Nick Abernathy complained nonstop about the raven as they escorted him out of the courtyard. “Nearly scratched my eyes out, it did. Great big thing with claws like dockers’ hooks. It’s that bloody dangerous bird you should be after.”
Singh watched him go with a shrug. “You all right? Any giant birds try and peck your eyes out?”