his magick against him in this way, concealing the residue of his spells would be a small matter. He picked up the books and examined their spines.
“I don’t know what you’ll find in those,” she said. “But they’re the best I’ve got. If you can’t find it in one of them … Well, I think you probably can.”
“My thanks, Janna.” He stood, his legs feeling leaden. “I should go before he casts again and starts a fight in your tavern.”
“You have mullein?” she asked.
“Aye. A pouch full of it.”
“That’s good. Ain’t nothin’ better for protection spells. You should have some betony and horehound, too. Spells in those books might call for them.”
“All right. I’ll have a pouch of each. How much will that cost?”
“A few shillin’s is all.” She was staring at the fire again; Ethan sensed that she was afraid to look him in the eye. “Maybe you should leave Boston. Just until you figure out how to beat him.”
“Kannice said much the same thing.”
“She’s a smart woman.”
“I have a job here. I need to finish it.” As soon as he spoke the words, though, it occurred to Ethan that his job could well take him out of the city to the home of Louisa’s parents. He balked at the very idea of it. Not because he couldn’t leave Boston, but because he didn’t want to. Or rather, because he refused to be driven from the city.
“For all I know, he wants me to leave,” Ethan said, his words filling a growing silence. “Perhaps that’s been his goal all along.”
“His goal is to see you dead, and to take as many other people with you as he can. Clearly he’s alive, but I’d wager every coin in my till that there’s nothin’ left of him but skin and bones and hate. And magick. I understand you not wantin’ to leave. Your woman’s here. Your friends are here. But don’t tell me you’re stayin’ for a job. You’re stayin’ because you wanna fight him, and you don’t wanna run.”
“Aye,” Ethan said. “That’s it precisely. I don’t want to run. I refuse.”
Janna studied him, her expression as hard as obsidian. “All right then. When it comes time to fight him again, you know where to find me.”
Ethan had to smile. “I do. And I’m grateful to you, Janna.”
She waved away his gratitude as if it were a fly. “Let me get them herbs for you.”
Janna left the the kitchen once more. Ethan picked up the books and followed her. His pulse had slowed, and an odd calm had settled over him like a cloak. The surety that Ramsey was in fact alive and back in Boston, the weight of Janna’s books in his hand, his resolve not to leave the city until he had found and defeated Ramsey: All of these served to quiet his mind. He remained afraid of the harm Ramsey might do with one of his spells, and he still felt as though he were corrupted and diseased by the man’s spells. But he would not surrender to Ramsey or to his conjurings, and he clung to that determination to fight the way he would a spar of wood in a storm-roiled sea.
“Here you go,” Janna said, presenting him with a pair of fragrant pouches. “That’s betony on the left and horehound on the right. If you forget which one is which, remember that betony is sweeter, horehound more bitter.”
“Thank you, Janna. How much do I owe you?”
“Four shillin’s.”
Ethan pulled five shillings from his pocket and handed the coins to her. “That’s for my supper and ale as well.”
Janna glanced at them and slipped them into the folds of her dress. “I meant what I said. When it comes time to fight, you find me. Understand?”
“I will.”
He reached for his tankard, which still sat on the bar next to his half-empty bowl of stew, and drained what was left of his ale. He picked up his hat, pulled on his greatcoat, and left the Spider for the cold.
Ethan knew that Kannice would be concerned about him, wondering where he was, but he returned to his room on Cooper’s Alley, and after restarting the fire in his stove, he sat on his bed and began to thumb through the first of Janna’s books.
He searched for any mention of a spell that enabled a conjurer to use the power of another, regardless of whether the second speller gave his consent for such a conjuring. Finding nothing in the first book,