Page 44 of The Sea Witch (Salt & Sorcery #1)

Ben reared back. “You didn’t tell me.”

“I hadn’t remembered,” Alys protested. “Not until now. The way you moved a moment ago—it jogged my memory. We took the book

from a merchant ship months back.”

Light from Alys’s balancing had begun to fade, and deep shadows filled the room. Even in this darkness, he couldn’t stand

the sight of his markings any longer. He pulled on his shirt and paced to the window. Night loomed over Domingo Town, the

buildings forming black shapes against a violet sky, and the first stars appearing like indifferent gods.

His body and mind were still in a riot from pleasuring Alys.

Never had he been so uninhibited with a lover, more himself in those moments than he had ever been, and hell if he didn’t

love that feeling. She showed him how to make that happen. Because he’d wanted nothing more than to give her pleasure.

His joy had evaporated the moment he saw his markings.

He braced his hands on the window frame. “I want to see this book.”

“I don’t have it anymore.” Her voice came close behind him, but he kept staring out the window and its view of dusk descending

over town. “Nobody aboard the Sea Witch knew the language it was written in, so I bartered it with a mage for texts we could read. That’s why I couldn’t quite recall—it wasn’t in my possession long.”

He wheeled around. “I—”

Bells rang out, shattering the night’s calm. Loud, clamorous bells that signaled danger.

Ben immediately pulled on his waistcoat and coat, and Alys stuffed her feet into her shoes, not bothering with stockings.

Panicked footsteps sounded in the hallway outside, mingling with people’s confused, nervous voices.

Alys’s balancing light had faded entirely, so Ben wrenched open the door to their room and stepped into the corridor. He grabbed

the arm of a man attempting to hurry past.

“What’s going on?” Ben demanded.

“A chickcharney has been spotted on the edge of town,” the man yelped. “Been over a decade since such a beast bothered us,

but it’s here now. Hurry, sir. To the shelters.”

Ben released the man’s arm and he scurried away. More people pushed past, rushing to get to safety.

Alys shouldered her way out of the room and together they joined the throng pouring out of the inn. But instead of following

the crowds heading to the shelters, Alys tugged Ben in the opposite direction. Toward the church.

“No one’s around,” she explained. “Now’s our chance to find that register.”

“And risk an attack by a chickcharney, whatever that is.”

“Resembles an owl, long legs, red eyes, tail that can grip things, and stands about yea high.” She held her hand three feet

off the ground. “It can be kind to travelers, but something’s riled it.”

“If the creature’s riled, the last thing we want is to cross its path.”

She sprinted to a nearby clothesline and snatched a coral-colored petticoat from it. “Use this to beguile it, and whatever you do, don’t laugh at the chickcharney. Or it’ll twist your head right off.”

“With that image in my mind, it’s not likely I’ll do much laughing.”

Alys grabbed his hand and together, they ran against the human tide. She was much nimbler, darting between gaps in the crowd,

while he had to muscle his way through as he clutched the petticoat in one hand.

As they ran in the opposite direction, the throng began to thin. The bells stopped as well, signaling that everyone had taken

shelter. No lights shone in storefronts, no torches or lamps burned on the street. Darkness and silence smothered the town.

Finally, Ben and Alys reached the steps of All Saints church. No one was around, only them and the shadows. And the looming

threat of a creature that could remove Ben’s head from his neck like pulling an apple from a tree branch.

Ben tugged on the church’s door, but it held fast. Alys knelt down to place her hand on the doorknob.

“There’s a spell for everything, it seems,” he said dryly.

“Magic’s got many uses. I can’t speak for mages, but a witch will do what she must to keep herself safe. But,” she added,

“these’ll do the job without taxing my power.” She pulled two thin pins from her hair and held them up with a smile.

He shook his head as she set about picking the lock. As she worked, he kept his attention on the dark streets, alert should

anyone—or any thing —pass by.

“A pistol or cutlass makes for better protection than a petticoat.” He gripped the yards of fabric, crushing the cotton in

his fist. “The creature that’s out there—”

“The chickcharney,” she said, focused on her task. “It’s found on Andros in the Bahamas, but a few have been spotted here. We once rescued a witch from Domingo. She told us about it. Had us all shivering in our berths for a week. Now, silence yourself and let me concentrate.”

He said nothing further as she continued to manipulate the pins within the door’s lock.

“Easy, my sweet one. A little more, and then—” She grinned up at him when there was a clicking sound. “The Norham schoolmaster

impressed upon us to be always humble. But, the hell with that.”

She stood and shook out her skirts before opening the door and slipping inside. Ben followed, shutting the door behind him.

They were plunged into the darkness of the narthex, and beyond that, the stillness and shadows of the nave. Though they had

been there only a few hours earlier, the church was now vast and echoing, made more eerie with the knowledge that a creature

lurked outside.

He stepped into the aisle between the empty pews. “Small as this church is, we’ll still have a devil of a time searching for

the parish register.”

“ Here ’s where my magic comes into play.” She cupped her hands and whispered into them with words he could not understand.

As she spoke, a small glow appeared between her fingers. She opened her palms and the glow hovered above them. Soft pinkish

gold light illuminated her face and a small area surrounding them.

In this glow, she was a being of brightness and shadow, lovelier than any moonrise.

“I summoned the light of a firefly and combined it with a bee’s sense of direction.” To the ball of light, she added, “Go,

my friend. Lead us to what we’re looking for.”

The glowing sphere darted away and they chased after it. It shot up the aisle, then into the chancel at the front of the church.

They hurried in pursuit. It alighted upon the freestanding wooden altar, faintly humming.

“In here.” She laid her hand atop the fair cloth draped over the altar.

It had been years since he’d last attended a mass. Even so, he asked forgiveness from whatever deity might be observing as

he removed the altar covering. He carefully folded it and set it on the front pew before returning to the altar.

“There’s a kind of puzzle mechanism carved into the wood.” He placed the petticoat on a pew, then glided his hands over the

altar panels. Several of the pieces seemed to be grooved, fitting into each other. He slid them back and forth, rearranging

them. At first, nothing happened when he did this.

But then he slid the pieces into a different configuration, forming the shape of the church’s layout. And then, there was

a satisfying snick . One side of the altar popped open. Gently, he removed the wooden slat and also placed it on the pew.

Alys reached into the open space within the altar. She pulled a leather tome out, nearly identical in appearance to the register

they had seen earlier. At once, she sat cross-legged on the floor and opened it, placing her hand on its pages.

“There’s no reason for Reverend Gardiner to lie about this register’s existence.” Ben crouched down beside her.

“I can’t read this language, but these entries look suspect.” She flipped to the back of the register and pointed to a page

covered in columns of numbers, with words written beside them.

“Latin.” He muttered, “These are records of trades. Spices for brandy. Flour for bolts of cotton. Christ.”

“Something else?”

“The good reverend is a thorough recordkeeper. He’s documented how the town fathers have been embezzling hundreds of pounds

over the course of decades. I suspect Reverend Gardiner plans on using this evidence to blackmail the leaders of Domingo Town,

should it ever be necessary.”

“Small wonder he insists this was destroyed in a fire. Still...”

“We’re after a different prize.”

Alys flipped back and forth between pages in the register. “Here’s Ralph Dunwood... his daughter, Miss Olivia Dunwood... who married William Lambert... and they had a son...” Her voice trailed off.

“What?” Ben demanded. “Who was her son?”

She looked up, her expression wide and disbelieving. “Lethal Lambert.”

“Olivia Dunwood named her son Lethal ?”

Alys gripped his sleeve. “That’s not his name. Well, it is his name. He was christened Charles Lambert, but he’s been known as Lethal Lambert ever since he skewered French Henry with

Henry’s own cutlass. Born into wealth but turned pirate when he learned his father had bankrupted the estate.”

Ben rubbed his forehead, attempting to keep track of all the twists of Lethal Lambert’s life. “And he has the fail-safe.”

“The clue at the waterfall said it was at Lambert’s table.” She rose, leaving the register on the floor.

“A tabletop mountain? Perhaps an arithmetic table.”

Also standing, Ben left the register where it was. Let the parishioners of All Saints discover Reverend Gardiner’s record

of blackmail.

“Lethal Lambert’s family owned an estate near the Bahamas, but it was sold to pay their debts.” Alys started down the aisle,

back toward the door. The ball of light followed her, a faithful servant. “After New Providence became law-abiding, Lambert

used his prize money to buy the estate back and turn his family estate into a haven for pirates. Every now and again, he’ll

throw a massive party. Feasts that would rival any king’s.”

“Sir Fenfield’s nephew’s cousin’s daughter’s son’s table,” Ben said wonderingly. “And that’s where we’ll find the fail-safe.

God willing.”

“ Goddess willing.”

They reached the narthex, and she held up her hand. The ball of light perched on her palm.

“Thank you, friend,” she murmured to it.

The glowing ball hummed before winking out.

“The Sea Witch should be waiting for us where we left it,” she said. “Town’s deserted. It’ll be easy enough to reach our landing spot.”

She pushed the door open, took two steps, then lurched to a stop, throwing her arm in front of Ben.

The chickcharney stood in front of the church.