The cauldron effect, p.51
The Cauldron Effect, page 51
This was not Peregrine. Mary heaved a sigh of relief. After her previous encounters with that devil, she would recognize him anywhere. Just the thought of that warlock generated a series of mental images of Peregrine’s birth, childhood and his mentor, a Garth Holland. The older warlock had drained his apprentice’s powers to the point of pain while Peregrine learned the bare minimum of how to use magic.
Pity for the abused child blossomed. Peregrine wasn’t bad, more a lackey to a wicked one. He had still made that pact with the demon, Jinny Greenteeth, which made him dangerous.
Though Mary’s head throbbed at the resurgence of her storytelling ability, her strung-out nerves quivered in semi-relief that this newcomer wasn’t Peregrine, or his cruel mentor.
Still, this stranger’s entry had been unauthorized and he had cut through Hugh’s boundary spell as if cleaving wood. She checked on Hugh’s reaction. With his back to her, it was hard to read him.
A “baa,” drew her gaze back to the doorway. A sheep came around to stand by the stranger’s side.
Llyr’s band buzzed along her forearm. FRIENDS.
In accompaniment to that, her mind flashed a series of scenes of Hugh brushing that sheep’s wool every morning on waking and every night before his weary head hit his pillow.
DEWI.
Her heart warmed for this animal that was almost as dear to Hugh as Atalie.
“What’s all this shouting about?” the stranger asked in a pronounced Welsh accent.
ROBERT SPENCER, Llyr’s band offered just as she witnessed a man gently brush the head of a baby and pronounce that name.
Stop that! It was disconcerting for answers to pop into her head before she’d formed her question. Will I ever become used to this dual sound-image effect?
Her brain cells twitched in counterpoint to her arm tingling. Don’t answer that!
Llyr’s band subsided sulkily at her curt command, while her newest talent ignored her order and relayed all historical facts about Robert Spencer. Unlike the horror of Peregrine’s mentorship, Spencer’s relationship with Hugh had been genial, built on a solid foundation of trust. Mary breathed a sigh of relief.
Swaying beneath this new onslaught of information, she suspected that if she but wondered it, she would learn what color underclothes Spencer put on this morning. It was enough that she knew he was here to help Hugh, not hurt him.
Holding her head, she mentally shouted, Enough
Hugh, stepping forward to hug Spencer, re-focused her attention and broke the deluge. His mentor returned that fierce embrace in equal measure.
Despite having learned a great deal about these two men’s relationship, Mary was still shocked by this physical demonstration of affection. She’d assumed that warlocks weren’t fond of emotional displays, especially Hugh.
She smiled then, reminded of this morning, when he’d left her in no doubt about his feelings. That experience had been an exception.
Benson, too, seemed to be rendered speechless by the hug and turned his stare toward his feet.
Dewi head-butted Hugh’s leg until he released Spencer to bestow an equal amount of affection on his mentor’s familiar.
“Dewi.” Hugh fluffed the sheep’s coat and brought him closer for a tussle. “You need a good brush. Shame your master doesn’t take better care of you.”
“Baa!” Dewi licked Hugh’s fingers, tail wagging.
“His master lost his best farmhand recently,” Spencer said with a bland face.
Mary sought out Atalie, who hadn’t run over to join in this affectionate reunion. The feline was on the couch’s back, her tail wrapped around herself with the tip slowly tapping. Atalie’s mysterious yellow gaze held a hint of supreme contentment.
These four were bonded. They may express themselves in different ways but they belonged together.
FAMILY, Llyr’s band said.
Family, the storyteller in her mind affirmed with images to back up that claim.
Show off, Mary chided the storyteller in her. Suddenly feeling cross, she stepped aside. A family was something she no longer had. She barely remembered her mother, and her father was gone. The reminder brought a familiar lump to her throat. As for Marcus, he was in love and on the brink of forming a new family.
A thump drew her gaze back to Atalie who had jumped off the couch. Instead of going to join Hugh in greeting Spencer and Dewi, she strolled over to Mary and leaped up to settle on her shoulder. Purring, Hugh’s familiar wrapped her tail possessively around Mary’s neck and said, Family.
Hugh turned to her, as if he’d heard Atalie’s proclamation. His eyes softened and he held out his hand. Mary was hard pressed to keep from tearing.
HUGH GAVE MARY’S HAND an encouraging squeeze. He wanted her to like Spencer and for his mentor to return that feeling. Unfortunately, there was little time for long introductions. “This is the honorable Mary Bryght. You know Benson. Peregrine has my mother and we were debating how to proceed.”
“Then I’ve come in time,” Spencer said. “The news Benson sent the Council about Peregrine’s demon pact had an effect. They’ve sanctioned my assistance. The vote would have been unanimous except for one objection. He was outvoted.”
“Holland?” His father’s murderer would never agree to the Council helping Hugh with anything.
“Yes,” Spencer said.
“He was Peregrine’s mentor,” Mary said.
Hugh shook his head in warning at the same time that her statement sank in. Holland was personally involved in stopping the Bryght mural being painted?
“How do you know that, Miss Bryght?” Spencer asked.
“I told her,” Benson said, quick to cover.
Good man. “Another reason why Mary must stay here,” Hugh said. “If my father’s murderer is involved in this mess, I want her far from him. If you agree to guard her, sir, Benson can now come with me.” Spencer would be a stronger deterrent to anyone attacking Mary than Benson.
Mary pulled out of his grasp, her mouth pressed in that obstinate line. “You will need me to track Peregrine.”
“I see your problem,” Spencer said. “Miss Bryght...”
“Are you able to find his mother, Mr. Spencer?” Mary crossed her arms. “I can and I’ve beaten Jinny once. None of you can say the same.”
“You have?” Spencer asked. “How?”
“By chance,” Hugh said. “We cannot leave it to luck to protect you a second time.”
“He’s right, Miss Bryght,” Benson said, in a gentle voice. “Even I would not dare challenge a demon single-handed.”
“I will not be alone. You will all be there.”
“But...” Hugh began.
“She’s right,” Spencer cut him off.
Hugh turned to his mentor in disbelief. “I thought you’d bring sense into this discussion.”
“As the artist’s sister, she is Peregrine’s target. She is safer with all of us to watch over her, than just one guard.”
Benson laid a hand on Hugh’s shoulder. “Put that way, he’s right.”
Hugh clenched his fists. In more ways than Spencer could ever understand, Mary was a target.
“Good,” Mary said. “Then we’re agreed.”
Her ability to discern his intentions before he was ready to reveal it could become inconvenient once they wed.
He was going to marry Mary Bryght. He hadn’t asked her yet but their future was so clear, there was no room for doubt. Did she know he intended to propose?
“We must head south,” she said, apparently unaware of his train of thought. Good!
“Peregrine’s on his way to London.”
“How could you know that?” Spencer said.
“Questions must wait,” Benson deftly changed the subject. “Time, I fear, is not on our side.”
Hugh’s insides shook with this news. Without Mary’s guidance he might have gone in entirely the wrong direction. At least with her alongside, his chances of saving his mother expanded.
IN SHORT ORDER, HUGH sat beside Mary in his newly converted open-air carriage with Spencer facing them and Benson acting as groom. Mary was surprisingly quiet on the drive south.
By unspoken agreement, they had kept mum about the lore keeper’s secret to Spencer. Hugh trusted his mentor like a father but couldn’t risk Mary’s life on that trust. Spencer was a Council member and the Council had ordered Demelza’s records destroyed. Now Mary was the lore keeper, he intended the Council remain ignorant on that matter.
According to Spencer, the Council had bowed to Holland’s arguments that those records were a threat to Wyhcans keeping their existence a secret, and as a result, they’d ordered Hugh to destroy the records.
Hugh’s father would never have agreed to the senseless destruction of centuries of historical records. He believed their past defined his people. Mary would have liked him.
His father had also carried weight on the Warlock Council. If Marsh ever stepped down as Council Head, or was put down, Hugh’s father would most likely have succeeded him. Which now spoke to a motive for Holland eliminating his chief opponent. How he’d gone about it was still a mystery. Hugh refused to believe his father could not best Holland in a fair duel. “Fair” being the operative word.
“Will you tell me more of how the mark works?” Spencer said to Mary. Before leaving Demelza’s cottage, since his mentor had insisted on learning how she was able to track Peregrine, they’d been forced to confess about Llyr’s gift. It had been easy enough to say the two marks were in fact one.
“Its response is evolving but mainly it helps me discern a statement or a situation’s validity.”
“Is my mother safe?” The words leapt from Hugh. If Holland had harmed his mother, too...
“Lady Flint and Caden are safe, for now.” Her band glowed a vibrant blue that was visible even beneath her sleeve. “We’re close. No more than a few miles ahead. Hugh.”
“Yes?”
“Jinny Greenteeth is with them. She must have recovered.”
“The water demon?” Spencer sat up. “I wonder who put Peregrine up to making that pact with her.”
“Holland,” Mary said absently. At Spencer’s questioning glance, she added, “She spilled a great deal of information while she had me trapped in this carriage.”
Spencer nodded.
The news rocked Hugh. He took her hand for the next logical question but with Spencer watching them avidly, it had to be private. Had Jinny been involved in my father’s murder?
Her troubled eyes answered clearly before she did. Yes.
Then she showed him how. In flashes that stunned him into silent grief, he found himself at that duel site. The clearing chosen had witnesses galore – warlocks, many of them Council members, even Spencer. None perceived Jinny in the form of a green-gray adder slithering through the undergrowth and feeding Holland’s magic with unlimited demon power.
Everyone observed the elder Flint’s magic strike at an illusion of Holland some twenty yards away, when, in fact, his father’s enemy stood right behind him.
Oh, father.
Hugh returned to the reality of the carriage to find Spencer studying his and Mary’s prolonged handholding. His mentor nodded his acceptance.
Good to get that approval but in no way did it alleviate Hugh’s sorrow. Carefully, he released Mary’s hand so she couldn’t read his next murderous thoughts.
“Jinny can be hurt. You proved that when you shoved her watery ass out of this carriage.”
“With all due respect to Miss Bryght’s abilities, Hugh, that previous success might not be easily repeated. Last time, the demon mistakenly assumed her human opponent was incapable of mounting a stiff defense.”
“This time she will be alert and on guard. I understand.” Hugh restlessly tapped the seat cushions, his thoughts on how he could defeat Holland. If Jinny’s demon magic was the reason Holland won against Hugh’s father, then maybe her destruction might be the key to Holland’s defeat.
“She left this carriage in a fine mess,” he murmured, absently rubbing the vehicle’s now immaculate leather sides. “Mold and pondweed scum inside and on the roof. It stank like the Thames on a hot day. Took me an hour to get this vehicle back to its pristine condition.”
Mary and Spencer looked at him in silence.
Dewi “baa’d” and butted Hugh’s boot as if he approved of Hugh’s need to keep things well-brushed and tidy.
“I, too, love Hugh’s cleaning habits,” Mary said in a firm tone.
Spencer bent to pet Dewi without offering a sarcastic quip as he often did whenever Hugh complained about his mentor’s messy habits.
Hugh shook off his unease about his need to clean. It wasn’t excessive and, besides, some people put high store on sanitation. Too bad his mother hadn’t stayed around long enough to discover that a perpetually messy boy was capable of becoming a clean-conscious young man.
According to Mary, his mother had cared for him. His first question once he rescued her would be, Why did you leave me?
Chapter 19
The carriage Caden and Lady Flint were in came to a halt. He glanced out the window. Would they be getting out? At an odd choking noise outside, Caden barked a question to the horse tethered at the back. “Arawn is well?”
“Hmffrrrdt,” the stallion said.
That didn’t sound good. Caden sniffed the air. River smells as before, but now overlaid with a foul, moldy scent. He recognized it and barked his concern, no longer interested in leaving the safety of the carriage.
A stinky green face peered in through the window and spoke. From its sweetly poisonous tone, he could tell it was nasty.
He growled, recognizing her. This was the smelly creature that had slithered up to the roof of their home in London just before they left. He’d tried to warn Atalie when she ran by, but she’d accused him of trying to cozy up to her master by spinning tall tales.
Then, at the inn, Master Flint had told him to stand guard. Caden squirmed to get free and bite Stinky, but Mum held him tight. “Let me go, let me go, let me go.”
Mum draped her jacket over his head and held him even tighter. “Shush, Caden. That’s an order.”
He quieted, unhappy at the conflicting instructions, but unwilling to disobey.
When he finally peeked out from under the jacket, Stinky had disappeared and he heard an argument overhead. Then there were sounds of galloping from the rear.
Was Master Flint coming to their rescue? “We’re here, we’re here!” he barked.
Mum peered out the window and then scrambled backward into the corner with him. “We’re in terrible trouble, Caden.”
“Let me out, let me out.” He squirmed to see who had come. Mum sounded worried, so it mustn’t be Master Flint. Every time he came, it made her happy.
Once the stranger arrived and dismounted next to the carriage, he looked in through the window and then went forward to speak to the other two. Heated words were flung out. Caden caught a few.
“Dead...Records gone...Spencer’s here...no more time...idiots.”
While they argued, Mum whispered, “Caden, you must be very still and quiet.”
He stopped squirming. She set him beside her, shrugged into her jacket and took a firm hold of him again. Opening the door furthest away from the others, she quietly climbed down.
Caden looked over her shoulder. Everyone was still shouting at each other on the other side of the carriage.
Arawn looked over at him from where he was tethered at the rear. “Where are you going?”
“I think we’re escaping,” Caden said.
“Good,” Arawn said. “Wish I could come. Except, my master wouldn’t come with me and I can’t leave him.”
Caden understood that. He, too, would never leave Mum. “Good luck.”
They were a few feet away from the carriage and into a potato field when a wail went up. Stinky flew high up and pointed at him and Mum. “They’re escaping!”
“WE MUST CHANGE DIRECTIONS!” Mary’s tone spiked. “Peregrine’s on the other side of the river.”
Hugh conveyed the urgent instruction to Benson to change direction. The carriage swerved. He hung on to the seat edge with one hand and Mary with the other.
“They’re on the other side of a bridge, Hugh. We should be able to see it soon...”
The horses neighed and the carriage came to an abrupt halt. Hugh slammed backward and Mary landed against him. Spencer almost joined them.
“The bridge is blocked,” Benson shouted.
“It’s begun.” Spencer jumped out.
“Stay in here,” Hugh said to Mary and followed. Atalie rode his shoulder, her sharp claws gripping him.
They had stopped by a steaming, bubbling, and dangerously rising river. The churning waters sloshed over the bank as if determined to return the surrounding land to its previous marsh status before drainage systems had turned the riverbeds into usable fertile farmland.
“Odd rising for such a clear, sunny day,” Benson said from his post on the driver’s seat.
Swamp gas drifted off that churning foul water and a thick mist hid the opposite bank. The stagnant air was imbued with the stench of rotting fish. Overgrown vines blocked the bridge that spanned the twenty-foot divide.
A tentacle wrapped around Hugh’s ankle. He jerked back and sent a burning spell at the culprit. The presumptuous vine quivered and shrank, but then split in two and launched at him.
He hastily backed off and waved Benson to remove the carriage before it became trapped.
Benson drove the vehicle out of harm’s way, thankfully taking Mary with it.
“Now what?” Spencer asked.
“We could build another bridge, except these vines might simply infest the new crossing.”
Frantic barking erupted from the opposite bank.
Caden! Atalie leaped to the ground and ran toward the shoreline as if intending to race over the greenery covering the river surface. A splash erupted, drenching her and sending her scuttling back.
