by Faith Hunter
“Or we could let it go.”
The fae’s eyes found hers. But it didn’t plead for its life or its release. It simply watched her.
“What is your name, fae?” Hannah asked. “Your true name.”
“I will not tell you that, witchling.”
“I’m not a witchling. I’m an Everhart, and you will give me your name.”
The creature looked away.
“Very well. Come then, Mister Kaille. It will require removing some cobbles, but we shall draw a circle around it.”
“No!”
She allowed herself a grim smile. “Your name?”
The fae clamped its mouth shut, but couldn’t remain thus for long. It howled again, tortured by the spell with which Kaille had bound it. “Tairdelbach Ó hÉanna,” it said at last, as if every syllable had been ripped from his chest.
The thieftaker did not appear convinced. “How can we be certain that it’s given its true name?”
“Simple,” Hannah said. “Tairdelbach Ó hÉanna, raise your hand.”
Without hesitation, seemingly without thought, and despite Kaille’s conjuring, the fae lifted its hand.
“How is that possible?”
“A witch in possession of a true name can overcome any working.” Hannah stepped out of her circle and walked to where the little naked creature lay, its arm still raised, so that it looked quite ridiculous. “You belong to me now, fae. And if I find you in this city ever again, I’ll show you no mercy. Mister Kaille will release you from the binding. When he does, you will return to your ship and set sail immediately for London. You will never return to these shores, on pain of death. Do you understand me?”
The creature nodded, awe and fear and—dare she think it?—a shadow of respect in its ebon eyes.
“Release it, thieftaker. We’ve nothing to fear from it now.”
Kaille regarded her with something akin to wonder as well. But he mumbled an incantation, and the blood on his arm disappeared. The fae scrambled to its feet. It eyed them both, backing away. At last it turned and ran, and as it did, it seemed to blend with the lane and the gardens, so that Hannah lost track of it.
“I hope that was the right thing to do,” Kaille said.
“I have its name,” Hannah said, staring at the spot where she had last seen the creature. “It will do as I commanded.”
A door opened behind them and they turned in time to see a man emerge from the Adams house. He wore a red waistcoat, black breeches, and a white shirt. His hair was gray and tied in a plait, and upon spotting Mister Kaille he smiled and raised a hand in greeting.
“Mister Kaille! What a surprise.”
“That’s Samuel Adams,” Hannah whispered, her mouth suddenly dry.
“Aye. Come along, I’ll introduce you.”
“No, I—”
Before she could say more, the thieftaker took hold of her elbow and dragged her toward the man. She had seen Adams once in the streets of Boston, speaking to a crowd that cheered his every word. After he finished his speech that day, she considered approaching him, but dismissed the idea as quickly as it came. Even then, he might well have been the most famous man in the Colonies, and she was nothing, a child.
And now Kaille was shaking hands with him, and she stood but a few feet away. As they greeted each other Hannah noticed that Mister Adams’ hands and head trembled slightly, as from a palsy.
“It’s good to see you, sir,” Kaille said. “I hope you’re well.”
“I am, I am. Busy of course. And who is this charming young lady?”
“This is Hannah Everhart, sir. An admirer of yours.”
Adams took her hand in both of his. She could barely draw breath.
“I’m honored, Miss Everhart.”
“The honor is mine, sir,” she said, remembering at last to curtsy, a polite dip of her knees.
“What brings you here, Mister Kaille? Not more of your . . .” His eyes flicked toward Hannah. “Your mischief.”
She was as certain as she could be that Mister Adams was speaking of conjuring.
“No, sir,” Kaille said, the lie coming to him with apparent ease. “Miss Everhart is a family friend, and I was showing her some of Boston’s finer homes. Naturally, such a tour brought us to your street.”
“You flatter me, Mister Kaille, and I’m grateful. But I must be on my way. Feel free to wander through our gardens. Betsy is in the house, but she won’t mind. Just tell her you do so at my invitation.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Adams smiled at her again. “Good day, Miss Everhart.” He doffed his tricorn, and hurried off.
“You know Samuel Adams,” she said as she watched the man walk away. “You’re a friend to Samuel Adams.”
“An acquaintance. I know Thomas Hutchinson as well, but he’s a bit of a prig, so I don’t talk about that as much.”
She smiled.
“Come, let me escort you home.”
They started back toward the North End.
“You did well,” he said after they had walked some distance. “Not only your . . . your working. I was also impressed with your courage.”
She smiled, her cheeks warming. “Thank you.”
“But you need to give me the brooch now.”
Her face fell. The jewel still lay in her hand. With some reluctance, she held it out to him. He took it from her and slipped it into his pocket.
“Do you have to tell them who stole it?”
“No. I can tell them that I retrieved it from a third party. But I’ll only do that if you promise you won’t steal from them, or from anyone else, ever again.”
“You have my word,” she said solemnly.
They walked on.
“How much will you be paid?”
He glanced at her, a grin playing at the corners of his mouth. “I’ve already received one pound and ten. I’ll get another two and ten when I return this to them.”
“Four pounds is good deal of coin.” She smiled. “Though it’s less than Miss Pryce received for finding me.”
“Well, you’re more valuable than a golden brooch.”
She laughed, blushing again, but turned serious as quickly. “Do you find that being a conjurer helps you with your thieftaking?”
“Certainly.”
“So then workings might be useful as well.”
He halted and faced her. “You wish to be a thieftaker?”
She shrugged, her gaze sliding away. “I hadn’t considered it before meeting you, but I will admit that this was more of an adventure than I had anticipated.” She smiled again. “I like adventures.”
“Well then, thieftaking might be the perfect profession for you. I’d suggest, though, that you keep your distance from Sephira Pryce. She doesn’t brook rivals, at least not willingly.”
“She thinks you’re clever,” Hannah said. “But she told me not to tell you.”
“I am clever,” Kaille said, resuming their walk toward the North End. “And I’m not sure how I feel about having a witch for a rival.”
She chewed her lip, but only for a second. “I wouldn’t be your rival. I was thinking more of being your . . . partner.”
He laughed. “My partner? I believe you mean my apprentice.”
Hannah shrugged, then grinned. “Perhaps the one can precede the other.”
“Perhaps,” Kaille said, smiling still. “I’d have to give that some thought.”
“You should speak with my aunt as well. She’ll want to make the arrangements on my behalf.”
“I haven’t agreed yet,” he said, a thread of amusement in the words.
“No, but you will.”
“You’ve divined this, have you?”
She shook her head. “I don’t have to divine anything. You said it yourself: You don’t want me as a rival.”
He was still laughing as they crossed into the North End.
About the Authors
David B. Coe/D.B. Jackson is the award-winning author of eighteen novels and many short stori
es. Writing as D.B. Jackson www.dbjackson-author.com, he is the author of the historical urban fantasy series, the Thieftaker Chronicles: THIEFTAKER, THIEVES’ QUARRY, A PLUNDER OF SOULS, and DEAD MAN’S REACH, which is due out in July 2015. As David B. Coe www.DavidBCoe.com he has written the Crawford award-winning LonTobyn Chronicle, the Winds of the Forelands quintet, the Blood of the Southlands trilogy, and the novelization of Ridley Scott’s ROBIN HOOD. Most recently he has released SPELL BLIND, the first volume of the Case Files of Justis Fearsson. The second book, HIS FATHER’S EYES, will also be released in summer 2015. David is part of the Magical Words group blog www.magicalwords.net, and co-author of How To Write Magical Words: A Writer’s Companion. His books have been translated into more than a dozen languages.
New York Times bestselling author Faith Hunter has written the Jane Yellowrock series and the Rogue Mage series, as well as the Rogue Mage Role Playing Game. The Soulwood series will be a paranormal crime solving trilogy featuring Nell Nicholson Ingram. Under the pen name Gwen Hunter, she has written action adventure, mysteries, and thrillers. Under all her pen names, she has more than 30 books in print in 29 countries.
Faith is a workaholic and playaholic who makes jewelry, collects orchids and bones, travels in her RV with her hubby and dogs, and white-water kayaks in Class II and III rivers all over the southeast. She also tries to keep house and cook, but since she started writing two books a year, she may have forgotten how to turn on the appliances.
Websites:
www.faithhunter.net
www.facebook.com/official.faith.hunter
www.yellowrocksecurities.com
Table of Contents
Introduction
Authors’ Note
Water Witch
About the Authors
Table of Contents
Introduction
Authors’ Note
Water Witch
About the Authors
