Elsie perked. “It would. That is, if you wanted it, Master Raven. An esteemed spellmaker, returned from the dead, saves the world!”
Master Raven clicked his tongue. “Preposterous.” And yet, despite Miss Prescott’s testament that the man was a recluse, Bacchus thought he detected a hum of interest in the American’s voice. Eleven years alone was a long time, particularly for a man who must have been accustomed to acclaim and recognition.
“How would we use him?” Mr. Ogden rubbed his chin, speaking as though Master Raven had agreed to play the lure. “How do we get through to Merton? Would she notice newspaper articles geared toward her?”
“She might not get the paper where she is,” Elsie said. “She hasn’t responded to anything we’ve published to get Master Raven’s attention. She doesn’t know he came to England.”
“Mr. Ogden,” Bacchus said, “do you happen to know the spell for visual illusions?”
Mr. Ogden’s gaze narrowed. “I do, but it’s only an intermediate spell. I . . . was never able to find or purchase anything more.”
“Illusions?” Master Raven repeated. His blurry eyes shifted to Elsie. “You told me he was with the Physical Atheneum!”
“He is,” Elsie shot back. “Legally.”
Master Raven laughed. “What am I going to say about it? Heaven forbid there be some competence in this group.”
Bacchus tried not to take the comment to heart. “How big of an illusion can you create?”
Mr. Ogden looked around. “Perhaps something the size of this room, if it were simple enough.”
“How simple are birds?”
The artist’s forehead crinkled, then smoothed. “You want me to make ravens?”
“If we put on enough of a show in the right place, people will talk,” Bacchus offered. “Master Merton may be in hiding, but if she’s still searching for Master Raven . . . she’ll find out, one way or another.”
“Where?”
Bacchus considered. “I can think of a few places where a sudden flock would draw attention.”
Miss Pratt said, “But won’t they know he’s the one doing it?”
“Not if he never leaves the carriage,” Elsie chimed in. “In fact, we had plans to purchase one, didn’t we?” She passed Bacchus a conniving smile that made her blue eyes brighter.
“Indeed.”
Master Raven grumbled something under his breath.
“Pardon?” Elsie asked.
“Fine.” The word was a bullet. “But don’t be stupid and get caught ahead of time. And don’t move. I’m coming to you.”
Elsie shot up from her seat. “You are?”
“Don’t get your skirts twisted. But if you’re going to announce me to the world, I intend to do my part. I have a few tricks up my sleeve.”
Spells of luck and blessings, most likely—they were the most popular spells requested of spiritual aspectors.
Mr. Ogden said, “But we don’t just want Merton’s attention. We want her. We need to draw her out to a safe place, somewhere we can apprehend her. Without witnesses.”
Quiet settled for several seconds before Miss Pratt said, “What about the Thornfield barn?”
“Pardon?” Mr. Ogden turned in his chair to better see her.
Miss Pratt flushed. “That is . . . it’s a large, run-down barn on the road to Aylesbury. I pass it on my way home. The owner died some ten years ago, and only half his farm is still being run. The barn isn’t on it.”
“We could start in Rochester, perhaps.” Elsie’s hand covered Bacchus’s, and she gripped his index finger, perhaps seeking courage. “Send up the ravens near the estate, and again in London. Until they make the papers.”
Bacchus added, “And then start over again, making a trail toward the barn.”
“Where I’ll be hanging on a meat hook,” Master Raven grumbled.
“I’ll stay with you,” Elsie offered. “Bacchus could drive the curricle.”
“Leave me with an amateur spellbreaker while the two useful people are far away?”
Elsie’s brows drew together. “I’m not an amateur.” Her expression relaxed. “But if you want spellmakers”—she glanced to Bacchus—“then Master Kelsey can guard you as well. I happen to know someone who is rather adept at driving a carriage.”
“Who?” Mr. Ogden asked.
“Irene, of course.” Elsie grinned. “And then we’ll have two spellbreakers ready to thwart Merton’s magic. And if Miss Pratt can alert the local police near the end, we’ll have their assistance as well. Ogden and I will make ourselves scarce before they arrive.”
Miss Pratt nodded eagerly. “I can do that.”
“Let’s think on it, and speak in person.” Mr. Ogden looked to Master Raven’s projection. “We’ll be waiting for you.”
CHAPTER 23
The Thornfield barn was visible from the main road but not close to it. Wild grass and weeds swept Bacchus’s knees as he walked to it; he couldn’t imagine how bothersome it would be in a skirt. Elsie kept a firm grip on his elbow as they headed toward the run-down, abandoned building, which looked to have been blue at one time but had faded to a shade of gray that matched the overcast sky. Master Raven walked a few paces ahead of them, his strides sure. He expected the terrain to yield to him, not the other way around.
He was shorter than Bacchus had expected, but then again, Bacchus had only before seen him hovering three feet above the floor.
Two days ago, Master Raven had arrived at the stonemasonry shop and bestowed blessings of luck like a curmudgeonly Santa Claus. Miss Prescott and Mr. Ogden had ridden out that night and the following day, spreading illusions of ravens in unlikely places where bystanders were sure to pay attention to the birds rather than the spellcaster. Sure enough, the sightings had been reported in this morning’s newspaper. Not wanting to lose their momentum, they intended to strike tonight. The sun was starting to set, and Mr. Ogden and Miss Prescott were on their way here, casting ravens as they went, hoping to draw Merton from her hiding place. If it didn’t work, they would repeat the maneuver in a few days. If it never worked . . . Bacchus wasn’t sure what they would do then, or how long they’d be able to convince Master Raven to stay with them.
Miss Pratt was poised and ready to alert the local police force the moment Master Raven told her to via astral projection. Mr. Camden accompanied her.
They were silent entering the barn. One of the loft doors was crooked, hanging on its topmost hinge. The walls leaned slightly to the north. Not enough for Bacchus to be concerned about the soundness of the structure, but a strengthening spell certainly wouldn’t hurt it. The paddock doors were all locked, but the alley doors on either side of the building opened with the pull of a simple barrel slide. Bacchus found an old lamp hanging from a timber jolt and lit it with a spell. Something scurried away when he did. He glanced at Elsie, but if she heard the sound of rodent feet, it didn’t bother her.
She lifted her skirts as she walked over the filthy flooring, which covered about two-thirds of the ground. Some of the boards had rotted through or bent as though weighed down by something heavy. The hay store was empty, and the place smelled of winter and mold. There were two stall walls still standing, about four feet high, strewn with spiderwebs.
“Cozy.” Master Raven’s arms were folded tight across his chest. He spun in a slow circle, taking in the rafters and the narrow windows.
Looking to Elsie, Bacchus said, “They should be here soon. I’m going to walk the perimeter to make sure we don’t have any witnesses or surprises.” He’d seen nothing coming in, but the last thing he wanted was to miss something that might result in an easy escape for Merton or jail time for him and the others.
Elsie pressed her lips together and tugged on her sleeve, but she nodded. “I’ll look around in here.”
Master Raven scoffed, but said nothing.