The Witch Hunter (The Witch Hunter #1)(75)

“But you can’t help me,” I say. “And if something happens to you while I’m in there, I won’t be able to help you.”

“Let us worry about that.” She starts toward the door. “We should probably go and get ready.”

“You go ahead,” I tell her. “There’s something I need to do first.”

I go to Humbert’s desk, pull out a pen and some paper. While I may not be able to keep the others from going to Blackwell’s with me, I can at least make sure they get out.

When I’m done, I fold up the pages neatly and seal them, dripping melted wax over the edges and pressing Humbert’s signet, a falcon, into the pool of crimson.

I find Bridget. “Give this note to Humbert the moment we leave,” I say. “It’s very important. Do you understand?”

“Yes, miss, I do,” she says, alarmed at my urgency. “I understand.”

“Good. And make sure Horace doesn’t go anywhere. Humbert’s going to need him.”



Several hours later we’re all in Humbert’s stable, loading our bags onto four of his horses. We’re dressed in Humbert’s servants’ livery, pale gray trousers and tunic with an orange falcon embroidered across the front.

“It’s a bit suspicious, your riding at night,” Humbert says. “So if anyone stops you, tell them I’m expecting a shipment of fruit from Iberia at dawn, and you’re going to port to wait for it.”

“Fruit?” George says, climbing onto the mounting block. He’s so short he can’t get on his horse without it.

“Of course! How else would I get oranges, limes, and lemons in the dead of winter?” He slaps his hand on John’s shoulder. “Just got one last week. It’s a good thing, eh?”

John gives him a weak smile and climbs onto his horse.

“There’s an inn at Westferry called the Nutshell. My servants always stay there. Ask for Ian. He’ll give you a couple of rooms and not ask too many questions.”

Humbert leads us outside. It’s only four o’clock, but night is already falling. I can already see the moon, a shining crescent in the dusk. As we prepare to ride off, I feel his hand on my arm. I turn to him and he motions for me to come closer. I lean down.

“What is it?”

“Do you still have the ring?” he whispers.

“Yes.” I feel embarrassed about packing it. It’s probably valuable, and I suppose he’s realized if I die, he’ll never get it back. I reach for my bag. “It’s right here, just give me a minute to find it—”

“No.” He puts his hand over mine and squeezes. “I would like it very much if you wore it at the masque,” he says. “Can you do that?”

“Yes, I suppose so,” I say. “But why?”

“It’s a lucky ring,” he says. “I know, it’s an old man’s silly superstition. But I would feel better if I knew you had it on.”

He’s right; it is a silly superstition. Even still, I’ll take all the luck I can get.

“Okay. I’ll wear it,” I say. “Thank you.” He gives my hand one last squeeze and I’m about to ride off when it dawns on me. “Hang on,” I say. “You can hear me. I’ve been whispering this whole time, but you can hear me. Can’t you?” I stare at him as it sinks in. “You’re not deaf at all, are you?”

Humbert winks. “Oh, I don’t know. We’re all a little hard of hearing in our own way, aren’t we?” He laughs at the shocked look on my face. “It’s a wonderful disadvantage to have, I’ll tell you. One learns so much being deaf. You’d be surprised at what people will say when they think no one is listening.”

Trust the one who sees as much as he hears. Fifer thought that was about Schuyler, and it was—but it was also about Humbert. I wonder if she knows.

I shake my head and laugh, too. I can’t help it.

“Our little secret?”

I nod.

“Good girl. Now you’d better get moving.”

The four of us ride away. But before we can even make it all the way through Humbert’s vast estate, I see a falcon circling the sky. He hovers over us before swooping away, a rolled-up note clutched in his tiny feet.

“Isn’t that Horace?” George says.

“Yes,” John confirms. “I figured Humbert would write my father to tell him where we were going. But I thought he’d at least wait until we cleared his property first.”

I smile. So far, things are going according to plan.



It’s dark when we reach Westferry. We find Humbert’s friend Ian easily enough. He takes our horses to his stable, feeds us, and shows us to our rooms, all without question. Fifer and I fall into our beds immediately. I’m exhausted, and my side throbs painfully. John wrapped it up tightly before we left, but three hours on horseback has left it aching.

The next time I open my eyes, it’s morning. To my surprise, the sun is shining. Fifer and I dress and go next door to John and George’s room. John is standing at the window, watching the ships that line the harbor. He’s fully dressed and ready to go.

“See it?” Fifer asks, setting her bag on the floor.

“Not yet,” John says, shielding his eyes against the bright sun.