Heart's Blood(70)

I want some, Mary said. Can I have some of that magic, Grey?

"If we can learn how, dearest." Grey raised an eyebrow at Pearl. "Something to investigate when we've the time." He smiled, hoping she would take the hint.

"Do you think you can pinpoint the murderer a little more precisely?" Pearl asked Galloway.

I do no' know.

Obviously, Pearl was ignoring Grey. All his hints, suggestions, and outright begging. Well, not the last, since he hadn't resorted to begging yet. But he would if he had to. He would not let her go again.

The cab rattled over the bridge and into Lambeth, quickly reaching the railway station a little way on and St. John's church across the major thoroughfare from it. At this hour of the afternoon, Waterloo Road wasn't nearly as crowded with cabs and omnibuses as it would be at the end of the workday. Still, Grey was grateful they didn't have to cross the busy road when the cab let them down in the church square.

He set Meade up in the porch of St. John's with his maps and his chalk, marking off search assignments, while Grey appointed searchers and handed out lanterns. The day would only get darker.

"I'm ready to go, sir." Ferguson stood at Grey's elbow, sounding a little breathless.

"You weren't at the office, were you?" Grey didn't recall seeing him there, and Ferguson was a hard man to miss. His mere presence set up an irritation all along Grey's skin. Like a rash one couldn't get rid of.

"No. Mr. Archaios and I were searching this side of the river. He got word that Magister Tomlinson and Miss Tavis wanted to discuss something with him at the Bermondsey dead zone, and I heard you were here, so I came." Ferguson had that annoyingly earnest expression he so often wore.

"Right." Grey looked around for a group to fob him off onto.

The problem was that he didn't have many Briganti in I-Branch to begin with, and most of those were scattered across London. They hadn't yet begun to trickle into this field headquarters. Grey had to leave Meade here to organize those arriving later, and he wasn't sending anyone, even Ferguson, out to search alone. This murderer's mangled magic was too dangerous.

Grey would simply have to get over his rash. It was nothing more than his own annoyance at the man's clumsy courting of Pearl. She was amused by it, not attracted. She pitied Ferguson. He could tell through the familiar's magic. But Grey still couldn't stop the irritation. Likely, if he were more sure of his hold on Pearl, the man wouldn't bother him. Grey could stop seeing Ferguson as a threat. Because he wasn't. Not really.

"All right, Ferguson. Looks like you're with us." Grey sounded too bluff-and-hearty to his own ears. Why was it so impossible to speak normally to the man? He handed Ferguson the lantern for their group to make up for it. "We'll be heading back toward the river, searching that direction. It's more likely the man is in an industrial area than where people live, especially since he seems to work after dark."                       
       
           



       

I do no' like this man, Galloway said.

"Nor do I," Grey said, taking Pearl's elbow to direct her through the square to the back streets where they would search. "He wants Pearl," he added silently.

Who wants Pearl? Mary asked.

Him. Galloway's eyes narrowed at Ferguson. But he's no' gettin' her.

What does he want her for? Mary asked.

"Never mind, dearest." Grey smiled. One never knew what Mary would understand, even with her spirit advantages.

They worked their slow way through the stinking streets, searching for any sign of magic. The tanneries and other odorous industries of the city were on the south side of the river. The bone-boilers had their businesses not far from Waterloo Station, and the breeze was out of the wrong direction. Grey wasn't sure any direction was right, in this neighborhood. At least the recently completed sewers had mostly eliminated that stench. Leaving all the others.

Pearl cleared out innocent blood magic as they went, sending it to harry perpetrators and soothe ghosts. It helped them detect what magic remained afterward. Grey could sense sorcery again, and more of the other magics as well. He had also become more sensitive to nuances within the spells he could sense. Pearl's contribution. He had never understood what he had until he lost it-threw it away-and gained it back again.

"Can you sense that?" Ferguson darted forward, into a narrow alley, mostly clear of refuse. Nearly everything had value of some kind to the poor.

Grey hurried after Pearl who had darted after Ferguson into the gloom. He didn't like it here. Too dark, too quiet, too-

"What do you see?" he asked the spirits, reaching out with all his senses. He couldn't see Pearl in the gathering dark of the presolstice afternoon, but he knew she was there, a few paces in front of him. He knew she was nervous, but not actually afraid, and he knew she was unharmed. So far.

Nothing, Mary said.

"Galloway?" Grey pushed magic into his call, but still got no answer. He picked up his pace, hurrying to catch up to Pearl.

I don't like it here, Mary whispered, which was odd. Usually she didn't mind the dark.

He's near. Galloway's rasping voice slid into Grey's head. Had he sounded the same as a living man? Th' bastard's near t'me. I can feel it. But I do no' know where.

"Tell Pearl to invoke her protective spells." Grey took a last, leaping step and caught her hand. She didn't gasp or cry out, though the alley was no brighter. The magic must have told her he was coming.

Grey felt Pearl's protection lock in around them both. Grey asked his old spirits for protection and felt Polonia and Varus link in that way they had. Walther was here, too, layered beneath them, since he was only sixty or so years dead, not centuries. The spirits provided protection to Pearl as well as to Grey, as if they were a single unit.

You are, Polonia whispered. In a way.

The protection felt stronger, more solid than it ever had before. The blood it is, Walther said. In her magic. It strengthens us.

A light glowed in the darkness ahead. Not flaring gaslight from a streetlamp-they'd left those behind long ago-but a soft glow from a high window. Grey was not encouraged. He tightened his grip on Pearl's hand to keep her from rushing forward, and opened up, trying to sense any magic in the air.

He felt smothered. Wrapped in a blanket and locked in a box, even though he could see, could smell the city stink and hear cats stalking the rustling rats. His magic senses were muffled. He never knew how much he'd depended on them.

"Do you suppose the bastard's figured out how to create a-a magic blocker?" Grey said softly to Pearl. "Not a barrier to magic, but something that stifles the magic sense?"

"It would explain a great deal." Pearl tugged at his hand, dragging him with her, after Ferguson.

Grey wanted to dig in his heels, to hold her back and keep her safe from whatever lay ahead. He knew he would lose her quicker than his next breath if he tried. He could only do his best to protect her.

"This is it," Ferguson announced as they reached the building with its glowing windows.

This is it, Galloway announced at almost the same time, unfolding himself from the mist around the sigil on Pearl's arm.

"What is it?" Pearl asked. "What's here?"

"Your missing sorcery student." Ferguson opened the door to a rickety warehouse. "Can't you sense her magic?"

Actually, Grey couldn't, which surprised him, since he was Pearl's familiar again. He reached for his borrowed sorcery, but still couldn't read anything through the muffling of his senses.

"Can you sense her?" he murmured to Pearl, who shook her head.

Grey kept her behind him as he followed the wizard into the empty building. It felt wrong. Off, like an opera singer gone flat. "Galloway? Mary?"

I don't like it here, Mary announced.

Nor did Grey, for once more he got no reply from the spirit of the murdered man, no sense even of his presence. He checked, but his spirit protection held. The old spirits seemed to have no problems. Still, he didn't like it.

Halfway across the warehouse floor, he stopped. He didn't want to get any deeper inside. "What is this place, Ferguson? What's going on here?"

"She's here, just up the stairs." Ferguson held up his lantern to illuminate them. "Katriona Farquuhar is here."

"How do you know?" Grey asked. "Isn't your magic sense stifled?"

"What? No, of course not." His raised brow gave him an arch look. "Perhaps my magic sense is simply superior." He directed his look pointedly at Pearl. "Come. We've found her."

"Why should we believe you?" Grey held tight to Pearl's hand. He wanted her right beside him until they knew more about the situation and its potential dangers. "You could be deceived. You could be lying."

"I'm one of your Briganti!" Ferguson protested, offended.

True. But he hadn't been one for long. Grey honestly didn't know the man well enough to know whether he could trust his word. He wanted to, but . . . there was that rash.

Pearl took a step forward and Grey prepared himself to block her, but she stopped again before he had to. "Katriona!" she shouted for all she was worth. "Katriona Farquuhar, are you here? Can you hear me? Katri-"

Before she got to the "ona," the door at the top of the stairs opened and the girl in question appeared. The double candlestick in her hand illuminated her freckled face and flame-red hair, identifying her without doubt. "Miss Parkin? And Magister Carteret! Whatever are you doing here?"