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The sense of being watched grew stronger. “We should disrupt whatever it is he’s trying to do.”
“It would help if we knew what that was.” Rafe’s frown deepened. “He must have learned about the Ferox Cor somehow.”
“Perhaps. I only knew about it because Madam Munro sent us here to find it. Margaret, are you creating the fog?”
“No, it’s—”
“Pardon me,” Rafe interrupted her. “You were sent here to find the Ferox Cor?”
Under different circumstances, his indignation would have made me laugh. “Does it matter now? If you still mistrust my motives, this is going to be a very long night.”
He stood, looming over me in the small space. Then, after a long moment through which I held my breath, he relaxed. “I suppose if you were going to steal the Cor, you’d have already left with the amulet in your pocket.”
Only a few minutes ago, I’d been ready to tell him, but now I said nothing, resting my hand on the box’s solid weight. A solid weight that had me feeling like a traitor.
Whoever holds the amulet controls the Ferox Cor.
I could tell it to go after Rutger, to chase him and his friends away. Or could I? I had so little power of my own. I could see the Cor brushing me aside, the way a tiger would tumble an annoying kitten. Even so, it was an idea. Something I could try as a last resort.
Della and Margaret murmured together. “What is it?” I asked.
“The light,” Margaret said. “No one has wound it, and by now it’ll have gone out.”
I didn’t like the idea of splitting up, but it might be necessary. “You and I can go wind it and Rafe can stay with his mother.”
“No.” Rafe knocked his cane on the floor. “I’ll go.”
Margaret stood up, pausing to drape my overcoat more securely around Della’s shoulders. “You mustn’t always play the hero, Rafe Gallagher.” She took hold of my arm. “You keep your mother safe. Vincent and I can manage this task.”
“I don’t like it.” Rafe positioned himself in front of the door, as if daring us to get past him.
Margaret and I shared a glance. Clearly she wanted me to fix this, so I plastered on a charming smile. “It only makes sense. None of us should go off on our own right now, and your mother is injured. You’re the best one to protect her.”
His frown only deepened.
“You don’t have to do it all. Let us help you.”
Something of my desperation must have struck him because he eased away from the door. I didn’t care so much about winding the light, but I did care about Rafe.
He didn’t need to do it all.
The door to the tower was close to where Rutger and his cronies had been setting up for the ritual. Margaret and I slipped around the corner, closest to the beach, and stopped there.
The fog was so thick I couldn’t judge how many men were out there. They’d started to light their candles, however, small spots of muddy orange in the darkness. Rutger’s voice rumbled instructions, harsh enough to make me wonder how I’d ever thought him to be a friend.
Someone else piped up, a weak plea. Stevenson. I met Margaret’s gaze, though I couldn’t tell if she was relieved she hadn’t killed him, or disappointed. She was made from some pretty stern stuff.
Fingering the coin in my pocket, I pondered our choices. “I could create some kind of shield, something that would make us harder to see.”
Margaret pursed her lips.
“Or you can conjure up a sudden storm to distract them?”
She grinned. “One minute.”
She closed her eyes and after a breath, she stared to sketch a sigil in the air. The fog thickened, becoming almost solid. Voices rose in confusion, Rutgers the loudest of all.
“Have you lost control of the spell?”
