The Witch Hunter (The Witch Hunter #1)(35)

“Stop,” I repeat. “I’m serious, George. If you say another word against Caleb, I’ll leave. I don’t care what you offer, or what happens to Nicholas.”

“Elizabeth—”

“Not another word!” I’m shouting now. “Or I swear, I’ll—”

The sound of someone clearing his throat interrupts me. I jerk my head around and there’s John, standing in the doorway. He’s wearing a thick black traveling cloak, a large canvas bag slung over his shoulder, traces of rain still on his face and hair. He must have gotten back and come straight upstairs.

George stands up. “Didn’t hear you come in.”

John shrugs. “Sorry to interrupt. I knocked a few times, though.” He looks at me, then back at George. “Nicholas wants to see you,” he says. “He’s downstairs.”

George moves to the door, eyeing me warily. Probably thinks I’ll try to escape again.

“I thought I’d clean up,” I say.

“I’ll ask Hastings to prepare a bath,” George says. Then he leaves. John lingers, looking at me with the strangest expression. His eyes travel from my hair, which I know is still covered in flour, to my grubby, egg-stained trousers, then to my hand, which is fully healed now and still unwrapped, back to my face.

“We leave at five,” he says. “Be sure to wear something warm.”





WE LEAVE AT FIVE O’CLOCK, right on schedule. Peter and Gareth stay behind; apparently Veda has a fear of all old men, except Nicholas. I wonder why.

Outside, the night is cold and crisp, and I’m grateful for the clothes Hastings brought me to wear. Close-fitting green trousers and a soft white shirt. A long black velvet coat and knee-high black boots. Fifer’s clothes. I knew by the scowl she gave me how much she hated having to give them over.

Nicholas says it’s an hour’s walk to get there, none of it on open road. He knows the path well, directing us around trees and over fallen branches, until we’re deep in the woods. The moon is completely black tonight, not a single sliver of light to guide us. I walk beside George, and while I’m used to walking in the dark, he’s having trouble. He stumbles every few feet, tripping over fallen logs and into potholes.

“A pity Veda can’t see in the daytime.” He pitches forward again, and I grab his arm to keep him from falling. “Honestly, is the bit about the moon really that important?”

“The bit about the moon?” Fifer tsks beside me. “The dark phase of the moon is only the most significant aspect to divination. The time when seers are at their most powerful. And you call it ‘the bit about the moon.’ ”

“Well, not all of us are witches,” he replies.

I feel Fifer’s eyes shift to me when he says it.

“You said the phase lasts three days,” George continues. “Can’t Veda see at any point during that time?”

“Strictly speaking, yes,” Nicholas replies. “But the energy is strongest in the first few hours. We want to take advantage of that. Anyone with any seeing power will be looking in these three days as well. It’s best to be done before the energy starts to wane.”

I knew some of this already. Witch hunters are always sent out during the dark moon. Not just to look for seers; it’s also an ideal time to find witches and wizards performing dark spells and curses. They work best during this time, too. Then it occurs to me.

“They’ll be looking for us, won’t they?” I say.

“Undoubtedly,” Nicholas replies. “But I’ve taken every precaution. Veda’s home has a protective spell on it. No one will be able to see it, nor us once we’re inside. Using Fifer’s help, I’ve extended that spell so we can walk through the woods, virtually undetected.”

“Why take the risk?” I say. “Isn’t there another way to get there? One where we don’t have to walk?” It’s clear he’s having trouble with that himself. He takes slow, cumbersome steps, clutching John’s arm for support. Unlike George, I know that’s not because of the dark.

“There are ways to use magic for travel,” Nicholas says. “Lodestones, primarily, though they are few and far between, not to mention extremely difficult to procure. People have died for a lot less.”

“Died?” I raise my eyebrows.

“Yes. Like from an excess of curiosity,” Fifer mutters.

John shoots her a look. She sticks her tongue out at him.

“Lodestones are formed when lightning strikes certain types of minerals,” Nicholas continues. “Typically they explode, which is why they’re so difficult to find. But sometimes a wizard will attract the lightning himself and try to hold the mineral intact as it hits. Perhaps you can guess what happens next.”

“I can?”

John nudges me and makes an exploding motion with his free hand.

I clap my hand over my mouth, stifling a laugh.

“It’s not funny,” Fifer snaps.

“No,” John agrees. “But what else do you expect when you play with lightning?”

Nicholas gives an indulgent chuckle that turns into a horrible, hacking cough. John and Fifer exchange a worried glance.

“Quite right,” Nicholas finally manages. “But there are other restrictions as well. A single lodestone can only be used once, and by two people at most. We’d need six to manage the trip here and back. I don’t think I’ve come across six of them in my lifetime.” He smiles at me. “Don’t worry, Elizabeth. You’re safe with us.”