again, in case he encountered the conjurer. He kept to narrower streets, even though it meant taking a longer route, and he did his best to move silently. Somehow he managed to make it to the Dowser without running across any of the people who wanted him dead. A minor miracle.
He tested the door of the tavern, expecting that he might have to use a spell on the lock. It was unbolted. Ethan let himself inside, pulling the door closed behind him. He was careful not to let the door close loudly, but at the click of the door handle, he heard Kelf call out from the kitchen “Who’s there?” in a voice that would have given Sephira pause.
He quickly cut himself again, and cast a second spell to remove the concealment charm.
The barkeep emerged from behind the bar carrying a large cleaver and guardedly peering toward the door. It was dark in the great room. The fire in the hearth had burned low, and all but a few of the candles had been extinguished, so it would have been hard for him to see Ethan anyway. And concealment spells didn’t wear off instantaneously.
“It’s me. Ethan.” As an afterthought, he pushed down his sleeve to hide the raw skin on his forearm.
Kelf lowered his weapon, still squinting at the shadows. “Ethan?” He shook his head. “Ya near t’ scared me t’ death.”
Ethan walked to the bar and sat on one of the stools. “I’m sorry, Kelf. I didn’t want to wake Kannice.”
“Ya didn’t?” Kelf asked, sounding confused.
“Long story.” When Kelf continued to gaze back at him, Ethan said, “I’m in a bit of trouble, and I didn’t want to go home. So I thought I’d come here and sleep downstairs; keep watch on the door.”
Kelf hefted the cleaver again. “Ya need me t’ stay? Nothin’ personal, Ethan, bu’ ya’re not exactly th’ biggest fella in Boston. I can help ya.”
“That’s a kind offer, Kelf. But I can take care of myself better than you might think from looking at me.”
“Aye, I don’ doubt it,” the barkeep said. “Ya wiry types are like that.”
Ethan said nothing.
“Righ’ then. I’ll be on my way. I’ve jus’ finished up in there.” He grabbed his coat off the bar and started for the door. “Ya wan’ me t’ lock it?”
“Please,” Ethan said. “Good night, Kelf.”
“G’night, Ethan.”
Once Kelf had left the tavern, Ethan walked back to the door, cut his forearm once more, and placed a warding spell on the door. Reg appeared once again, glowing brightly in the dark room. The spell made the air hum; probably it sang through the streets. But as with the concealment spell, he believed the warding to be worth the risk.
Satisfied that the Dowser was secure for the night, he threw another log onto the fire, moved a pair of chairs in front of the hearth, and arranged them into a sort of bed. He hadn’t any blankets, and just about everything he had on was damp, but he thought the fire would cast enough warmth to let him sleep.
Just as he got himself settled, however, he heard the floorboards above him creak, and a moment later, footfalls on the stairway.
“Kelf?” Kannice’s voice.
“No, it’s me.”
“Ethan?” She came down the stairs, wrapped in a robe. “Are you all right?”
“Aye, I’m fine. It’s been a long night.”
“I don’t like the sound of that. I thought you couldn’t stay here until your work for Berson was finished.”
“That was before. Now I’d rather not leave you alone.”
She frowned. “I don’t like the sound of that, either.”
He nodded, thinking of Pitch and feeling his throat tighten. “The conjurer took Holin. I was able to get him back, and get away myself, but… but I had to do something terrible. After, I was afraid to go home, and I was afraid that if I didn’t come here, whoever this person is would take you next.”
“Why didn’t you come up?”
“I didn’t want to wake you. Also, I set a warding on the door. I want to make sure it holds, and I want to be able to take it off in the morning before Kelf gets here.”
“So you were with Elli tonight.” She offered it as a statement.
“I was. I had to get Holin home and-”
“I understand. I assume that’s where you got those clothes.”
Ethan felt his cheeks burn. “I was soaked, Kannice. I-”
She held up her hand, silencing him. Then she stooped quickly and kissed his lips. “I said I understand,” she whispered. “You were with Elli, and rather than stay there, you came here.”
“Yes, well, her stew is awful.”
Kannice punched his good arm, glaring and smiling at the same time. “Your clothes are wet,” she said, tugging gently at his shirt. “Come upstairs and we’ll take them off.”
He held her gaze. “That’s not why I came back here.”
“I know.” She took his hand and pulled him again.
Still, he didn’t stand. “All right. But ask me first.”
Her smile faded, though she continued to hold his hand. “What was the terrible thing you did?”
A tear rolled down his cheek, and then another. “I had to use a killing spell to get away; I had no choice. I had to… to kill Pitch.” He looked away, a sob escaping him. “He showed up just in time. It was like he knew I needed him.” He covered his face with his hand, unable to keep from weeping.
“Oh, Ethan,” she said, her voice breaking on his name. She knelt beside him and ran her free hand through his hair. He knew she was casting about for something to say, and just as surely he knew there was nothing she could say to heal this wound.
They remained thus for several moments as Ethan gathered himself. At last, he took a long breath, feeling too weary to climb the steps to Kannice’s room. Had the conjurer broken through his warding at that moment, he would have been helpless to fight the man off.
“Come on,” Kannice said, standing and tugging at his hand again. “You need sleep.”
He nodded and let her lead him up the stairs to her bed.
He slept poorly, troubled by strange, dark visions. At one point he dreamed that he battled the conjurer again, the hot pain in his chest and head so severe that he cried out, waking himself and Kannice. She put her arms around him and sang to him, until at last he fell asleep again. The worst dream, though, came later. He was in Cooper’s Alley, walking toward Henry’s shop. Shelly stood in the middle of the street, her pale eyes fixed on him, her teeth bared. Ethan called her name and squatted down, holding out a hand for her to sniff. But she growled, the fur on her neck and back standing on end. And then she turned and trotted away.
Ethan woke from that dream with an ache in his chest that he feared would never go away. He was alone, though he could hear Kannice moving around downstairs. Daylight seeped around the edges of the window shutters, and the smell of cooked bacon wafted up from below. He knew he had to get up; he had slept too long already. But he couldn’t bring himself to move until the door opened and Kannice stuck her head in the room.
“I wanted to let you sleep, but Kelf’s here and he can’t get in. I told him that the door is stuck and that I’m working on it, but he’s going to start getting suspicious.”
Ethan sat up, ran a hand through his hair. “I’ll be right down. What’s the time?”
“It’s early yet. Just an hour or so past dawn. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I have things to do, things that can’t wait.”
Ethan had gotten in the habit of leaving a change of clothes in Kannice’s wardrobe and after she went back down to the tavern, he dug them out: a pair of breeches, a white shirt and brown waistcoat, even a pair of hose. His boots were still damp, but they were the only pair he had. He examined his arm, which was covered with fresh scars from all the conjuring he had done the past few days, and lamented having charmed the door. Remembering Janna’s mullein, he retrieved the pouch from a pocket of his wet clothes, which lay in a pile on the floor by Kannice’s door. Then he went down to the tavern.
“… Break it down an’ fix it later!” he heard Kelf shouting through the door as he reached the bottom of the stairs.
Kannice glanced back at him, eyes wide.
