Spellbreaker (Spellbreaker Duology #1) - Charlie N. Holmberg Page 0,105

talons scraped against the door half a second later.

She raced through the warehouse, following runes scattered with a flare of insanity, some placed on the ceiling, others the floor or random places on the wall, even when the location was a poor choice for the spell. Through it all, that strange sense of familiarity nagged at her, but she didn’t have time to think about what it meant. Or the fact that she’d kissed Bacchus Kelsey while he was in a compromised position. Good heavens, what had she been thinking? At least it had only been on the cheek.

At least she wouldn’t have to face him again if one of Ogden’s spells caught up with her. Or if she caught up with the man himself and their reunion went awry. You have to risk it, she reminded herself, searching, listening, feeling, and smelling for opus spells. If she caught up to him and came out the victor . . . it would be all right. It would allow her to right her wrongs, to an extent. God knew she had to try.

She pulled apart a density alteration spell hovering midair, slightly to the left, which made the air too thick to walk through. It was the eighteenth spell she’d encountered.

Her wrists and arms itched as though bitten by a hundred mosquitoes when she pushed open the door at the other end of the warehouse. The burn of gaslight stung her eyes. The moon reflected off the nearly still river water.

And illuminated Ogden as he crouched at the edge of the dock, untying a small fisherman’s boat. A sheaf of mismatched papers—opus spells—stuck out from the collar of his paint-stained shirt.

“Ogden, stop,” she pleaded, raising one hand as though in surrender while stashing the crowbar behind her back with the other. She strode toward him, focused. Casting an opus spell required verbal activation, so at least she’d have warning. “Let’s talk about this.”

Ogden pulled the sheaf from his shirt, and Elsie paused as though he’d brandished a gun. He’d need only to whisper, Excitant, and those spells would come flying for her. “No closer,” he warned. His voice came out hoarse, and his hands shook as they held the papers. Why? Was he afraid? Ill?

“You’re sick.” Elsie dared to take another step forward. Ogden wasn’t young, but he was in good health. Yet maybe this run had overtaxed his heart. “Ogden. Cuthbert. Please. Let me take you to a hospital.”

He stood suddenly, eyeing her. She thought she felt something in the air, something like snow—

She didn’t want to stop him, now did she? Ogden was just going fishing. She had so much work to do at home. What was she doing here? Emmeline must be worried—

“Stop!” she screamed, hands flying to her head. The crowbar fell to the dock behind her. She was the least experienced with rational spells, but she sensed the quiver of one in the air between them. It dug into her thoughts, planting new ones.

I’m such a mess! I need a bath. Time to go home—

She clawed at the space before her until she found it. She’d have no luck were the thing planted on her head, but Ogden had not yet touched her. She pulled off one thread, then another. It was complex. A master spell.

Emmeline must be so worried! I must return at once!

“Ogden!” she screamed, clawing off another knot.

Go home. Go home.

No, come with me.

The sudden shift in the demands threw Elsie off balance. Now Ogden held out his hand to her, like he’d suddenly changed his mind. Like he wanted a companion. With his other hand he worked on untying the boat, opus spells shoved into his trouser pocket.

But . . . he hadn’t selected a single page. Hadn’t said, Excitant, to activate the magic.

He hadn’t used an opus page for this.

I need to take care of Ogden! I must get in the boat—

Which meant . . . he’d cast it himself.

Another thread off, another. Her own thoughts battered against the false ones. Elsie’s knees wavered.

“Come with me.” Sweat beaded across Ogden’s forehead.

It all made sense.

How scandalous that I’m out at the docks alone, at night! The spell pushed her away even as her employer beckoned to her.

Alfred. She thought of Alfred, after seeing him with his new wife. Crying on her bed. Ogden had come in and . . . everything had felt okay. Like her sorrow had simply been whisked away.

The police will know I’m involved. I should leave while I