leather, will you, Monsieur de Villeneuve? Sir Ander, if you would fetch me the remains of that pistol I see lying over there. The gun that blew up after the green fire hit it. I will make use of it.”
“For what?” Stephano asked.
“I am going to make a compass,” said Father Jacob.
“I know what direction north is, Father,” said Stephano. “We’re wasting time-”
“No, we’re not,” said Rodrigo excitedly. “I know what he’s doing. Why do you need the pistol, Father?”
“The presence of other constructs might interfere with my magic. The demon’s green fire erased the constructs that had been laid upon the gun.”
“I didn’t think erasing constructs was possible, Father,” said Rodrigo coolly. He squatted down to get a better view. “Aren’t you talking heresy?”
The priest glanced at him. “I see that we will have to build a special dungeon at the Arcanum to hold that mouth of yours, Monsieur.”
Rodrigo grinned and watched as Father Jacob took up a bit of scorched leather and placed it on the flattened piece of metal. He touched the leather with his finger three times, at three different points. The priest set no construct or sigil, yet all three points began to glow with a soft golden light. Father Jacob drew a line connecting the three points to form a triangle of light.
While Father Jacob was constructing the compass, Brother Barnaby came over to ask if he was needed. If not, he wanted to go back to the houseboat with Gythe and Miri.
“Mademoiselle Gythe heard voices again, Father,” said Brother Barnaby, deeply troubled. “And… I have been hearing them, too.”
Father Jacob paused a moment in his work to look at the monk. He did not ask any questions, but gave him permission to accompany the sisters. “Give Sir Ander the script containing the demon remains.”
Brother Barnaby handed over the script with the mysterious object inside.
“Dag,” said Stephano, seeing his friend gritting his teeth against the pain of his burns, “Go with Miri and Gythe and the brother. Keep your musket handy.”
“And have Miri see to your back,” Rodrigo said loudly. “I hear that yellow goo is excellent for burns.”
Dag cast Rodrigo a baleful glance, then went off with Brother Barnaby. Miri had her arm around Gythe. She walked slowly by her sister’s side, clinging to Miri and holding fast to Brother Barnaby’s hand. Dag walked behind, his musket in his hand. The clocks in the church steeples began to strike seven times.
“Sir Ander, could you find me a sliver of metal from the pistol?” Father Jacob asked. “Just a small piece will do.”
The knight quickly complied and handed his friend the metal splinter. Father Jacob wrapped the splinter in the bit of leather from the satchel and held it directly above the glowing triangle. A thin stream of light rose from each point and touched the splinter, which began to glow brightly and shifted its direction.
“The priest could also use part of the fabric from Sir Henry’s coat for this spell,” Rodrigo was explaining to Stephano. “Anything that the person handled or wore on his body. The ‘needle’ makes the connection using latent magical energies-”
“Of course it does,” said Stephano impatiently. “The question is, will it lead us to this man?”
“It will,” said Father Jacob. “But the connection fades quickly, so make haste.”
Father Jacob handed the device to the fascinated Rodrigo. Following the compass’ point, the four men walked swiftly to the end of the lane and found a trail of blood. Stephano had his pistol in hand, keeping watch for trouble. When they reached the alleyway, they came to a sudden halt.
The light of the lantern shone on the body of a young woman, no more than fifteen or sixteen, lying dead on the street. Her throat was cut. Her blood ran in gruesome rivulets among the cobblestones. Rodrigo gasped and covered his mouth and turned away. Stephano gazed down in shock and horror.
“The wraith!” Sir Ander exclaimed.
“Poor child. The Warlock used her blood for his conjuration.” Father Jacob sighed deeply. “May God in His mercy take her to her rest.”
He knelt beside the body and reached out his hand to close the staring eyes.
“Did Henry Wallace do this?” Stephano asked, shaken.
“No, Captain,” said Father Jacob, rising to his feet. His face was drawn. He seemed to have aged in the space of moments. “This is dark magic, blood magic-the work of the young man, the Warlock. He killed this girl, then drank her blood, and used her life force to create the wraith that attacked Sir Ander.”
Stephano seemed stunned. “I can’t believe that anyone… Is that even possible?”
“Sadly, yes,” said Rodrigo in muffled tones. He kept his eyes averted from the corpse.
“We’ve seen this young man commit such murders before,” said Sir Ander, his voice burning with anger. “He seduces these young women and then makes them believe that by dying for him, they’re proving their love. You’ll note there is no sign of a struggle.”
“Good God!” Stephano said softly. He swallowed hard.
“There’s more blood down here, Father,” Sir Ander reported, flashing the lantern light about on the pavement. “Not the young woman’s. It might belong to the Warlock.”
“How do you know it’s not her blood?” Stephano asked.
Sir Ander squatted down. “See how the blood is smeared? Looks as if the person was shot in the foot. He was dragging his boot in his own blood. And here he trod in it. You can see bloody footprints. And so did Wallace. You can see faint traces of his footprints walking along behind. Probably holding a gun on the young man. I’ll follow them, see where they lead.”
He continued down the alley, shining the light on the cobblestones.
“I take it from what Sir Ander says that the two of you have been working to stop this Warlock,” said Stephano.
“For many long months,” said Father Jacob.
Kneeling beside the body, he began to pray. Rodrigo bowed his head. Stephano didn’t want to pray. He wanted to lash out, hit someone-God, maybe.
Sir Ander was not gone long. He waited for Father Jacob to finish his prayer to make his report.
“The bloody smear of the Warlock’s trail ends at the canal. Wallace’s prints continue down the street. Maybe he threw the young man into the Breath,” Sir Ander said hopefully.
“I doubt it. Wallace took him hostage. If he’d wanted to kill him, he could have just shot him. With all the barge traffic, Wallace probably dumped him in a passing boat. There is something between Wallace and the Warlock, that much is clear.”
“The Sorceress,” said Sir Ander. “We know she spent time in Freya.”
“I fear you may be right, my friend,” said Father Jacob. He paused, then said, “And I believe I know how she and Wallace might be connected. We long suspected he had something to do with the attack on the Defiant.”
Father Jacob started to stand, caught his foot in the hem of his cassock and staggered. Stephano reached out his hand to steady the priest. He was eager to start on Wallace’s trail, but there was something he needed to say first.
“What will happen to this young woman?” Stephano asked, gesturing to the body.
“Sir Ander and I will take care of the poor child,” said Father Jacob. “There is a convent nearby. The nuns will tend to her until we can learn her name and give the sad news to her family.”
Stephano coughed, cleared his throat. “After seeing this… Well, um, I may have misjudged you, Father. I’m sorry if I’ve been.. .” He paused, uncertain.
“An ass?” Rodrigo suggested.
Stephano flushed. “Not exactly the word I was going to use in front of a priest.”
Father Jacob smiled. “I understand, Captain-perhaps better than you think. May God go with you.” He held out his hand.
“And with you, Father,” said Stephano. He accepted the priest’s handshake.
Sir Ander lifted the young woman in his arms, cradling the lifeless body as gently and tenderly as a father. Rodrigo drew a lace-edged handkerchief from his pocket and laid it over the cold, pale, blood-smeared face. Father Jacob gave both Stephano and Rodrigo his blessing and told them to take the lantern.
“We walk with God’s light,” said Father Jacob, as he fell into solemn step alongside Sir Ander.
Stephano waited to see them safely on their way with their sorrowful burden, then turned back to the
