Spellbreaker (Spellbreaker Duology #1) - Charlie N. Holmberg Page 0,68

a smile. “Take care of yourself, please. And let me know what you find.”

Quickening her step, Elsie took the first turn she could without getting hopelessly lost, just to break away from his line of sight.

Bacchus Kelsey, blessedly, did not follow her.

CHAPTER 16

For a time it seemed the cab could not go fast enough. Elsie was sure she’d see the Duke of Kent’s carriage outside her window, or worse, following her. But Bacchus honored her request and did not pursue her. Which strangely made her wish he had.

No matter. She’d cashed in the banknote and now rode privately, her valise on the bench across from her. Cabs didn’t always go long distances, so she did have to change two more times before finding a boardinghouse to stay in for the night, and she left early the next morning to make it to Colchester.

Once there, she had the driver leave her off at a local hotel, suspecting it might be noticed if the carriage left her off at the address on the note. Best not to take chances.

After leaving her bag in the room, she took a casual walk past the shed. It was guarded not by spells, of course—that would have been too easy—but by people. The true nature of the money in the envelope dawned on her. She’d need to stay in Colchester until she learned the guards’ schedule. Perhaps they’d be particularly God-fearing guards and the Sabbath would send them home, but she couldn’t rely on that.

That first day, Friday, she strolled past the shed three times. The second time, four hours after the first, there was a new man at the entrance, and he was replaced by two men come evening. She didn’t recognize the guard on watch the next morning, but did recognize the one that afternoon. She never caught them changing shifts.

The Cowls wouldn’t assign you a task you’re unable to complete. Not without sending help.

The local church started at nine in the morning. Thirty minutes past that, a siren sounded a ways off. Its whine struck fear into her heart, and she stayed where she was for a solid ten minutes. When no one came after her, she crept back to the shed, surprised to see it unwatched. Surely it wasn’t a coincidence. A Cowl must have set off the alarm or caused a distraction of some sort, knowing she’d be there.

She itched to follow the sound of the alarm, to find a Cowl or, perhaps, someone else who worked for them, but time was of the essence.

She moved quickly.

The room was hot and dim, but she saw enough to make her cringe. All sorts of weapons and tools hung on the walls. How many of these were used against the poor, especially those driven to crime by starving bellies and desperation? The thought made her shudder. She nearly sprinted along the walls, running her hands across handles, avoiding blades. She found the enchanted weapons quickly; they were in the back, sharing a wall.

She didn’t recognize the spells on them except for a temporal rune for preventing rust. She undid everything, untying knot after knot until her wrists itched. Then, her bodice sticking to her chest with perspiration, she fled. She thought she heard a man yell after her as she went, but she ran until her corset became suffocating and sweat dripped from her hairline, and by the time she looped back to her hotel, she had no pursuers.

She departed for Brookley the same day.

This week had been one of the most stressful times in Bacchus’s life.

All those hours he’d spent stewing over the second spell, unsure what it could mean, had worn on him. He’d hated Ipswich, too. All of the sugar farms had made him think of home in the worst way possible. He hated sugar plantations. Hated what they represented—the fall and mistreatment of his friends’ and neighbors’ ancestors, a legacy that still clung to them even sixty years after emancipation. He hated sweets for the same reason—the sweetest thing he could stomach was pawpaw.

And then the spell prolonging his life had been removed, and the mysterious second spell had been broken, and . . . he felt marvelous. Healthy, strong, invigorated. Like he was thirteen again. The transition was so confusing, so blissful. His outlook had brightened almost instantly. He could get his mastership easily now; the ambulation spell didn’t matter.

He could do anything he wanted.

And yet his glee had been short-lived, not only due to the knowledge that