The Witch Hunter (The Witch Hunter #1)(46)

“No. I mean why he cursed me.”

His words hang in the air, swooping and swirling above me like one of Blackwell’s winged reptiles; and when they land, they pierce me like metal feathers: hard, sharp, burrowing deep.

“Why he cursed you,” I repeat.

Nicholas nods.

“So you think… you think that…” I can’t say it.

He says it for me. “Blackwell is a wizard.”

I’m on my feet before he finishes the word.

“No,” I say. “No, no, no.” I shake my head so hard it hurts. “Blackwell is not a wizard. No. That’s ridiculous. It’s impossible. It’s insane.”

“He trained you, using magic. He marked you, using magic. He created things, using magic; and he, himself, uses magic.” Nicholas marches through the evidence like a barrister before the bar.

“He didn’t do those things,” I say wildly. “It was the other wizards. The ones we captured, the ones we didn’t burn. They did it. Not him.” I cling to this scrap of possibility as I might cling to a scrap of rock to keep from falling off a cliff.

“No.” Nicholas’s voice is soft but firm. “I told you. The only witch or wizard who could perform magic like that is now dead. And they are dead: I witnessed their deaths myself.”

“It’s not true. Not true, not true, not true.” I’m babbling.

“He led a life of lies,” Nicholas says quietly, almost sympathetically. “He would have had to; a young wizard living in a household of Persecutors. At best, they would have sent him away; at worst, well. We know what they do to witches and wizards, don’t we?”

I’m still shaking my head.

“By the time his brother became king, by the time he opened the door to the possibility of reconciliation between Persecutors and Reformists, Blackwell’s choice was made. It wouldn’t be enough for him to be able to finally use his power. He wanted to rule with it. To take control after all the years spent relinquishing it. I believe it’s why he started the plague: to kill the king, to kill Malcolm, to give him the throne.”

The ground shifts; everything shifts. The rock breaks and I’m off the cliff now, falling through the air, plummeting toward the hard earth and an even harder truth:

Blackwell started the plague.

Blackwell killed my parents.

Blackwell is a wizard.

I sink back into the velvet chair, bury my head in my hands. I don’t know how long I sit here, in this red, beating room. It could be minutes; it could be hours.

“What do I need to do?” I say, finally. There’s no point in telling him I can’t find the tablet, that I’m in enough trouble as it is, that helping him will only make things worse for me. There is nothing worse than this.

Nicholas nods. “First thing—and this is very important—you cannot let anyone know you are a witch hunter. I know that George knows. But he can be the only one.”

I frown. “Surely they’ll find out,” I say. “If I get hurt, if I heal, if I’m somehow drawn into a fight… it’s going to be really hard to keep it from them.”

“Then I’ll need you to try even harder to keep it secret,” he says. “Don’t get in any fights, and don’t get hurt.” A pause. “I’ve already told them you’re a witch.”

“What? Why?”

“Because they need a reason why you’re the one to find the tablet. They need a reason why you survived jail. And because you were arrested with those herbs in your pocket, it’s the reason that makes the most sense.”

“And what about Blackwell? That he’s a—” I swallow. I still can’t say it.

“I think it’s best we keep that to ourselves for now. The truth will come out soon enough.”

I nod.

“Second, I’m sending you away. Today. You’re to travel with the others to Stepney Green, to pay a visit to Humbert Pembroke.”

I blink. Humbert Pembroke is the richest man in Anglia, next to the king. He’s a great friend of Blackwell’s and a big supporter of the crown. He’s been a fixture at court for many years, though I haven’t seen him in a while. Why him?

“He’s one of us,” Nicholas says before I can ask.

I’m so surprised by this it takes me a moment to respond.

“Why Stepney Green?” I say. “Is that where the tablet is?”

“No,” Nicholas says. “But you’re not looking for the tablet there. Remember what Veda said? Come third winter’s night, go underground in green. What holds him in death will lead you to thirteen. What you’re looking for in Stepney Green is the thing that will lead you to the tablet, not the tablet itself.”

“That’s all I have to go on?”

“Yes. But it’s enough, at least for now.”

“How?” I say. “It doesn’t tell me anything. Veda said more after that, a lot more. What did it all mean?”

Nicholas hesitates. “There is nothing I can tell you that you will not learn for yourself.”

“So you do know, then. You know what’s going to happen.” It hits me then, what he knows. “You know I’m going to die.”

“We all die,” Nicholas says. “That’s not a prophecy; it’s a certainty.”