Spellbreaker (Spellbreaker Duology, #1)(69)
There. For a moment she thought it was a spiritual spell, for she heard it, faintly, like a mosquito close to the ear. But as she neared two identical statues standing across the path from each other, she spied glimmering physical runes on each of them.
The barely audible sound made sense. She’d undone an enchantment like this once before, a few years ago. The two sister spells formed an invisible barrier that if broken, let out a horrible noise. It was an alarm, likely activated by darkness as the suction spells were.
If she set off this alarm, she didn’t think she’d be able to run far enough to hide before someone found her. Reaching one hand out carefully, ensuring her fingers never passed the inside of the rune, she loosened one end. Then the opposite end. A small loop in the center, then the bottom, until the spell let out a weak croak and vanished. She needn’t worry about the sister rune—without anything to connect to, it would be harmless.
Still, Elsie held her breath when she passed between the statues, sighing in relief when nothing happened. Her chest felt too warm beneath her corset, but when she searched for other alarm spells, she found none. Nerves, then.
Approaching the building, Elsie glanced up at the nearest window, which started about a foot above her head. If the Cowls were correct, there was one spell left—one that forbade passage through all ground-floor windows from the outside. Once she eliminated that, the Cowls could sneak into the library, copy the spells they needed, and flee. If she lingered long enough, would she see one of them?
And what explanation will you give Ogden if you’re not in your bed come morning?
Given the assault he’d suffered, he was liable to contact the authorities at once. Which would require her to answer questions best left unasked. No, she needed to be quick.
Retreating into the garden, Elsie tipped over a pot, dumping out its soil and flowers. She froze over the mass, hearing footsteps nearby. She listened closely to them until they faded and her calves burned from her prolonged squat. Heaving the pot up, she carried it back to the window and stood on it.
The spell came alive beneath her fingers, beckoning her. Elsie worked with both hands, having to jump up twice to reach the top of the rune. She felt exposed, and sweat slicked the curve of her spine. When the spell broke apart, it took every ounce of discipline she had not to bolt away. She needed to replace the pot in case the Cowls’ man did not come until tomorrow night. She couldn’t give anyone a reason to be suspicious, else she’d have to do this all over again. And if her work was discovered, there would be patrolling guards.
Feeling oddly stronger than she had moments before, she carried the pot back and shoved dirt into it, heedless of what it did to her dress. The unrooted flowers were a mess, but she stuck them into their beds, anyway. No one would notice unless they looked closely. She swept loose soil into manicured grass and crept, with painstaking slowness, out the exact way she had come.
As far as she knew, no one followed her.
Elsie stepped out of the way as Squire Hughes exited the post office. Not out of deference, but because she was sure the man would simply mow her over if she did not. He neither held the door for her nor made eye contact. He simply charged past, nose held high, and headed toward his horse, which Elsie noted was newly respelled.
Biting the back of her tongue, Elsie slipped inside the post office. One of the post dogs whined in the back, and Martha Morgan shuffled around a few letters in the cubbies against the wall behind the desk.
“Good afternoon, Martha,” Elsie said.
Martha peeked over her shoulder. “Oh, Miss Camden! One moment, if you would.” She finished organizing the small stack of envelopes in her hand before giving Elsie her full attention. “How can I help you?”
“I need to send a telegram to Brixton, addressed to Mr. Allen Baker.” She unfolded the note in her hands where she’d written Ogden’s instructions. “The piece will be ready tomorrow.” Elsie fished out the appropriate coin and laid it on the desk.
Martha scrawled the message down. “I’ll send it straightaway.”
“Thank you.” Elsie folded the paper and turned for the door.
“Miss Camden.” The voice came from Mr. Green, the postmaster, as he strode in from the house connected to the post office. “Good timing. I’ve just received a telegram for you.”
Martha smiled and lifted her eyebrows, as if to comment on the timing, before heading to the back room.
“For Mr. Ogden?” Elsie clarified.
“For you.” He handed her the envelope.
Elsie did not like opening her private post in public, but curiosity got the better of her. Hoping it might be from Bacchus, she opened the brief message.
Her heart skipped. Not Bacchus. Juniper Down.
Elsie. We were wrong. Someone is looking for you. Come as soon as you can.
The message was only that, and yet it was everything.
She must have blanched, for Mr. Green asked, “Is everything all right?”
Elsie nodded dumbly. “It’s . . . perfect. Thank you.”
And then she ran from the post office as though on the wings of a storm.
“Ogden!” Elsie screamed the moment she rushed into the house. “Mr. Ogden!” She turned around the corner and nearly ran into Emmeline. It was a short distance from the post office to the studio, but Elsie wheezed like she’d run miles. “Where is he?”