The Witch's Thief Read online

  Basil followed his assistant, his friend, feeling rather useless as he could not risk any more use of his own magic. Using the mirror for magic was going to sap enough of his strength to make it a danger.

  Minutes seemed like hours until they at last discovered the ballroom.

  Basil’s eyes had grown accustomed to the dim, shadowy darkness of the corridors. As they entered the ballroom, he was assaulted by the brightness of Reed’s light spell reflected in a dozen mirrors, all of various shapes and sizes lining one entire wall. Reed closed his outstretched hand, extinguishing the light. The nearly full moon shining in a cloudless night sky emitted enough light to see without the need for spells.

  “Will one of these work?” Reed asked, his voice a hushed whisper.

  Basil nodded. “I’m certain of it.”

  “Which?”

  “A tall one,” Basil answered. He reached his hand out to the one nearest him. It stood six feet in height and at least that much in width. He closed his eyes and concentrated on his power, stretching his magic into the mirror, seeking the correct destination. When he couldn’t feel the connection he searched for, he moved onto another.

  “I need one large enough to walk through,” Basil commented, as he searched.

  “There’s plenty to choose from here,” Reed said. “And if one of these don’t work, I’ll begin a search into the other rooms. There’s bound to be more in one of the bedchambers.”

  “If one of these are not suitable to my needs, we leave this place. You have a wife and daughter to think of now. I’ll not have you risk your neck any further, Reed.”

  “I’d not have wife nor daughter if it not for you, Basil. I’ll do what needs doing.”

  Basil glanced at his friend to see the solemn look of promise pass over his face. He nodded his acceptance. He never need fear that Reed would abandon him.

  He went back to work on the mirrors while Reed walked toward the windows to gaze out at the scenery beyond.

  “The snow will make the journey difficult,” Basil said, knowing the direction of his friend’s thoughts. “You need not follow me.”

  Reed turned back to him. “I’ll see you off first. Then I’ll fetch Mary and the babe, and we’ll be off to England as soon as can be. Do no worry on that. I’ll bring your notes, correspondence and books. You’ll want those to continue your work.”

  My work is finished.

  Basil glanced at Reed before turning quickly back to the mirrors to hide the sorrow in his eyes.

  But Reed saw the glance. A profound silence echoed throughout the room until Reed spoke.

  “You will continue…won’t you?”

  Basil paused his search for the mirror. He lowered his arm, turning his hand over to watch the slight tremble of his fingertips. His hand fisted tight.

  “I don’t see the point, my friend.”

  “There’s still time.”

  “Not much.”

  “Little, but enough. You cannot give up now.”

  A sound from the corridor silenced any further conversation between them.

  They moved as one, walking stealthily toward the doorway to take positions on opposite sides. Reed lifted his hands in preparation. Basil heard the whispered prelude to a binding spell. Since Basil refrained from using his magic, he relied on his physical strength to subdue anyone who came upon them. If any broke free from Reed’s spell, Basil was prepared.

  They stood in silence, awaiting the men outside.

  If they were caught and detained, there was no way Basil would live to get home in time. And he’d not let anyone stop him from getting back to his family, nor would he let anyone hurt his only friend. This was his last chance to go home, to make things right.

  Two men. The voices in the corridor sounded friendly enough, amiable, relaxed, not the sound of men searching for intruders. One laughed at a crude joke the other told and soon they passed the door and the voices were gone.

  Reed let out a relieved sigh before lowering his hands. “We’d best hurry, Mr. Merriweather,” Reed said. Again they were master and servant, a role they had played for many years. “No telling when another insomniac will wander through.”

  They moved back to the mirrors where Basil continued his search for the proper mirror. He reached out, extending his senses like he’d extend a hand. It was similar to listening to a particular tune, only instead of hearing it, he’d feel it. He needed one that he could attune to the vibrations of a mirror in his home. If he could find the right vibration, the correct tune, he could cast the spell to connect the two and he’d be able to simply walk from this room to his room in England.

  Just as he neared the end of the wall he stopped.

  “This one,” he said, wriggling his fingers to feel the vibrations of the mirror.

  He found it. This was one he could match to the one in his house.

  Reed grabbed the satchel Basil left by the door when they had entered the room and carried it to him. He opened it and grabbed the bottle he had packed at the top for easier access.

  He lifted the bottle to open it, but Basil placed his hand over it, stopping him. Reed’s gaze lifted.

  “Farewell, my friend,” Basil said, disappointed with the lump that formed in the back of his throat.

  Reed shook his head. “We will meet again.”

  “As you say.” Basil smiled at his friend’s optimism. He held his hand for Reed to shake, solidifying their good-byes. Reed took the proffered hand then pulled Basil into a brotherly embrace, slapping him solidly on the back.

  “You will find it,” Reed whispered in Basil’s ear as he held him close. “Mary and I will see you in England.”

  Basil nodded to ease his friend’s conscience. In his heart, he knew this was the last time he’d hear Reed’s deep chuckle or see his boyish grin.

  After they parted, Basil opened the bottle and shook some bluish powder onto the palm of his hand. He whispered some words and then blew the tiny particles into a cloud that clung to the glass of the mirror. He waited a moment, watching calmly as the solid surface of the mirror began to shift, to change. It wobbled and, in areas, the glass appeared to slide from one end to another. Shimmering waves crested, and Basil knew the portal was fully open.

  He glanced at Reed with a nod, and then turned back to the mirror. Taking a deep breath, he stepped into the watery glass.

  He slipped through easily enough. His arms and legs began to stretch, an invisible force tugged at him. Even though it was uncomfortable and set his teeth on edge, it was not painful.

  A moment later, he emerged on the other side, and stepped carefully into a darkened room. The flowery scent of lilacs hit his nostrils, like walking into a cloud of flowers. He inhaled deeply the aroma that reminded him of a woman from his past. Every lilac in the world smelled like her and he was just thankful that he came into contact with that particular flower as infrequently as possible.

  Disorientation hit him in the total darkness. He flung out an arm, searching for a wall to lean upon until he could regain his balance. His leg hit an object and blindly his fingers fumbled against it. Recognizing the edge of a table, he leaned his weight on it, and prayed for the dizziness to pass quickly.

  He knew that travel through the mirror would sap his already dwindling strength. But, he hadn’t suspected this disorientation or the weakness that passed rapidly through his limbs. It had been several years since he attempted to pass through a mirror, but now he knew his condition was worse than he realized.

  The table swayed, threatening to give way beneath his weight. He reached out a hand to search for the wall or something sturdy enough to hold him.

  The darkness was impenetrable. He couldn’t see a thing. Not even a hint of ambient light from any corner of the room.

  Where was he?

  He fought to control the hammering of his heart, knowing from past experience that the stress would only do him ill. But, this blindness was chilling. How could he know for certain that the mirror took him to the c
orrect destination? If he had made a mistake, a minor error in calculation, he might have gone through another mirror, into another house.

  And with the strength of his magic dwindling...

  The limbs of the table succumbed to his added weight. He heard the crack seconds before his body followed. He crumpled to the floor. And though he tried to brace himself for the impact on the hard tiles beneath, his elbow smacked against the floor and light brightened the room.

  At first, he felt relief that he could finally see, but a moment later he realized the stars that lit the room were a result of the pain from his head hitting the tiled floor. And then the darkness grew deeper...

  ****

  Julia Grey’s head jerked up, her finger poised upon a line from the ancient leather-bound text. She tilted her head, listening. Above the crackle of the fire in the hearth, she heard a noise unfamiliar from the otherwise silent library. Mrs. Prescott and her servants had retired for the evening over an hour ago, which was why Julia had crept downstairs to retrieve the hidden spellbook. With no one to witness her nocturnal reading, she had made herself comfortable at the desk with a candle for light and a fire for warmth.

  Then another sound, this time a crash in the hall, sent her leaping to her feet. The chair fell back, echoing eerily in the sudden silence.

  With her heart pounding rapidly from fright, Julia grabbed the candlestick and ventured across the room in search of the source of the unusual noise. It had come from the hall, she was certain, but who would be awake at such an hour? Whoever it may be, she’d need to form some excuse for her own presence. Hopefully, they’d take her word and return to bed. She’d need some time to return the book to its hidden niche without any prying eyes regarding her every movement.

  When she opened the door, the light from the candle and the fireplace illuminated the hall, revealing a sight that made her blink in confusion.

  A man lay on the floor, his face turned toward the wall. Had he fallen down the stairs? If so, he had taken quite a tumble since the foot of the stairs were several feet away. She saw the remnants of a hallway table scattered across the floor.

  That explained the crash.

  She took a step toward the man, thinking him a servant who had stumbled down the stairs in the dark, but stopped abruptly when she noticed the condition of his clothes. These were not the garments of a servant, nor anyone else who dwelled within Merriweather Manor this night. He wore a long coat and high black boots suited to that of a gentleman.

  Julia surmised it could be Sage, stumbling in from a night of merrymaking as he was wont to do in the early hours after midnight. But, as the wind howled with snow, she took note that his boots were wet with mud, but his coat and hair appeared dry.

  And his hair was light. Not at all like Sage’s dark-as-night hair.

  Clearly, this was a stranger come to call at Merriweather Manor.

  Or an intruder.

  Julia backed cautiously away, waiting for the man to jump to his feet at any moment. He remained unconscious on the floor, giving her the time she needed to fetch a poker from the fireplace. She returned to the hall, weapon in hand, prepared to do battle if necessary.

  She leaned over him, peering closely to see his face. It was turned against the floor, giving her no way to determine his identity without rolling him over. She bit her lip with indecision. She should call for the servants. He could be dangerous.

  He moaned.

  What if she left to get help and returned to find an empty floor? If he roused himself, he could easily hide in any of these rooms on this floor to escape detection. Her imagination flew with possible dark scenarios.

  No time to get help. She’d deal with this herself.

  She took the poker, holding it in a threatening manner and advanced on him. Leaning over, she extended her hand to his shoulder and poked. He did not waken. She gave a little more effort and rolled him onto his back.

  Now she had a better view with the illumination from the candle. It gave her just enough light to view him properly.

  She looked at his face and knew she must be dreaming.

  How else to explain the presence of this man?

  Basil Merriweather.

  Could this truly be Basil?

  His blond hair fell over his brow in a careless wave. The features she had grown accustomed to as a child had morphed into those of a man. Stronger, masculine, and handsome. Surely, an artist created this face. She touched his cheek with one finger, just to be certain this was not some illusion. His skin felt warm and rough, a day’s growth of golden whiskers bristled against her finger.

  “Miss Grey!” Parker’s voice echoed in the hall. She jumped, and snatched her hand away from Basil’s cheek as if she had been burned. The poker leapt from her other hand so that she fumbled to get purchase on it. Grasping the metal rod, she held it against her chest, feeling the rapid beat of her heart and took a step back before turning to face Mrs. Prescott’s butler rushing to meet her.

  He arrived with shirttails bunched hastily around his waist and held a candle at arm’s length in front of him.

  “I heard a crash,” Parker said on arrival, taking in the sight of the man and the broken table bits scattered around. “Is it an intruder, Miss Grey?”

  “No, no,” she said, shaking her head. A guilty flush crept up her neck as though she had been caught doing something improper, like caressing the cheek of a handsome, unconscious man. “It’s Mr. Merriweather.”

  “Mr. Merriweather?”

  “Yes, Mr. Basil Merriweather,” Julia clarified. “Apparently, he has returned.” She turned back to the man on the floor, wondering what had finally compelled him to return home after so long.

  “By my word, it is Mr. Merriweather!” Parker said and knelt down to see for himself. “How did he come to be on the floor?”

  “I don’t know. Whatever mishap has occurred, he is in need of assistance. Would you help me bring him into the library? We can settle him by the fire. Then you must rouse Mrs. Prescott. We might have to send for the doctor.”

  “It’s snowing fiercely now, Miss Grey,” Parker said. “The doctor will have to wait until morning. It’s not fit for beast nor man.”

  Blast! The blizzard. She’d forgotten. Being ensconced in the library for most of the night, the storm raging outside was the least of her worries. Just how did Basil manage to get into the house without a sound? Especially with wind that howled like a monster? It surely would have shook the doors when he opened them…

  The corner of Julia’s eye caught the sight of firelight from the hearth reflected in the full-length mirror hanging in the hall.

  Of course. That explained it. He’d come through the mirror.

  “Never mind the doctor, then,” Julia said, kneeling down beside Parker. “Help me move him closer to the fire so we can ascertain his injuries.”

  “Very well.”

  Parker lifted Basil from under his arms while Julia gathered his legs. Together they hefted him carefully into the library. Thankfully, it was not a far distance. The man might not be huge of stomach, but he was tall and muscular, making his weight a great deal for a woman and elderly servant to carry. They managed to get him to the carpet by the fireplace where Parker lowered his charge.

  “Are you all right?” Julia asked the butler, worried to see his face flushed red from exertion.

  “Fine, fine,” he muttered, catching his breath.

  Julia took a moment to do the same. Then she peeled back Basil’s coat, and looked for any signs of injury. Finding none, she took his head in her hands and searched for a wound that might be the cause for his unconsciousness. There was slight swelling at the back, which might explain why he did not wake. Other than that, she could see no obvious sign of any distress.

  “Fetch Mrs. Prescott,” Julia said at last. “She’ll know what needs to be done.”

  “Of course, ma’am.”

  She watched Parker exit the room, wishing she could go in his stead. But she found it diff
icult to pull away from Basil. Her gaze wandered back to him. She knelt at his side, looking into his sleeping face.

  “Is it really you?” she whispered in disbelief. Again, her hand wandered to his cheek, touching him there to be sure he was real. How many nights had she dreamed of him coming home? How many days had he invaded her thoughts? Now he was here and she didn’t know what to think.

  He’d been gone for so long. Ten years and two months to be exact. The last moment she’d seen him had been seared into her memory. He had met her in the garden that day. When he approached, she’d noticed the stiff set to his shoulders and something dark in his eyes she had never before seen. She had commented on it. He’d smiled, laughed at her worry and assured her all was well. Then he had kissed her. The sweetest, most memorable kiss of her existence. The next day, when she woke, she learned of his sudden departure. There had been no word from him until several days later when a letter was sent to Mrs. Prescott stating he had been called to London. A few weeks after, another letter stated his intentions to travel abroad.

  He directed all of his correspondence to his aunt, never once mentioned Julia or inquired about her whereabouts. Any hopes Julia had entertained of a union between them were dashed within months when she came to realize that he was not returning home.

  Until now...

  Julia watched his eyes slowly open.

  He blinked.

  Then his gaze swept the room before fixing on her. Her heart leapt into her throat as his gaze settled on her, taking in her face, her clothes, her presence at his side. Her fingers tightened around her skirts, unwilling to move any other part of her body. Not able yet to believe her eyes, she dared not move nor make a sound for fear this image of Basil might vanish forever. Even Parker’s presence tonight might be explained away as part of a bizarre dream.

  Basil said nothing. He stared. She saw the puzzlement in his eyes. The way his brow crinkled slightly. After several moments, he carefully licked his lips.

  “I’m dreaming.” His voice was husky, rough from sleep. It sounded sweet to her ears. She smiled, surprised his thoughts ran the same path as her own.

  “No,” she said with a small shake of her head. She took a breath when she realized she’d been holding it while he silently observed her. She held her hands tight in her lap, yearning to reach out to touch him, but frightened by his response.