Bewitching Season (39 page)

“I don’t know. We got separated when we were looking for Ally. I came up here, and …” She

shrugged.

“I see.” Sir John frowned. “Your Highness, if you would be so good as to begin the next act of our

little drama and convince your niece to accompany you here? In the meanwhile, I shall find the other

Miss P and pitch her into the circle. Will that do, Michael?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Michael here is sad at losing the company of your Miss Allardyce,” Sir John explained to Pen as

he went to the door, a touch of malice edging his words. “I think that he has become fonder of her than

he ought to these last weeks. Ah, well. You might want to take a moment to say your own farewells to

her, Miss P.”

“What?” Pen’s face was white.

“Perhaps I wasn’t clear earlier. We were forced to take your governess’s power because she

wouldn’t cooperate. Unfortunately, her life will probably go with it. With a witch as powerful as she,

the two become inescapably intertwined, so Michael tells me. Oh, don’t worry. You should survive

this evening, though we don’t expect your magic to. Your sister may not, since her powers seem to be

stronger and more developed than yours. But you can’t make a cake without cracking eggs, now, can

you?”

He crooked his arm to Princess Sophia, and led her to the door. A foot from it they stopped dead,

as if they had walked into a wall. Sir John tried to reach for the knob, but an invisible barrier kept

him from moving. “Carrighar,” he called, his voice tight with irritation.

“The ward, sir. I’m sorry. But you said to make sure no uninvited guests arrived.” The wizard

stepped past him and swept his hand through the air in front of the door as if drawing aside a curtain.

“How will I get back in?” Sir John peered into the air as if he could somehow see the protective

spell that had guarded the door.

“You could knock and announce yourself, sir.”

Sir John gave him a black look and left the room with Princess Sophia.

It took all of Persy’s will not to run to Pen, who was staring down at Ally with tears trickling down

her cheeks. Then Pen lifted her head and looked at the curtain where Persy hid. Persy caught the glint

of determination in her eye as she turned to Michael Carrighar, who was adding something to one of

the braziers.

“Must you do that?” she asked, rubbing her eyes. “It’s smoky enough in here.”

“Yes,” he said shortly, gliding over to the others and doing the same. Persy caught a stronger whiff

of burning ginger.

“Sir John can’t be the most pleasant employer.”

Mr. Carrighar hesitated, compressing his lips as if biting back a reply, then shook his head. Pen

was trying to distract him, Persy guessed—to keep him from completing his preparations for the spell

that would bind Princess Victoria to Sir John. Was there anything she could do to help?

She turned her head to examine the window behind her and felt the same shield of magic covering

it that must be covering the door. But even if she could get past the protective ward, open it, and

clamber out without his noticing, the drop to the ground was at least forty feet, and she was not sure

she could manage a hovering spell right now in her state of mind.

Pen tried again. “Isn’t it risky, attempting this here? Why did Sir John choose tonight?”

“He thought it would seem natural, the princess announcing her new secretary on her birthday. And

it was a good way to guarantee your presence.” Mr. Carrighar picked up a crystal goblet and poured

water into it from a pitcher. “Now please stop trying to distract me, Miss Leland. It won’t do any

good.”

“Why don’t
you
just stop? You must see that this is wrong. Are you willing to harm innocent

people just so that Sir John can satisfy his greed?”

He paused to look at her. “What does it matter? Sir John will not harm the princess. He’ll get what

he wants and she’ll be none the wiser.”

“And England will be—”

“To hell with England,” he growled. “Only the people I love matter.”

“Like her?” Pen stroked Ally’s forehead. Mr. Carrighar’s angry face grew bleak.

“If you really loved her you would help me,” he said more quietly. “If you willingly give me your

power, it will go easier on you all. You would just walk from this room with a headache, no more.

Your sister would probably survive. And if you could convince her to give her power as well, it—it

might keep Melusine from losing her life. At the least it would make her passing a less painful one.”

He gestured at Ally and looked quickly away.

Persy’s mind galloped. He would take Pen’s power, and hers, and Ally’s. Pen would lose her

magic, but not her life. She herself would suffer more, but might survive. But Ally …

So what if she did willingly help him? Pen would still be Pen without her magic, she would still be

Persy—and Ally might live. How important was her magic, compared to that?

Who else knew she was a witch? No one that mattered, really—not her parents or friends. The

Allardyces would think her magic a small price to pay for their daughter’s life. And Lochinvar …

She had not been willing to give up her magic for Lochinvar after all. But if she gave it up for Ally,

the barrier between her and him might be removed. She could have him after all and live the life

she’d dreamed of, by his side.

Her hand crept of its own accord for the edge of the curtain. All she had to do was step out from

behind it and into the circle, and let him drain her magic. It would be so easy … .

Pen’s voice stopped her. It was sharp and incredulous. “You would kill Ally? I saw your face just

now. If you have the least bit of feeling—”

“The least bit? What do you know of feeling, you—you
child
? You love this woman as your

teacher. I love her as I love my own soul. I have the rare choice of killing either my father or the

woman I would marry if I could. I cannot kill my father, so …” His voice dropped, and he reached

down to stroke the blade of the long, sharp knife that lay among the magical paraphernalia on the

table. “Rest assured, I do not plan to outlive her by long.”

Persy saw Pen take a deep breath and straighten her back once more. “I have never been as good a

witch as I could have been, Mr. Carrighar. I never practiced the way my sister did, and it shows: She

is far stronger than I am. I know I disappointed Ally deeply because of this. But I did learn one thing

from her, the most important thing—what power I have, I will use for good.”

He looked at her, his jaw clenched. “Miss Leland—”

“Giving you my magic might or might not save Ally. But even if it did, she herself would never

forgive me, because I will have used it for ill. As I see it, sir, the only way for me to do good with the

little power I have is not to give it to you. I know Ally would think it the right decision. What does

she think about yours?”

“Silence!” he roared, and pointed a trembling finger at Pen. She grabbed at her throat and coughed,

then tried to speak. No sound passed her lips.

That was the final straw. Persy flung aside the curtain that concealed her.

“You leave my sister alone!” she cried.

21

M
ichael Carrighar’s head whipped from side to side as he searched the room, and Persy realized that

she was still covered by her cloaking spell. With an impatient gesture she brushed it away.

In the circle, Pen covered her face with her hands.

Mr. Carrighar stared at her, and an unwilling smile touched the corners of his mouth. “The other

Miss Leland, here all along. I should have noticed your concealing spell. But my attention has been

elsewhere, as you might guess.” He gestured at the circle. “Then again, I might not have noticed. You

are talented, Miss Leland. I felt that when we met at Kensington. But it isn’t to be wondered at. You

are
her
pupil, after all.” His gaze moved back to the pale, sleeping Ally.

“Let us go, Mr. Carrighar. Let
her
go. There’s still time while Sir John is away,” Persy urged him.

“I can’t. You heard me just now. Help me. With your power, willingly given, she might live. For

the love of God …” His hands clenched into fists.

“No. My sister was right. Ally would never forgive us, even if she did survive. You’re wrong, and

someone has got to stop you.” Persy pointed at one of the candles in the outermost circle. It tottered

and started to fall.

But he was too fast for her. His own hand shot out in a sharp, chopping motion, and the candle

steadied.

“That was ill done.” The wizard’s brows drew together in an angry scowl. “You should know

better than to disrupt a circle spell of this magnitude. Someone might get hurt.”

Persy couldn’t resist a grim laugh. “Worse than they will if I don’t try to destroy it?”

“You can’t, Miss Leland. I won’t let you.” He stepped away from the table and toward her.

“It’s not a matter of letting.” She summoned the pitcher of water from the table and tried to upend it

over the chalked pattern of the circle.

“Frigus!”
he snarled, and the water fell harmlessly to the floor as glittering pellets of ice. “I’m

warning you.”

“Warn away, then.” She backed around the circle as he approached, careful not to let her skirts

even brush the edge. Should she try the candles again? He had been angry when she’d tried to knock

one down. Would blowing them out work?
“Boreas, Auster, extinguite!”
she cried.

“Pacamini!”
He spread his hands in a smoothing gesture as a curl of wind fluttered the candle

flames. “What do you think you’re doing? Only a fool would summon the north wind indoors.”

“It almost worked, didn’t it?” Persy couldn’t resist taunting back.

“This foolishness won’t get us anywhere. You can try all night to break my circ—”

“Thank you. I think I will.”

Even in the candlelight, she could see him flush with annoyance. “This is not a parlor game.”

“I wasn’t joking.” Persy kept backing away from him, bits of spells and magic ricocheting in her

head as she groped for ideas. If she could stall him, keep him at bay, then maybe she’d be able to

think of something. But if she stalled too long, Sir John might come back. She wasn’t sure she could

keep both of them away from her. They would force her into the circle, and she’d be caught. They

would strip Ally’s magic, and Pen’s, and hers … the very thought of it made her shudder. Having her

magic taken from her would be like being flayed alive.

Very well then. Sometimes the best defense was offense. She took a breath and tried to focus on

Mr. Carrighar’s eyes.
“Dormi,”
she whispered.

But she had forgotten something. As she narrowed her focus, his odd eyes, one blue, one brown,

jarred her attention. She blinked, and the spell dissipated.

“So?” he said softly. “Switching tactics, are we? Will you attack me instead? Ah, Miss Leland, that

is not wise. Please don’t make me hurt you. I know how much Melusine loved you. For her sake—”

“
Loved
me? She’s not dead yet!” Stung, Persy sent a blast of pure force at him. It hit him in the

shoulder and made him stagger but not fall. With a circular motion of his arms he gathered the

remaining energy of her spell and sent it into the circle. The candles burned a little brighter, with an

eerie, unnatural bluish tinge.

“Keep it up,” he called to her. “If I can’t take your power one way, I’ll take it another. You must

have realized what the circle is by now, haven’t you? Every time you throw out some unfocused

magic, the circle will absorb it.” His voice changed, became low and soothing. “You’re like a moth

beating against a lampshade. Save yourself the trouble and go into the circle, child, and let us get this

over with. The ritual preparations are nearly complete. When the princess arrives we could have it

done in a matter of seconds, and none of us will have to suffer anymore.”

Persy wrapped her arms around herself, hunching her shoulders and breathing hard. The weird

shadows cast by all the candles were giving her a frightful headache. Her angry blast at him had been

a foolish waste of energy. Attacking him directly would not work, it seemed. Then what—

A flash of magic startled her. She dodged and shielded herself from the sudden force that tried to

yank her off her feet and into the circle. “I thought you said you didn’t want to hurt me?” she accused.

“I’m not trying to hurt you. But I cannot vouch for Sir John when he gets back and finds that you

were here the whole time while he searched for you. He doesn’t like being made a fool of.” He took a

step toward her, then another. “You’re weakening, you know. Just being in the presence of a spell

circle like this will draw your magic off. How much longer can you dodge me? How much time do

you have before Sir John comes back? Go to your sister and your teacher. I promise it will be quick.”

Persy backed away from him and tried to keep from trembling too visibly. Even if she wanted to

attack him right now, her shaking hands would probably send the spell uselessly into the ceiling or