“The greatest concentrations of power are found in humans who are slaughtered in a state of extreme physical or emotional distress. Which means sangrimancers are usually accomplished torturers as well.” Stanton flexed his hands in a strange way, as if he could flick the thought of sangrimancers off his fingers like drops of water. “The practice of blood magic has been illegal for the past fifty years, but laws won’t stop people from taking advantage of such power.”
Emily stared at him for a long time. Then she remembered something else from her vision. “Mrs. Quincy said Captain Caul was a Maelstrom.”
Stanton blinked at her.
“What did you say?”
“A Maelstrom. She said the Maelstroms don’t care about propriety.”
Stanton took a deep breath, then let it out in a long hiss.
“They most certainly don’t.” He looked down at the table.
“You know them?”
“The Maelstroms are a special branch of President Grant’s Secret Service. The units are commanded by old military Warlocks who served in the war—Caul could certainly fit that bill.”
“Then they’re all old men?” Emily asked.
“No, they continue to actively recruit …” Stanton paused as if momentarily lost in a maze of thought. Then he shook his head. “They have a special dispensation to practice sangrimancy, supposedly for the public good. They are deployed in situations that need to be resolved quickly, quietly, and without bothering with that troublesome little thing called the Constitution. If the Maelstroms are after us”—he let out another long breath—“then we really are in trouble.”
At that precise instant the little bell above the door tinkled merrily. Both Emily and Stanton startled; Emily saw Stanton’s hand go to the inside pocket of his coat as his eyes darted to the door. There was the sound of heavy, irregular footsteps and a loud, drunken demand for a steak to be prepared, double quick. Stanton withdrew his hand, lifting it reassuringly, but Emily did not relax.
“Why should the Maelstroms be after us?” Emily whispered. “If the government needs the stone for the public good, why didn’t they just ask?”
“Maelstroms don’t ask.” Stanton shook his head. “Honestly, I knew the stone in your hand was an incredible discovery, but I never anticipated—”
Stanton stopped speaking as the drunk man who had called for the steak lumbered by their table, giving Emily a good hard leer as he passed them. She sank down in her seat, lowering her eyes while the man moved past.
“Are my eyes still black?” she whispered to Stanton.
“No, they’re returning to their customary ‘dewy violet,’ though it looks as though the garden has suffered a recent bout of frost.” Stanton dipped one corner of his cloth napkin into his glass of water and gestured to her. She leaned forward, and he wiped dirt off her cheek.
“And what about Komé? Why was she in my head chanting?”
“That’s a more difficult question. I imagine it has something to do with the acorn she gave you.”
“The acorn? You think I’m having visions because of a magical acorn?”
“Do you have a better explanation?”
Emily sighed. Of course she didn’t. “Well, what are we going to do?”
“We have several problems.” Stanton reached into his pocket and pulled out a few small coins and laid them on the table. “Problem number one. That’s all the money I have.”
“What about your Warlock’s Purse?”
“I’m afraid I left it sitting safely with all my other things, on a chair in Mrs. Quincy’s spare bedroom,” Stanton said. “Shall we go back and ask for it?”
Emily stared at him. “You left it in the spare bedroom?” She said each word slowly.
“We were just going downstairs for dinner! How was I to know we would end up exiting through the parlor window?”
“All right,” Emily sighed heavily. “That’s problem number one.”
“Problem number two. We have to get out of town, and quickly.”
“And the minute you go back for your horses, Captain Caul is certain to be waiting.”
“Actually, that is not a problem.” Stanton looked smug, and for once, Emily found it very comforting. “Mrs. Quincy does not know where my horses are stabled, nor did I divulge that information to the proprietor of the Excelsior Hotel. I took them to my customary stabler near the waterfront to get them reshod. It should be quite safe to retrieve them. But that brings us back to problem number one. I don’t know what I’ll tell them when it comes time to settle the bill.”
Emily reached into her collar and pulled out the silk pouch. From it she withdrew the ten-dollar gold coin that Pap had tucked