The Witch Hunter (The Witch Hunter #1)(47)

“Don’t mince words,” I snap.

“Elizabeth, this is your prophecy. How it plays out is entirely in your hands. I can’t tell you what to do or what to find, because I don’t know. All I can do is put you in the right place at the right time and trust that you’ll know it when you see it.”

I feel a sudden surge of anger. At putting my fate in the hands of a child, into a string of meaningless words.

“I realize this seems far-fetched to you,” Nicholas says.

“That’s not quite the word I would use,” I mutter.

“I’ve been deciphering prophecies for a long time,” Nicholas replies. “Veda’s for as long as she could talk, countless others’ before her. Some are simple, some complex. Some are more riddle than vision. But regardless, all prophecies require a measure of conjecture.”

There’s a soft tapping on the door, and John steps inside. He’s dressed in a heavy black coat, his bag slung over his shoulder.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” he says. “But we’re ready to go. I need to check on you one last time before we do.”

“We’re nearly done,” Nicholas says. John nods, glances at me, then closes the door.

I spread my hands. “So I go to Stepney Green. Look for the thing that will lead me to the tablet. Then what?”

Nicholas smiles. “I cannot tell you that, either. But the answer will present itself in time.”

I bite back my frustration. “Is there anything you can tell me?”

“Use your judgment. That’s very important. Do what feels right to you, in whatever circumstance you find yourself in, even if it seems improbable or even impossible. And have faith. Everything else will follow.”





AN HOUR LATER PETER SEES us off. It’s a six-hour walk to Humbert’s home in Stepney Green. We can’t ride; it would call too much attention to ourselves, make it harder to hide if we came upon unwanted company. It’s just as well. Nicholas has only one horse anyway.

Peter rubs his face with both hands and sighs. “Stay off the main roads as much as possible. Stick together, but don’t travel in a group. John, you lead the way. George can bring up the rear. Cover your tracks. If there’s any sign of trouble, or you think you’re being followed…”

“Father.” John places his arm on Peter’s shoulder. “We’ll be fine.”

Peter nods and lets out a series of short whistles. An enormous falcon swoops down from the sky and settles on John’s outstretched arm.

“Send him back here the moment you arrive at Humbert’s,” Peter says. “If you don’t, I’ll assume something’s happened. But if you don’t send him and nothing’s happened…” He looks at John sternly. “I swear to you, John Paracelsus Raleigh, when I’m through with you, you’ll wish something had.”

George gapes at John. “Your middle name is Paracelsus?”

“Shut it,” John snaps. He turns to Peter, flushing slightly. “I’ll send Horace. Everything will be fine. Please try not to worry.”

“Hmph,” Peter grunts. He wraps John in a tight embrace, patting his back softly. Then he releases him and looks at us. “We’re taking Nicholas to Harrow so the healers there can watch over him. Once he’s settled and we see Avis and Veda to a safe house, I’ll meet you at Humbert’s. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

He unbolts the door and pushes it open, a flurry of snowflakes rushing into the hall. The first snow of the season. I pull my coat tightly around me and step outside.

“Be safe,” Peter says, his face still etched with worry. “If you see anything, anything at all, just run.”

The four of us trudge across the wide gravel path and the grass, into the woods. Fifer and John walk ahead of us, their heads bent toward each other, whispering. All the while Nicholas’s voice is whispering in my ear: Blackwell is a wizard. Blackwell is a wizard.

Blackwell is a wizard.

“What’s with you?” George falls into step beside me. “You’ve barely said three words since you left Nicholas’s room.” A pause. “Did he put a spell on you? You know. To keep you from getting all—” He mimes choking and stabbing motions with his hands.

I burst into a fit of giggles then. I can’t help it. Maybe it’s nerves. Maybe I’ve gone mad. The whole world has gone mad; seems right I should go down with it. My laughter echoes through the trees, the only sound in the otherwise silent forest. John spins around and flashes me a grin. Fifer punches him in the arm and he turns back to her, a scowl replacing his smile.

I compose myself. “No. I’m just… you know. I don’t know.”

“Mmm. Clarity is vastly overrated.”

I shoot him a look. “You know what I mean. It’s going to be hard enough finding this tablet without having to hide who I am from everyone.”

George nods. “Aye. But it’s important. Nicholas wouldn’t ask it if it weren’t.”

“Why? You know and you aren’t getting all—” I mimic his choking and stabbing motions. “Why does it matter if they know?”

He squints up ahead, in the direction of John and Fifer. It looks as if they’re arguing now; Fifer is gesturing furiously while John shakes his head. She glances back at me and scowls.