Chronicles of Steele: Raven: The Complete Story

by Pauline Creeden

  She hunched down in the thicket, keeping an eye on her watch. Grant came around to her side of the house, peeking in the windows as he went. When he finished checking through all of them on the first floor, he started for the woods to Raven’s right. He called out as he went in a low voice. “Raven?”

  Annoyed, Raven rolled her eyes and snapped a twig between her fingers to get the lummox’s attention.

  He whipped his head toward her and smiled as he crunched through the snow. She watched the brightly lit area around the house and up the street as far as she could. Rupert was easy for her to spot in the woods on the other side of the road. His dark skin should have made it easier for him to hide, but the well-lit neighborhood didn’t leave many shadows except in the trees. Across from her, on the other side of the house, Raven was happy she could see no sign of Monroe until he made a movement for Colton to join him.

  Dawn and dusk were the worst times for seeing in the dark. The lights in the neighborhood of Grandview made it most like twilight. Her eyes strained against the falling night, but it wasn’t dim enough for her night vision goggles. A carriage turned up the road, pulled by a single, white, flesh horse.

  The clip clop of the horse’s hooves on the flat stone as it pulled the plain open cart up the hill echoed through silent neighborhood. Grant crouched next to her behind a bush. “It’s the witch. She really is timely—it’s exactly nine-thirty.”

  Raven pursed her lips, and motioned for the captain to stay quiet with a nod. Her hand sought the right bolt among her arrows. An alchemist friend of her father’s had fashioned a wide, grappling net out of spider wire and attached it to one of her bolts. She pulled the net-bolt into her crossbow and set it against the trigger. It fit into the bow and would begin to spread the moment it left her crossbow. Her jaw tightened. For now, she didn’t want the witch dead.

  The small carriage pulled to a stop, and the coachman hopped down to open the door for the passenger. A hunched woman took his hand and wrapped a shawl over her head. Raven began counting the woman’s steps. In order for the grappling net’s full effect, she needed the woman standing in a certain five foot section of the walkway to the house.

  Raven deliberated her breathing, willing herself to remain calm and trust her calculations. Grant shifted position at her side and broke her concentration. She shot out an arm without looking and grabbed him by the shoulder. She whispered a single word both for herself and for him. “Wait.”

  He settled back into his crouch and tsked. Her eyes searched the area and found Rupert striding across the lawn of the house across the street, making a line directly for the witch. Still hunched over with her shawl wrapped around her head, the woman didn’t see the guardsman yet, but the carriage driver started and stepped in front of Rupert. The coachman’s voice was gruff and commanding—it bounced off the walls of the homes just as the horses’ hooves had on the flat stone. “What? Now see here, sir.”

  The witch stopped and began to turn. Raven bit her lip and bolted from the woods. The sword on her back caught on something and unsnapped. It fell to the snow. She didn’t hesitate, but continued, focused on her target. If the witch determined what was happening because of Rupert’s presence, she’d never come into range of the grappling net. Raven needed to bring the net to her.

  She leapt across the snow, making quick measurements in her head keeping her aim trained on the old woman. The witch’s back remained to Raven as she rushed across the snow. Just as the witch turned completely toward Rupert, she began removing the shawl. The moment before she turned in a way so she saw an attacker in her periphery, Raven pulled the trigger on her crossbow.

  Jack gasped as the reaper next to him proved again her incredible speed. Just when he’d gotten used to her being only a woman, she proved to be so much more. Her hair flew behind her as she held the crossbow in front of her impossibly still while her legs pumped wildly. The gaslight cast a halo glowing about her head.

  After a moment’s distraction, Jack leapt to his feet. He started after her through the crunching snow. Across the other side of the walkway, Monroe and Colton broke from the woods. An arrow whistled through the air and a black net unfurled toward the witch. The witch had only enough time to turn her head in Raven’s direction before the net wrapped around her.

  No matter how much the woman struggled, the net ensnared her further. The coachman ran for them yelling, “What’s this? What are you doing to that woman? Cease at once!”

  Rupert grabbed the man and spun him around. “This is an arrest. I’m not wearing this jacket for warmth alone. Pay attention, man.”

  The coachman blinked hard twice at the people surrounding the witch. He shook his head and pushed his hands dismissively toward the woman in the net. “I don’t need this. You’re on your own, madam.”

  A muffled whining came from the woman whose scarf covered her face once more. After mounting the open cart, the coachman turned his horse around on the street and started away. Rupert joined Monroe and Colton on the other side of the witch. Raven shot an arm in Jack’s direction and took a step backward. She nodded across the other side of the walkway and called out to the others. “Stand back, everyone.”

  She pulled one of the sticks from her hair and threw it to the walkway in front of the witch. Glass shattered, and green smoke sidled up from the ground where the stick landed. Half the curls from Raven’s bun fell out as she backed quickly with her shirtsleeve covering her face. Monroe did the same and motioned to the two guardsmen with him. Jack lifted his arm to his face and stepped back.

  The witch’s struggle lasted a moment longer, and the green gas dispersed in the wind. Raven dropped her hand and approached. Jack followed her lead, and Monroe sauntered up with a smile. “Excellent job, Raven.”

  Raven shook her head, her eyes wide. “I couldn’t think of any other way to contain the witch.”

  “Truly good thinking.” Monroe knelt to untangle the unconscious witch from the grappling net. His grin grew wider, and he shook his head in amazement. “Spider wire, too.”

  Jack stared at the other glass tube the female reaper had in her hair. He flushed. Did that contain the same two chemicals? Now he knew what she meant when she said she was never weaponless. She snapped the crossbow to her back once more and pulled the other glass tube from her hair. Black curls cascaded around her shoulders and hid her face. She pulled them into a quick twirl and put the remaining tube in parallel to the ground. Pale blue liquid sloshed in one portion of glass, yellow in the other.

  Raven bent to help, because Monroe continued to struggle a bit with the net. Rupert pulled a knife from his side. “Should we just cut the blasted thing?”

  “No!” Raven shot the man a look of ice. “It’s reusable.”

  Monroe chuckled. “You should have let him try, Raven. Spider wire is nearly impossible to cut with anything but a diamond-tipped blade.”

  Rupert shoved his knife back into the sheath at his side. He folded his arms across his chest and took a step back. His eyes met Jack's with an unspoken malice. Rupert hated the feeling of being useless and held back as much as Jack. But Jack had become so enamored with watching Raven’s techniques and talents that he’d enjoyed taking an exhibitor’s seat.

  After another moment’s struggle, the net pulled from the witch’s face, dragging the shawl with it. Raven gasped, and Monroe’s eyes grew wide. Jack peered over the reaper’s shoulder and found chestnut colored hair with only a few grey streaks. Rupert bent and pushed the woman onto her back. It was not the face of the Wood Witch.

  Things rarely go according to plan.

  Be flexible and willing to change at all times.

  RAVEN GROWLED, THROWING her hands into the air, and marched toward the woods. Not the right woman? The adrenaline still coursed through her veins, and her fight reflex made her want to punch a tree.

  Grant trotted to her and grabbed her gently by the arm. “Are you all right?”

  She ripped her arm from him and snapped. “I’m fine. S
mashing.”

  As she strode for the woods, she shoved the folded net back into the grappling bolt she’d used. When the net didn’t want return quickly to its bolt, she wanted to throw the whole thing on the ground and have a tantrum like a five-year-old. She closed her eyes and took a shuddering breath and whispered her father’s teaching to herself. “Rage never accomplishes anything. Mistakes are made more often fueled by anger. No one thinks clearly when angry.”

  “That’s true,” Grant said from her side.

  Raven started. She didn’t realize he had still been following her. The snow crunched under her boots as she quickened her step toward the woods. The wind picked up and chilled her. She reached the thicket and found the place she’d been kneeling. The red corded sword remained in the brush, tangled in a vine. Raven grasped the hilt and pulled it cleanly from the dried branches. After checking the blade in the gaslight, she snapped it to her back once more.

  “Did you know Colton’s father gave him that sword when he left home?” Grant leaned against a tree, his eyes hidden in the shadow across the top half of his face.

  Raven shrugged. “Are you attempting to make me feel guilty?”

  He shook his head, the corners of his lips inching up into a smile. “No, I’m not. But does it make any difference to you when you know your victims more personally?”

  Her jaw clamped, the rage bubbling up in her chest again. She spoke through her teeth, “Victims? Did I kill Colton?”

  He shook his head and pushed off from the tree, following her as she started back toward the walkway and the others. “I didn’t mean victims, but I couldn’t conceive of a better word.”

  She quickened her step and made him jog to keep up. The captured woman sat on the stone walkway, awake. Monroe and Colton knelt with her in conversation. Rupert stood over them, a stern look on his face, as always. The woman showed nary a sign of disorientation, and Monroe wrapped the shawl around her shoulders as he pulled her to her feet. Colton spotted them and started over to Grant. “Captain, the woman is willing to cooperate. I suggest we go inside and tend to the young girl’s needs as we question the witch.”

  Grant nodded and shot a look at Raven. Colton smiled at her innocently. She shrugged and ripped her gaze from them. The guilt Grant had planted lingered like a dark cloud. She couldn’t meet Colton’s eyes anymore. He really wasn’t a bad guy. Grant was right about it being easier to demonize a person she didn’t know.

  Monroe allowed the woman to lean on him as he guided her to the porch. Rupert and Raven hung back while Grant and Colton took the lead. Tall, white columns held a covered porch as wide as the full front of the house. The group spread out across the portico, while Grant grasped the brass door knocker.

  Hardly a moment after the knock, the large red door swung in. The same grandmother from the café stood behind the butler at the door, her smile frozen as she assessed the number of people on her porch. Her eyebrows furrowed. “What’s going on here?”

  The woman they’d captured righted herself suddenly and pushed Grant to one side. “Good evening, Mrs. Gardner. You called for the Wood Witch?”

  A general look of surprise widened Grant and Colton’s eyes. Their faces mirrored Raven’s own. Monroe met her eyes and nodded slightly, assuring her that things were fine. She closed her jaw and nodded back. Grant shook his head and said, “I’m sorry, madam. I wasn’t completely honest with you earlier. My comrades and I are on a mission for the Duke’s Guard. Colton here is a medical doctor, but we also need to keep an eye on this woman.”

  The red-haired woman who claimed the status of Wood Witch narrowed her eyes at Grant. She gave him a look that threatened him to not give away any more information about her. Grant stood taller, but acquiesced.

  Raven didn’t like that this witch held herself in the same manner as the witch she’d met in the woods. Just like the last witch, this one took control of the situation. “Now, take me to the girl. I am late enough as it is.”

  When the group reached the bottom of the stairs, the grandmother turned around. “Is it really necessary for all of you to follow? The room is small. Can’t just the doctor and the witch come up?”

  Grant took a half step back and started to nod. Raven grabbed him by the arm and whispered harshly. “Don’t leave Colton alone with the witch.”

  “I’m not convinced this woman is a witch. Besides, the child does need medical attention,” he whispered back.”

  “Fine,” Raven continued to whisper in the same tone. She gave him a look that said she wouldn’t take no for an answer. “But I’m going with him.”

  He nodded, and spoke aloud to the grandmother as she continued up the stairs. “And Raven, our nurse, should accompany them.”

  The two older women turned around and assessed Raven. She felt suddenly self-conscious. Honestly, she’d never had much training in being a lady and spent almost all her teenage years with adult men. She didn’t know how to respond to them, but she was also certain that they knew she was no nurse. Heat flushed her cheeks.

  “Very well,” the grandmother said as she clasped the banister and took careful steps. “I’m sure we can accommodate her.”

  Raven started up after them.

  The grandmother waved the rest of the group toward the kitchen. And the butler announced to the remaining downstairs party, “Follow me, if you please. We have tea prepared in the kitchen.”

  Although his attire looked completely out of place in the white marble foyer, Monroe stood tall and carried himself in as genteel a manner as the butler himself. Raven almost laughed at the oxymoron. Rupert and Grant walked together, their heads inclined toward each other as they conversed in hushed tones. The door to the kitchen swung in, and the group disappeared. It was unusual for guests in a house such as this to take tea in the kitchen rather than the dining hall. But considering their barging in, how could the household be ready for so many?

  The witch took over the conversation on the way to the nursery. She fired off questions faster than the grandmother could answer. “How long has the girl been like this? What sort of cough does she have? A dry one or productive? What herbal remedies have been used thus far?”

  After waiting for a breath of silence from the witch, the grandmother answered. “Drusilla has been ill for over a week. She has only had garlic and chicken soup. Her cough seems to be dry, as far as I can tell. She’s only just come up to Grandview from Ipswich today. Her parents own a factory in Ipswich where they make—”

  “That’ll be all, thank you,” the witch announced, cutting into the grandmother’s prattle when they reached the door to the nursery.

  “But, can’t I come in? Originally the appointment was for my own herbs, but I felt that my granddaughter needed—”

  “No need for you to join us, madam.” The witch dug through her carpet bag and produced a small vial which she handed to the grandmother. “Here you are. I suggest you take it with some tea right away. Your strength has been waning and I can tell your rheumatoid is flaring up.”

  The old woman looked suddenly tired. She took the vial in a shaky hand. “You’re right. It’s been so long since your last visit. I’ve struggled over the past few days without my medicine.”

  Without a curt nod, the witch entered the child’s room and motioned for Colton and Raven to pass her and come in. Then she tilted her head to the grandmother. “With tea and right away. There is no need for you to suffer any longer than you already have. You may return after the medicine has begun its effect. We should be nearly done by then.”

  The grandmother began to speak again, but with a smile, the witch shut the door in the woman’s face.

  The witch leaned her back against the door and scrutinized both Raven and Colton. Her smile widened as she said. “A young noble playing guardsman and a woman reaper.”

  Raven swallowed and was tempted to draw her sword at the sheepish look on the woman’s face.

  “Uncommon. Unusual. About as singular an occurrence as someone sneaking up
on me and throwing a grappling net of spider wire over me.”

  Colton stepped in front of Raven, blocking her from the witch’s glare. Although she was annoyed with looking at his back, a relief settled on her to be shielded from the witch. The young doctor asked, “How do you claim to be the Wood Witch when we met the woman yesterday? You and she are not one and the same.”

  Raven peered over Colton’s shoulder to watch the woman. Her jaw clenched and unclenched. She pursed her lips before speaking. “I am not the Wood Witch, and if you were paying attention, you’d have noticed I didn’t claim to be. The nobles in this town and others in the southern province call me that of their own accord. I simply chose not to correct them.”

  “So who are you then? For you are not a common herbalist, either, are you?” Colton asked. His manner reflected the same command the witch had shown in the hallway with the grandmother.

  Raven smiled at his ability to make the woman squirm.

  “I am a witch and I live in the woods. Alchemy is a broad and varied subject, and Preston Woods has a multitude of residents. I have not lied.”

  Colton nodded and scratched the blond stubble of his chin. “What is the difference between you and the Wood Witch whom we encountered?”

  The woman’s face contorted and she spat to the side. “Perverter of alchemy. Consumer of children. That woman has become all the worst that the science has to offer. She is a fiend.”

  Raven started. “What do you mean by consumer of children?”

  A half smile played on the woman’s lips. “Have you not heard the stories? That woman takes a child born with certain talents and steals their abilities.”

  Pushing Colton slightly to the side, Raven stood before the woman. “How so?”