Page 19

The pain was instantaneous, like an electric shock. Lydia took a moment to catch her breath. “No. She’s not. But through no fault of yours.”

Henry looked surprised. “What happened?”

“A Nazi witch murdered her.”

Henry seemed at a loss. He inspected a groove in the table, worrying it with his finger. “A witch.”

“Yes.”

“So, then Kitty…”

“Was a witch. Yes.”

Henry looked at Lydia. “And… you ?”

She smiled. Henry stood and refilled his cup with shaking hands.

“Henry, I know this is difficult, but I need to know. Where is the book now?”

“I don’t know.”

“Henry—”

“No, I honestly don’t know. When René took it away, I told him I didn’t want to know where he was going. I figured your friend Kitty probably wasn’t the only person looking for it. If someone else came around, I wanted to be sure they wouldn’t be able to find out where he’d taken it.”

Damn. “Where is René now?”

Henry exhaled. “I don’t know. He said he would write after he’d hidden the book to let me know he was okay. That was over a month ago. I haven’t heard anything since.”

He was in pain. The love for his mentor sharpening into a weapon, pointed at his own heart. Lydia understood. “I’m sorry.”

He nodded, but didn’t look at her.

“Henry, yesterday you said that it felt like the book was whispering to you. What did you mean by that?”

Henry stared into the fire. Lydia waited. He said something under his breath, so softly she couldn’t make it out.

“Henry?”

“It wanted me to read it. Out loud.” He looked at her. “I don’t know how I know that. I just do.”

Lydia felt a chill run through her. “But you didn’t.”

“I couldn’t. I didn’t know how. But that didn’t make it stop. Every time I touched it, it was like voices in my head, this constant chattering. I thought I was losing my mind.”

“What about René? Did he hear it too?”

Henry shook his head.

“Fascinating.” Lydia watched Henry with new interest. “Your mother. I think she must be a witch.”

Henry looked up at her so sharply that Lydia felt her breath catch. “What makes you say that?”

She forced herself to smile, even though his reaction had caught her off guard. “I meant no offense. Not all who practice the old ways call themselves witches. But I believe she must have some magic in her. That’s why the book spoke to you. You have her blood.”

“So, I’m a witch now too?”

Lydia considered it. Magic in men was rare, but not unheard of.

What was it her gran used to say? Men have power the moment they enter the world.

Women have to make their own. Only that wasn’t quite true, was it?

Only certain men were born with the sort of power her gran had been referring to.

And Henry was most certainly not one of them.

“I don’t know. Do most ordinary men know how to cast a cleansing spell like the one upstairs?”

He stood with his hands in his pockets and didn’t answer.

“Henry, I realize you have no reason to trust me. But if the Nazis get to that book before I do, it could mean the end of everything. I have to find it.”

Henry regarded her for a moment, then looked away. “I don’t know how to help you. I don’t even know if I should help you, but it doesn’t matter. The book is gone.”

“There are ways to track it down. I could have traced it from the room upstairs, but that cleansing spell you cast has made that impossible. That leaves me with one other option.”

“Which is?”

“ You touched the book. An object that powerful leaves behind a mark. It will be faint, but it could be enough.”

Henry stiffened. “No.”

“Henry…”

“ No. Maybe you’re telling me the truth, and maybe you’re on the right side of all this, but I can’t take that chance.”

“Henry, please just—”

“What would you even do with it once you found it?” His eyes bored into hers, accusing her. “This thing must be pretty powerful for you to go to all this trouble. You’re afraid of what the Nazis will do once they get their hands on it, but what about you? What will you do?”

“I would never—”

“ I don’t know you . You want my help, but all you’ve given me since the moment we met is lies and magic tricks. Why would I trust you?”

His intensity was startling, and Lydia felt herself go still as a rabbit under his gaze. After a moment he seemed to deflate. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I just…I can’t help you.”

They sat in silence as the fire burned down, and the chill that had been creeping at the edges of the room seemed to unfurl. After a long time, Henry stood and began clearing the plates and cups from the table. Lydia watched him, and just as he was about to finish, she spoke.

“What about your friend?”

He cocked his head. A warning. “What about him?”

“He’s been missing how long now?”

Henry exhaled slowly. “Almost five weeks.”

“I can find him, you know. If he’s still with the book, that is. Even if he’s not, it would be a start.”

Moments passed, and she watched as his features seemed to sag. He shook his head.

“That’s not right,” he said softly.

Lydia felt a shudder of something like shame go through her. “What?”

He looked away from her. “You’re ransoming my friend so I’ll help you.” He shook his head again. “I’ll do it. But it’s not right.” Henry turned to go.

“Wait.” Lydia’s cheeks were hot, and there was a sick, churning feeling inside her stomach, but she carried on. “There’s something else.”

Henry looked at her. She hated that look, the resigned contempt in it.

“Tracing an object through another person. It’s hard. Messy. I’ve done it before, but I was with a full coven. I’m not strong enough to do it alone.”

Henry rubbed his hand along the back of his neck. “I’m not sure how to help you there. I don’t think there are any covens around here I can just call up.”

“No, I didn’t think so.” She swallowed to steady her voice. “I might be able to do it alone, if we were in a place of power.”

“A what?”

“A place of power, like a stone circle, or a spring, perhaps a burial mound. England is covered with them. I suppose France is, too, but I don’t know the land here.

Not just any spring will do, you understand.

There’s a feeling, it’s…” She faltered, unsure how to explain what it felt like to stand in such a place to someone who had never experienced it.

He regarded her for a moment in silence, and Lydia saw something settle over him—a decision being made. The wariness was still there in his eyes. She couldn’t blame him. Still, she held her breath and hoped.