continued to grumble in the back of her throat.
He dropped to the settle in front of his counter, trying to make sense of what he had discovered. The murderer of Edith Brook had not only written those words on the wall and signed them with the spider symbol, he had used the girl’s blood to do it. How had he obtained it before her death? For it was certain that the writing had appeared on the wall before the girl had been killed. There was, of course, only one logical answer, and Luke’s mouth dried as he considered that solution and its implications. Although he had knowledge of the sang-tireur, this was the first time he had encountered it. Goose pimples stood on his arms, making him shiver. The sang-tireur was an evil spell whereby a sorcerer could draw blood at will from his victim, rather like one would milk a cow, whilst keeping the poor unfortunates behaving as usual but not in charge of their minds or bodies. This had to mean that Edith had been in the enemy’s thrall for some time. A whole new raft of possibilities had arisen, including more evidence that his adversary was indeed a sunderer, one of the highest abilities and a member of Custodes Tenebris. Nimrod.
He was given no time to ponder further because Will Quayne burst in through the door, his hair disheveled, face red from the exertion of running. His breath came in gasping whoops. Joss leapt to place herself in front of Luke, who sprang up, his experiment forgotten. He grabbed his friend’s arm.
“Will? What is amiss?”
“You must come, Luke. They have taken father and Bertila. They say her scar was eliminated by sorcery. They are both charged with witchcraft.”
Chapter Ten
“Who has taken them? Where?”
Luke pushed Will down onto the settle and poured out a goblet of wine, slipping in a few drops of the calming serenity mix he usually gave swooning maidens. Will downed the contents in one draught. His free hand continually combed through his dark hair, but the wild look faded from his eyes.
“I went to see him. We have not been close of late. My fault. Sabina is with child again and things are not as harmonious at home as usual.”
“Why did you choose today to go?”
“I cannot say in truth. I have been working at my desk all morning, and the urge to see Bertila grew stronger and stronger until I decided I could not put it off a moment longer. I arrived at the house to find the new maid weeping in the fireplace. By dint of soft words and cajoling, I finally found out that the Hampton priest, Frayner, had come with four officers, accused Father and Bertila of witchcraft and escorted them away, although what authority he has in Hampton Wick, I do not know.”
“How could anyone think that of either of them? Unless, of course, it is Frayner’s revenge for me forcing him to promise Christian burial to poor Edith Brook. Surely no priest would go so far with such an obviously fabricated charge as this?”
“They said that Bertila’s face being made whole and unblemished after so many years of disfigurement was plainly the work of the evil one. I went to see Sir William Petrie to explain that a medical specialist had cured her of an inner malady last year, but he refuses to involve himself.”
“That does not surprise me,” Luke said, kicking the settle. “Sir William would not cross a road to help a friend if he thought there was the faintest chance of a galloping horse happening along. Where have they taken them?”
“I do not know. None will tell me. Luke, can you send for your doctor friend and ask him to explain how he repaired the damage done by the acid?”
“Alas, Will, he is in France. However, I will see what I can do. Small comfort for you, my friend, but try not to worry. What concerns me more is why Frayner is involved and to what extent. What do you know of him?”
“Very little. He is lately come to the Hampton preferment, having been, I believe, in the west country.”
“His accent is not of the
He dropped to the settle in front of his counter, trying to make sense of what he had discovered. The murderer of Edith Brook had not only written those words on the wall and signed them with the spider symbol, he had used the girl’s blood to do it. How had he obtained it before her death? For it was certain that the writing had appeared on the wall before the girl had been killed. There was, of course, only one logical answer, and Luke’s mouth dried as he considered that solution and its implications. Although he had knowledge of the sang-tireur, this was the first time he had encountered it. Goose pimples stood on his arms, making him shiver. The sang-tireur was an evil spell whereby a sorcerer could draw blood at will from his victim, rather like one would milk a cow, whilst keeping the poor unfortunates behaving as usual but not in charge of their minds or bodies. This had to mean that Edith had been in the enemy’s thrall for some time. A whole new raft of possibilities had arisen, including more evidence that his adversary was indeed a sunderer, one of the highest abilities and a member of Custodes Tenebris. Nimrod.
He was given no time to ponder further because Will Quayne burst in through the door, his hair disheveled, face red from the exertion of running. His breath came in gasping whoops. Joss leapt to place herself in front of Luke, who sprang up, his experiment forgotten. He grabbed his friend’s arm.
“Will? What is amiss?”
“You must come, Luke. They have taken father and Bertila. They say her scar was eliminated by sorcery. They are both charged with witchcraft.”
Chapter Ten
“Who has taken them? Where?”
Luke pushed Will down onto the settle and poured out a goblet of wine, slipping in a few drops of the calming serenity mix he usually gave swooning maidens. Will downed the contents in one draught. His free hand continually combed through his dark hair, but the wild look faded from his eyes.
“I went to see him. We have not been close of late. My fault. Sabina is with child again and things are not as harmonious at home as usual.”
“Why did you choose today to go?”
“I cannot say in truth. I have been working at my desk all morning, and the urge to see Bertila grew stronger and stronger until I decided I could not put it off a moment longer. I arrived at the house to find the new maid weeping in the fireplace. By dint of soft words and cajoling, I finally found out that the Hampton priest, Frayner, had come with four officers, accused Father and Bertila of witchcraft and escorted them away, although what authority he has in Hampton Wick, I do not know.”
“How could anyone think that of either of them? Unless, of course, it is Frayner’s revenge for me forcing him to promise Christian burial to poor Edith Brook. Surely no priest would go so far with such an obviously fabricated charge as this?”
“They said that Bertila’s face being made whole and unblemished after so many years of disfigurement was plainly the work of the evil one. I went to see Sir William Petrie to explain that a medical specialist had cured her of an inner malady last year, but he refuses to involve himself.”
“That does not surprise me,” Luke said, kicking the settle. “Sir William would not cross a road to help a friend if he thought there was the faintest chance of a galloping horse happening along. Where have they taken them?”
“I do not know. None will tell me. Luke, can you send for your doctor friend and ask him to explain how he repaired the damage done by the acid?”
“Alas, Will, he is in France. However, I will see what I can do. Small comfort for you, my friend, but try not to worry. What concerns me more is why Frayner is involved and to what extent. What do you know of him?”
“Very little. He is lately come to the Hampton preferment, having been, I believe, in the west country.”
“His accent is not of the
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