“But you don’t know where they are,” Hester said. “You told us that before.”
“Well, I’ve more of an idea than I let on. Gant told me some before he died. And Sephira don’t need to know I ain’t got them yet. Just as long as we agree on a price. The rest’ll take care of itself.”
Hester didn’t appear convinced, but she also didn’t seem concerned. She eyed her father a moment longer and turned her attention back to Molly, who was staring at Ethan, looking both frightened and contrite. Osborne retreated to the back room and soon returned with a second pistol. One he placed in his coat pocket. The other he handed to Hester.
“You girls watch him,” Osborne said. “And keep a good eye on his friend, too. If he wakes, bind him up like Kaille. You can shoot them if you have to. One or both.”
“We can’t keep them like this forever,” Hester said.
“Don’t need to. I’ll talk to Sephira, come back here and learn what I can from these two. And then we’ll … well, we’ll deal with them.” He looked at Diver once more and pursed his lips. “One of you girls ought to clean that blood … Or better yet.” He swung his gaze Ethan’s way, the cruel smile on his lips Ethan’s only warning of what was coming.
He heard the man whisper his spell, felt the pulse of power, and saw the glowing blue ghost of an ancient soldier, much like Reg, appear beside Osborne. Flames erupted from Ethan’s sleeve. They licked at his neck and face, the heat sudden and intense. Terror stole his breath. He couldn’t bat at the flames or rip off his shirt or drop to the floor and roll over the burning clothes to smother the blaze. He felt his skin blistering and he couldn’t even scream.
It took the two women several seconds-which might as well have been hours-to understand what was happening. Ethan could smell burning cloth, hair, flesh, and perhaps they finally did, too. Molly gave a small yelp and both women rushed forward to put out the fire.
They managed to extinguish the flames in mere moments, though it seemed to Ethan that they took far longer. His arm throbbed, and he could feel burns on his neck, as well.
No one in the room spoke. Osborne’s smile had vanished, and he was staring hard at his daughters.
“You were awfully quick to save him,” the man said. “Like you was worried ’bout him.”
Neither woman spoke at first.
“Well?” Osborne said.
“You would have preferred we let the house burn down?” Hester said at last. “It wasn’t him we were saving; it was us.”
“Well, that’s good. ’Cause when I come back, he’s a dead man. You understand that, don’t you?”
Molly blanched. Hester nodded.
“Why did you do it?” Molly asked, her eyes brimming with tears. She wiped at them, leaving a dark, sooty smear on her cheek. “You didn’t have to burn him.”
Osborne pointed back to Diver. “There was blood on his face. Kaille coulda used it to conjure. So, I did instead.”
The women looked down at Diver, as did Ethan. The blood on his friend’s face and hair was gone, washed away by Osborne’s conjuring.
“All right, I’m goin’. Watch him. Even without that blood, he’s dangerous.” Osborne turned to Ethan once more. “I shoulda asked you ’bout them pearls before Hes’s spell shut your mouth. But we can deal with that later.”
He left the shack, his boots scraping first on the porch and then the stairs. Still the women said nothing. They seemed to be listening, and Ethan did the same, until he could no longer hear the man tromping through the tall grass.
Ethan’s one hope was that Hester and Molly might help him once their father was gone. That hope evaporated as soon as Osborne was out of earshot.
“You’re a fool!” Hester said, rounding on him, her hands on her hips. “You wouldn’t listen to me. You couldn’t just leave when I told you to.”
Ethan flicked his gaze to Diver and back to her.
“Yes, I know. Your friend. He’s as stupid as you are. You can’t save him. So you’re both dead, and Molly and I will have two more souls to worry about.”
“I don’t want to do any more conjuring, Hes,” Molly said.
Hester took her hand. “I know, love. Neither do I. Why don’t you sew some more? That always helps.”
Molly cast a furtive glance Ethan’s way one last time and crossed to a chair at the far end of the room. One of her bright, patterned cushions lay on the floor, and several more scraps of matching material rested on the arm of the chair. Molly sat, took up the material, and soon was absorbed in her craft. She didn’t look happy, but the sewing did seem to calm her.
Hester, on the other hand, remained where she was, watching Ethan, the pistol still in her hand.
Ethan thought once more of the mullein in his pocket. He thought he could make a spell work without speaking it aloud. The problem was, two leaves weren’t enough for any casting that could overcome the combined might of the sisters Osborne. He couldn’t defeat their binding spell. He might be able to heal the worst of Diver’s injuries, but the women would use a conjuring to bind his friend, or worse. He could light a fire, or bring the roof of the shack down on them all, but he and Diver were both helpless to escape. He was more comfortable than he had been in the gaol, but the invisible shackles conjured by Hester and Molly were no less effective than Greenleaf’s chains.
The wood of the shack was too old and lifeless to provide much power for a spell. On the other hand, there was more than enough grass outside for several castings. But bound as he was, by both conjuring and rope, he would have to give much thought to which spell he chose to cast. Hester had the pistol, both women could conjure, and Ethan had Diver to worry about as well as himself.
He considered an illusion spell. Though the rain had stopped, leaving him with little water for an elemental spell, there was no reason he couldn’t use grass to send for help using an image of himself as he had at the prison. But as soon as he cast the spell, and sent such an image to Kannice or Pell or anyone else who might have been able to come to his aid, Hester would feel the spell and know that Ethan was conjuring.
Which left him back where he had been before he started thinking in circles: helpless, a captive.
He again glanced at Hester, but then looked away, and let his gaze settle on Molly instead. At first she took no notice of him, so intent was she on her sewing. After some time, though, she happened to look up and catch sight of him watching her. She dropped her gaze, but a few seconds later her eyes flicked his way a second time.
Looking down once more, she shifted in her seat, bent lower over her work, and stared hard at the thread and cloth, seeming to will herself not to glance his way anymore. And yet, seconds later she did.
A small whine escaped her and she looked over at her sister.
“Hester?” she said.
“Stop it, Kaille.”
Ethan didn’t look away.
Hester stepped forward, planting herself directly in front of him so that he could no longer see Molly. He raised his eyes and she slapped him hard on the cheek. Not only did it sting, but it also turned his head enough that he could no longer see Molly. Hester smiled with grim satisfaction and took a seat near her sister, in a chair that was also outside of Ethan’s line of sight.
After that, time slowed to a crawl. Hester remained where she was, Molly sewed, and Ethan sat doing nothing, waiting to be killed.
He must have dozed off, because the next sound that reached him was a low groan that cut through his slumber. He woke with a start, his neck and arms and legs feeling stiff. Someone-Hester-walked to his chair and roughly turned his head so that he could see Molly again, and, more important, so that he could see Diver.
His friend groaned a second time, and his eyes fluttered open. He started to sit up, but stopped when he saw Hester standing over him, the pistol trained on his heart.
“Stay right where you are,” she said.
Diver nodded, groaned again, and raised a hand to the gash on the side of his head. “Where are-?” he started to ask, looking around the shack. But when he spotted Ethan, he stopped, his mouth falling open, astonishment and despair in his gray eyes.