Heart's Blood(17)

Which all too often was the case. Men treated women like dolls to be moved about here and there at their masculine whim. With the power of sorcery returning, that would have to change.

"I have already seen many terrible things," Pearl said. "I have seen bodies pulled from the river and-worse. I am going."

Grey lifted an eyebrow as he gave Ferguson a significant look. "Do not make the mistake of thinking that because a woman is small, she is also weak."

The admonishment was for the both of them. Grey had forgotten it several times already just today.

He flung open the door and led the way down the dark stone steps, walking sideways to help Pearl with her book-balancing problem. "Set your book there." He indicated the writing table at the foot of the stairs. "No one will disturb it."

Grey and the wizard set their top hats and gloves on the table with the book.

"Ferguson, go open the cellar doors for a little fresh air. However much might be available here." Grey indicated the slanted double doors at the back of the cavernous room.

Bodies lay on planks lined up in rows throughout the space, in various stages of death and decomposition, most of them covered with a coarse drape. Now that Pearl had deposited her book on the table, she had both her hands over her nose.

"I don't know that it's any better breathing through your mouth," Grey said quietly. "The taste lingers."

"If I might-" Ferguson drew a flask from an inside pocket and opened it. He splashed a bit of liquid on the floor in the center of the room and the stink began to dissipate, replaced with a strong smell of mint and chrysanthemums. Not exactly pleasant in itself, but better by far than the odor of death.

"Thank you, Ferguson." Grey drew his pencil box from his inner coat pocket. "That seems quite a splendid potion for a job like this one. I hate to have you spending your time brewing it up for the office. Can I assume it's easily purchased from any qualified wizard?"

"Not easy at all, sir. Not this potion. There's others, lighter scents that can clear out faint mildew and such, but this one, against something so strong as-" Ferguson waved his hand at the bodies in their rows. "It can be purchased, at a steep price. Or I can brew it for I-Branch."

"Can you teach it? To Tomlinson's apprentice, perhaps?"

"Miss Tavis, sir?" Ferguson seemed taken aback. "I-I suppose. Yes, sir. I'm sure I can."

"Do so, then. As soon as can be arranged."

Grey strode toward the table where Angus Galloway lay in state. It stood alone, set apart from the others perhaps because it was so obviously a magical murder. The magic, if any lingered, couldn't hurt the other corpses, but the living had to work among them, at least to carry them out again for burial. The body was covered entirely with a drape. It would become his shroud if no one claimed his body.

"No doubt it's him, is there?" Pearl said, so quiet it just missed being a whisper. "Even though we can't see him under that sheet. The magic vibrates around him in such an angry buzz."

"Is that what you sense?" Grey asked as he opened his case. He watched Pearl, curious to see her reaction.

"Yes, don't you?"

"Everyone senses magic differently, and I believe-" He looked at Ferguson. "Those who can sense more types of magic often sense each of them differently. Am I correct?"

"Yes, sir. It works that way for myself, at any rate." Ferguson drew nearer, but still hovered behind Pearl. Maybe he intended to catch her if she fainted. As if she would.

"The buzzing is rather overwhelming, sir." Ferguson shook his head and backed away a step. "I can't-If there is other magic, I cannot sense it through this-this anger."

Grey heard voices. Shouting and weeping and so much outrage it was difficult to think. This many ghosts in a confined, dark space could cause trouble even in daylight. Quickly he selected a bit of chalk and marked a simple symbol on the floor. "Quiet," he said forcefully. "I'll let you know when it is your turn to speak."

"Y-yes, of course, sir," Ferguson stammered.

"Not you, Ferguson." Grey flung a hand toward the rows of bodies. "Them. They're setting up a horrific clamor. Always do in places like this, especially when there's someone who can hear them. Most of those poor souls are quite unhappy about their circumstances. Did that help eliminate the buzz?"

Ferguson tipped his head, considering. "Slightly, sir. There is still . . ." He shook his head, as if to clear it. "This is my first murder, sir. It's-I've never sensed it so strong. Not conjury or alchemy or-" His eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed. Fainted dead away.

Even as Grey leaped to catch him, he couldn't help thinking, Oh, that won't impress her by half, fainting at the scent of sorcery.

Pearl was there to lift his head, but before she could cradle it in her lap, Grey had an apron off a hook and folded to place there under the fainted wizard's head.

"Too much blood," Grey said. "Too much sorcery for one who's never encountered so much before. Do you remember when you drew it in, there in Green Bank, when our victim was found?" He took Pearl's hand and lifted her to her feet, leaving Ferguson sprawled on the brick floor. "You need to do it again here."

She nodded. "Yes, all right." Her hands twitched, fingers stretching and curling in again. She looked at Ferguson. "Shouldn't we move him?"

"Where? There's nowhere else to put him. He's comfortable enough there."

Pearl seemed dubious. "He doesn't look comfortable. Perhaps we should call someone from upstairs?"

"Calling in the magic would do him more good."

Biting her lip, she reluctantly turned her back on Ferguson. Grey wondered if he should have the man hauled off, since worry over his welfare distracted her so.

"Why is there so much?" she asked. "If it comes from innocent blood, wouldn't there be more where the blood was spilled, rather than here?"

"I don't know. Perhaps you should consult your book."

"I shall." She paused and tilted her head, then looked across the few feet of space toward the other bodies. "It's not all from him."

"No." Grey wasn't surprised. The number of shrieking ghosts hinted at it.                       
       
           



       

"Should I gather up the rest of it, the angry magic?"

"I think so, yes. If you can. Don't overstrain yourself. But if you can, Ferguson will be grateful."

"Oh. Yes, of course." She turned worried eyes on the fallen man a moment before stretching out her fingers again, while Grey cursed himself roundly for reminding her of Ferguson's existence, and then cursed again for caring. Why was he so fascinated with this one small woman?

Pearl drifted across the room, her eyes not quite focused, a hand raised as if to ward off something, or draw it in. "This one," she said, touching a table. "Murdered. And this one. And her as well."

She floated through the rows of corpses, identifying about a third as murder victims. Following along behind her, Grey chalked an M for murder on each plank or table she indicated. The police-regular and Briganti-would find this useful, just to know which deaths they ought to investigate.

"Now that I have all the magic, what should I do with it?" Pearl came back into the aisle between Galloway and the other bodies. "I feel all light-headed and fizzly."

She giggled, a sound he'd never before heard from her. Granted, he'd only known her a day, but it seemed out of character. It would have been delightful, had the situation not been so suddenly alarming. What should she do with the magic?

"Blast it all." He tried to curse under his breath, but knew the cursing was audible. "You should have waited. You should be Amanusa's apprentice, not mine. I know damn-all about sorcery." He'd said that aloud, hadn't he? Damn it.

"Forgiveness. Haven't been much around gently bred ladies." He dipped his head in apology.

Pearl giggled again. "I'm no gently bred miss. I was gently raised for a time, but my father was a merchant, not even a squire. Don't worry ‘bout my ears. They're not so delicate that they won't survive a damn or two."

Her eyes widened as she realized what had come out of her own mouth, and she covered it with her pretty fingertips. "Whoops."

"Now I've rubbed off on you." Grey withheld the curses this time, running hands through his hair, trying to think what to do, how to rid her of the magic that had intoxicated her.

"Grey?" Her voice, weak and frightened, brought his head snapping round in sudden worry.

"It burns, Grey. I mean, Mr. Carteret." Her expression was as frightened as her voice. "It felt good at first, all bubbly and fizzy, but now, when the bubbles pop, they burn. It hurts. What do I do?" Her voice rose to a keening pitch.

"Easy, Parkin. No need to panic." The words were for himself as much as her. "Magic is magic. It just needs to be used, or sent back where it belongs."

Why hadn't he remembered that basic tenet of magic earlier? Too busy playing the peacock, fanning his tail?

Even knotted together, her hands trembled. Not surprising, if the magic burned. He took her hands, one in each of his, and the instant he held her securely, magic surged into him in an electrical rush.