“Oww! Owww!” There was no doubt; Diccon was back where he belonged. Will-Corwen released the boy, who rolled away. The goblins grabbed him by the arms, pulled him to the far side of the warehouse, and shoved him down to the floor.
“Stay down if you want to live.”
Diccon stayed.
The wolf grabbed Walsingham’s spell book from where it had dropped from Philip’s hand. He brought it to me, but I was still pinned down by Walsingham’s spell.
“Good,” I said. “Don’t lose it.”
The wolf turned into a man, naked except for the bag over his shoulder. He shoved the book in the bag and began to change back.
No wait. This body. I like it. That was Will speaking. He jiggled up and down and then put his hands to his groin. It’s a long time since I’ve felt—
Corwen flipped back to wolf form.
Grow up, Tremayne.
It’s all right for you.
No, it’s not.
Philip’s spirit, now free, spun, fueled by anger. He tried to get close to me, but I wouldn’t let him near.
“Go back where you came from, Philip. You’ve been here too long.”
“Philip? What’s happening?” Walsingham called.
“Philip doesn’t have a tongue anymore,” I said, “Or a body. I’m sending him back to the spirit world.”
“No!”
“No!”
Philip and Walsingham spoke at once, but I wasn’t sure Walsingham could hear Philip.
“Philip, come to me,” Walsingham said.
I’m sure he didn’t mean it literally—at least I don’t think he did, but Philip was in a panic now, taking any chance to retain his hold on the world. He shot toward Walsingham.
“Philip, no!” I put as much command in my voice as I could, but Walsingham’s spell still had me trapped on the floor.
I saw Philip’s spirit begin to batter the fringes of Walsingham’s personality.
Walsingham flinched, and I felt his immobility spell weaken. I rolled over with great difficulty, and sat up, feeling as if a ton weight was pressing me down to the ground. “Philip!”
But Philip was deaf to my call. I saw him sink his spirit hands into Walsingham’s flesh. Walsingham jerked upright on his box. His back arched and he clawed at his face with his good hand.
I saw their spirits merge.
For a tense moment nothing happened, then Walsingham began to laugh. “I can see through his eyes! I can see.” He turned his head this way and that. I saw Philip’s eyes looking out of Walsingham’s ruined ones. “And my arm—I can feel it.” He waved the stump of his left arm in the air, and I swear I could see a phantom arm and hand. “Oh, I’d have done this sooner if I’d known!”
He stood and faced us.
“Philip is mine. He’s my eyes, my hand. His power is my power.”
Walsingham seemed to swell. He reached out his phantom hand. “My book. Where is my book? Give it to me.”
I felt the pull. He had acquired Philip’s power to summon. The book was safe in Corwen’s Fae bag. I didn’t know how Walsingham could wrest it from him. In effect, it was in another world while ever Corwen was in wolf form. Surely Walsingham-Philip couldn’t summon it all the way from Iaru.
Walsingham stood, his eyes glittering with a feverish energy. He turned his attention to the wolf. What Philip knew, Walsingham knew. That worked in reverse. What Philip didn’t know was also important. Philip hadn’t realized both Will and Corwen were sharing one body. He thought the wolf was Will and therefore didn’t expect that the wolf could regain humanity.
When Corwen changed back to naked man, it surprised him, but Walsingham still thought he was confronting Will. “Give me the book, Tremayne.”
The bag in which the book was stored lifted free of Corwen’s side and, as if drawn by a lodestone, strained toward Walsingham. Corwen threw his weight against the strap that held the bag but was being drawn inexorably closer.
We . . . must . . . change. That was Corwen.
No. Stay human. Better chance. That was Will.
Will didn’t appreciate the devastating importance of the book. If Corwen could change back to wolf, then the book would be inaccessible to Walsingham, but Will was fighting him—fighting the change.
Suddenly, one of the goblins who had helped Diccon to the side of the warehouse sprang into action and flung himself at Corwen’s bag, crashing it and Will-Corwen down to the ground.
Corwen took the opportunity to quickly change back to wolf. There was an echo of, Damn you, wolf-man, from Will.
Walsingham roared his disappointment.
Keep the book safe, Tremayne. Whatever happens to us, Walsingham mustn’t get it.
The goblin rolled sideways, away from the wolf. Walsingham flung a twist of paper into the air and a glowing ball of energy formed in an instant. It swooped down on the unfortunate goblin, exploding inside him so that he was, for an instant, illuminated like the sun, then suddenly reduced to a pile of ash.
It was pure frustration that Walsingham vented against the goblin. He daren’t destroy Corwen like that because he might also destroy the book.
I concentrated on Walsingham-Philip, unsure if I should try to separate them. Together, they were enormously powerful, but one of those entities was Philip, and he’d never worked well with others.
I summoned Philip experimentally and found him deeply entrenched within Walsingham and hanging on for dear life. That gave me an idea. Instead of summoning Philip, I summoned Walsingham’s spirit, trying to dislodge it from its own body.
Philip immediately caught onto the idea.
“What? No!” Walsingham said that to the Philip inside him. “You need me. You need me!”
I could no longer hear Philip, but I knew what was going on. Walsingham was being pushed back and back, out of his own consciousness. He was being sundered. Philip had had the practice.
And with each reduction in Walsingham’s tenure of his own body, I regained more and more movement. I managed to get to my knees and then stumble to my feet. Drawing my last loaded pistol from my sash, I pulled back the doghead and shot Walsingham or, maybe now, Philip smack between the eyes.
Then I sank to my knees and wept.
The doors crashed open. Goblins and sailors poured in from the front and back of the building, led by Twomax from one direction and Windward from the other. Will-Corwen changed back to human and stepped aside to quickly drag on breeches and a shirt.
“Ross!” He knelt beside me.
I flung myself into his arms, not caring, for the moment, whether it was Will or Corwen. He kissed me.
“Will!”
“Ah, my love, I have missed you. I want to stay with you forever. I’ll share this body with your wolf-man and love you as he does. I don’t think so, Tremayne. This was a temporary alliance born out of necessity. Say your good-byes and let’s get it over with.”
Hearing them arguing with each other in the same voice shocked me back to reality.
“You can’t stay, Will.”
“Why not? Do you love him more than me?”
“It’s not a question you should ask, now or ever. I loved you with all my heart, but you died. I have a new life now, a new love. I will always love you, Will, but by all the laws of the universe, you must return to your rest and surrender Corwen’s body.”
Corwen, wisely, said nothing.
For a time, neither did Will. I could almost hear him thinking.
At length he sighed. “I know. Thank you, wolf-man, for giving me the chance to say good-bye. Set me free, sweet Rossalinde, and I’ll lead these two damned souls so deep into the nether-world that not even you will be able to call them back.”
“You’re a free spirit, Will. You always have been and always will be.”
I didn’t even have to pull very hard
. I drew Will’s spirit from Corwen’s body and watched him round up both Philip and Walsingham and drag them away.
I was left in Corwen’s arms.
52
The Book
THE GOBLINS TOOK charge of Walsingham’s corpse, burning it to ash on a pyre of packing crates on the bank of the Thames. He couldn’t come back from that and neither could Philip. I would deal with my feelings later. If it was possible to kill someone who was already dead, I’d killed my brother not once, but twice.
I bound Hookey’s leg with a brandy-soaked bandage, thankful that the bullet had gone straight through without hitting a spurting blood vessel.
Despite being in pain, Hookey had sent Lazy Billy to ask the watermen to wait and had then taken charge of Diccon. Diccon’s leg wound was sore, but after the spell that Walsingham had used, it hadn’t opened up again. Just like Hookey’s wound, the bullet had gone right through without snagging anything vital. He would recover, physically at least.
Hookey offered him a place on the Heart’s crew, but he declined, saying he needed to find his mother. I hoped he succeeded. I wasn’t going to get involved. It was over now. All we had to do was dispose of the book.
“Have you still got it?” I asked Corwen quietly.
“I have.”
“Have you read it?”
“I have not. Nor do I want to.”
“How do we destroy it?”
“Your Aunt Rosie will know.”
Dawn was streaking the eastern sky with lavender fingers, and the wind had dropped as the crew carried Hookey back to the boats on a board. I was exempt from carrying duties. The twins had begun to wake again and carrying them was all the exercise I needed. We said our good-byes to Mr. Twomax and the goblins at Mill Wall Stairs. They were going upriver as far as Westminster, while we were going back to Wapping.
Back to the Heart of Oak.
Hookey grumbled at us for making a fuss but didn’t object when we sent for Lady Henrietta. She arrived before breakfast and carried him off to her London house, promising to send for her own surgeon to tend him. I gave him a hug as he departed, and Lady Henrietta grinned at me. “I’ll take good care of him.”
“I know you will.”
Mr. Rafiq, who had been, all this time, guarding the Heart with the other half of her crew, took charge. We all dined on Lazy Billy’s breakfast of porridge with bacon and hunks of fresh bread, still warm from the bakery.
By midmorning, we’d received a message from Lady Henrietta that the surgeon had declared himself satisfied that the wound was clean, and Hookey was sleeping, aided by a dose of laudanum strong enough to fell an ox.
Mr. Rafiq smiled. “We’ve time for one more cargo of wool to France and brandy back to Sussex before the war against Boney resumes. I can handle that. Let Captain Garrity spend some time with his Etta before we sail again.”
I had a feeling that Hookey might find a string of excuses to keep returning to Rye Harbor. I heartily approved.
“What about when the war starts again? I’m not insisting that you sail into danger.”
“I think you’ll find we’ve had enough of peace time.”
“You’ll go back to Bacalao?”
“With our Letters of Marque for the Heart and the Butterfly.”
“Give my regards to Captain Sharpner.”
He smiled. “I will, and I’ll look after your investment.”
“I know you will.”
Corwen and I spent one last night in the Town of Ramsgate and woke the following morning long after the Heart had sailed. I didn’t like dockside good-byes.
“You’ll always miss that part of your life,” Corwen said. “But it’s not as if you’ll never see them again.”
“I know,” I patted my belly. “Besides, I’m going to be busy for a while. These little monsters have been dancing on my bladder all night, and it’s only going to get worse between now and November.”
He put one warm hand on the small of my back and rubbed my ever-increasing belly with the other, then bent and kissed it through my nightgown.
“No more breeches for a while,” he said.
“I’m afraid not.”
“Don’t sound so rueful.”
“I’m not. Really I’m not.” I almost believed myself.
We dressed, breakfasted, and then collected Timpani and Dancer from the Red Lion stables. On the way out of London, we called at Margaret Street to catch up with Lily and George and let them know that the Walsingham problem had been solved.
Lily hugged us both for a long time without saying anything. And then made us tell everything in the minutest of detail.
We disclosed everything except Philip’s threat to take up residence in one of our babies. I thought that might upset her too much, especially if she was contemplating motherhood herself.
George said they would see us back in Yorkshire four days from now. They had an appointment with an architect to talk about drawing up plans for a new house on the hillside above the mill.
“We’ll need a place of our own if you two are going to fill Denby House with children,” Lily said. “And it will be close enough to visit. I thought we might include an apartment for Mother, so she can spend some time with us.”
“I’m sure she’ll like that,” Corwen said.
“My grandfather asked me to remind you about the place in Parliament,” George said. “He says the suggestion comes from Mr. Pitt himself. There’s no rush, but he asks you to think about it once you’ve settled yourselves in Yorkshire.”
Corwen promised he would consider it carefully, and we left Lily and George to their plans.
Our way to Aunt Rosie’s led us through Iaru, so we stopped off to see David, pleased to find that Annie was with him again.
“Father has given in gracefully,” David said. “And Annie has consented to marry me. We’re going to do it twice, a handfasting here and a church wedding with Reverend Purdy officiating. We’d like you to come, of course.”
“We’d be delighted.” I hugged him, and then I hugged Annie for good measure. “Are you happy?” I whispered.
Her broad grin told me everything I wanted to know.
“It’s good to see everything coming right for everyone,” I said. “We’ve had Walsingham and the Mysterium hanging over our heads for too long. It will be good to please ourselves and not be pushed this way and that by the Fae.”
“Though you know you’re their first port of call if they want anything from the human world,” David said. “It almost seems worth Corwen taking that seat in Parliament.”
“I wasn’t fobbing him off when I told George I’d think about it,” Corwen said.
“I know,” I said. “I recognized the signs, but let’s have our babies first.”
“Of course.”
We made our way to Summoner’s Well and found Leo in the forge, without customers for once, blowing air through the fire with bellows.
“What are you making?” I asked, looking around to see if there was anything half-made.
“Nothing. Rosie said you’d be coming today and I was to get the fire nice and hot as you’d have something to burn.”
“Ah, it sounds as though Aunt Rosie is ahead of us.”
“Ahead of you and fully behind you.” Aunt Rosie came into the forge, dusting off her hands on her apron. “You’ve got it, then?”
“We have, and Walsingham is no more.” We’d tell her the whole story, including the way I’d had to kill my own brother for the second time, once we’d disposed of the book.
“I had Leo make this.” From the bench at the side of the forge, Rosie took a contraption that consisted of two hinged iron frames, roughly book-sized, with a short handle that flattened out. “Put the book in here.”
Corwen took it out of his pocket and offered it to her. “No, you’ve touched it
. You put it in the iron. I don’t want to handle it.”
“Aren’t you a little bit curious to know what’s in it,” I said.
“No,” Rosie answered. “You didn’t peep, did you?”
I shook my head.
“You?” she asked Corwen.
“No.”
“Good.” She turned around. “Leo, will you do the honors?”
Leo latched the hinges, sealing the book inside, picked it up with a huge pair of iron tongs, and shoved it into the white-hot heart of the fire. It smoked and then burst into flames with an ear-splitting shriek. Then instead of powdering to ash, it began to melt, oozing blood which boiled and spat in the flames and then burned with oily black smoke and a whimpering sound. At last the whole lot was consumed until only the iron was left.
“You know what to do?” Rosie asked.
“Aye,” Leo said. “Break the iron up and bury it deep in four separate places, here, the Old Maizy, Iaru, and the Okewood.”
“Right,” Aunt Rosie said. “I think we could all do with a nice cup of tea and a piece of cake.”
Tea and cake. Medicine for whatever ails you.
53
Twins
ON THE LAST day of October Aunt Rosie arrived at Denby House with her midwife’s bag and a reassuring smile.
“I thought we’d have to send for you when it was time,” I said as I eased myself into a chair in the drawing room.
“It’s time,” Aunt Rosie said. “Or it will be tomorrow.”
“Oh! I’ve been feeling as big as a house side for weeks now. I’ve been hoping it would be today, and today and today. I thought I must have got my dates wrong.”
Aunt Rosie laughed. “I’ve been keeping track.”
She looked at me and Corwen. “Have you two been keeping up your marital relations?”
“What? Aunt Rosie, I have a bump the size of a small mountain.”
“That’s no excuse. Tonight. It’ll remind those two how they got in there and tell them it’s time to come out. It may be an old wives’ tale, but it works, trust me. Have you been taking your raspberry leaf tea?”
“Every day.”
Rowankind (3 Book Series) Page 45
