Witch Hunter (35 page)

Caleb, I can’t do that.’

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He frowns. ‘Why? What else are you going to do? You

can’t tell me you want to stay here’ – he waves his hand

dismissively – ‘with them?’

‘Yes. No. I don’t know.’ I realise then I don’t know what

I want to do. Or what I can do.

‘What has he told you?’ Caleb reaches for me, takes my

arm. ‘What did Nicholas Perevil tell you to make you think

you would be safe with him? Safer with him than with

me? What makes you think he won’t kill you once you’re

done doing…whatever it is he’s got you doing?’

I wrench myself from his grasp. ‘It’s not Nicholas. It’s

you.’ I feel a sting of tears behind my eyelids. ‘You didn’t

come back for me. At Fleet. You left me there to die. You

left me with no other choice but to do this.’

‘Says who? Nicholas?’ Caleb says. His blue eyes flash

with anger. ‘I was coming back for you. I told you to wait

for me. You promised me you’d wait.’ He takes my arm

again. ‘But when I came back, you were already gone.’

The tears are threatening to break now. I don’t know

who to believe. I don’t know what I want to believe.

‘I almost died in there. Did you know that? I caught

jail fever, and I almost died.’ I think of John then, how he

saved my life. Of Caleb, how I’m not sure he would have

done the same. ‘If you really were coming, why did it take

you so long?’

‘Because we knew Nicholas would show up for you,’

Caleb says. ‘Blackwell’s seer told him he would. The whole

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thing was a setup. Your arrest, everything. It was to get

you in jail to lure Nicholas in. Blackwell told me when I

went to plead for you.’

My stomach gives a sickening lurch at his betrayal.

‘And you went along with it?’ I whisper. ‘You must have

known how scared I was. I almost died, Caleb.’ I repeat it

because it needs to be repeated. ‘You almost let it happen.’

‘I did what Blackwell told me to do,’ he says. ‘I’m your

best friend. Do you really think I’d leave you to die?’

I don’t reply.

‘Are you saying you don’t believe me?’

I look at him. He’s the same Caleb I’ve always known.

Restless, ambitious, always yearning for more. It’s only

now I realise how deep that plague of ambition has spread

inside him. Like a disease, it rules him now: his thoughts,

his actions, the things he chooses to see, the things he

chooses to ignore. And, like a disease, one day it will be the

death of him.

It was very nearly the death of me.

‘I believe you,’ I say. ‘But I don’t believe Blackwell.’

‘What are you talking about?’ Caleb says. ‘We’d be

nowhere without him. We’d still be in the kitchen, or God

knows where else. He gave us a chance when no one else

would.’ His voice rises with conviction. ‘You owe him your

life. We both do.’

I shake my head. I don’t want to think about what I

owe Blackwell.

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‘Why did he make you Inquisitor?’ I say instead.

Caleb doesn’t answer, not right away. He turns away

from me for a moment, but not before I see something

flicker across his face, an expression I recognise but haven’t

seen in a long time: uncertainty.

‘He made me Inquisitor because I’m his best witch

hunter,’ he says finally. ‘Because he knows he can trust

me. Because…’

‘Because he knew if he made you Inquisitor, you’d be

able to find me.’

Caleb throws me a look, but we both know it’s true.

‘There are things about Blackwell – things you don’t

know,’ I say. ‘Things that, if you knew, might make you

change your mind about him – about what you’re doing

for him.’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘I’m talking about Blackwell’s being a wizard.’

Caleb goes still. Then suddenly, inexplicably, he starts

to laugh.

‘You don’t really believe that.’

‘I didn’t. Not at first,’ I say. ‘But it explains so much. It

explains everything. About our stigmas, about training,

about his plans.’

‘And what plans would those be?’ He’s still laughing.

‘He plans to take over,’ I say. ‘To overthrow Malcolm

and take the throne for himself. And he means to use magic

to do it.’

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Caleb abruptly stops laughing. ‘That’s treason,’ he says.

‘Nicholas has got you talking treason. What you just said

could land you on the pyre before sunrise.’

‘Blackwell already tried that, remember?’

Caleb scoffs. ‘I told you, that was just part of the plan.’

I shake my head, but he continues.

‘Come back with me.’ His voice is low, persuasive. ‘We

could be back at Upminster by morning, and it’ll be just as

it’s always been. Just you and me.’

‘No.’

‘What?’ His eyes go wide, stunned. It’s the only time he’s

asked me to follow him and I’ve refused.

‘I can’t go back,’ I repeat. ‘And I don’t want you to go

back, either. I’m afraid for you, Caleb. I’m afraid of what

Blackwell is doing and I’m afraid of what he’s doing to you.’

I swallow. ‘I’m afraid you’re in danger.’

‘I’m in no danger,’ Caleb says. ‘But you will be, unless

you come with me.’

The warning is clear, but I back away anyway. For a

moment I think this is my real test: a test of strength and

will and a command of fear, every bit as real as the test in

the tomb. A test not of Blackwell’s design but one he

contrived anyway, to make me choose between my best

friend and my freedom, my family and my life.

‘If you don’t go back with me, I can’t help you,’ he says,

his voice tight. ‘No matter what happens, I won’t be able

save you. Not this time. Do you understand?’

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I nod. I do understand.

He steps forward and grasps my forearm for a moment,

then quickly lets his hand drop, almost as though it’s not

his place to touch me anymore. And it’s this: this small

forfeiture of custody that makes me realise he’s releasing

me. Letting me go. That now, after spending half our lives

together, we’re going to spend the rest of them apart.

He backs away from me, nods his head in a little bow.

A goodbye.

‘I’ll tell the others I lost you.’ His voice is gruff, and in it

I can hear all the emotion he despises, all the emotion he’s

trying so hard to contain. ‘And it won’t be a lie.’

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There are people all around, pushing into me. But I’m so

stunned, I don’t move. I’m so stunned, I don’t do anything.

I just stand there. Staring unseeing at the crowd around me,

Caleb’s words echoing inside my head.

I feel a hand on my arm and jump.

‘There you are.’ It’s George. He’s standing in front of

me, John and Fifer beside him. They’re frowning. ‘What

happened? We turned around and you were gone.’

‘I – I’m sorry, I—’ I shake my head, still unable to think.

‘It’s bright out here,’ I finally manage. ‘I guess I just got

turned around.’

George tuts. ‘Well, come on then. We’ve got a ship to

board.’ He and Fifer set off down the dock. But John just

stands there, looking at me, brows raised. A question.

I could tell him that Caleb showed up, what he said to

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me. But what’s the point? It doesn’t change that I said

goodbye to my best friend. Most likely forever. Tears fill my

eyes again, and this time I don’t bother to push them away.

John’s eyes widen in sudden understanding.

‘He’s here, isn’t he?’ He spins around, searching the

docks. ‘Was he alone? Are they sending more?’

‘Yes. But they’re not – he didn’t.’ My voice breaks. ‘He

let me go.’

He turns back to me, surprise etched on his face. After a

moment he nods.

‘Let’s go.’ He touches his hand to the small of my back

and guides me through the crowd to the gangway, where

Fifer and George are waiting. They give us both a curious

look but say nothing.

The four of us start up the narrow wooden bridge.

A bearded, heavyset pirate stands at the top, sword in hand.

‘Stop right there,’ he commands. He aims the blade at

John’s chest.

‘I want to speak to the captain,’ John says.

The man laughs. ‘They all want to speak to the captain.

I tell them all no. What makes you any different?’

‘Because this is my ship,’ John replies. I shoot a surprised

look at George; he shrugs. ‘I assume that makes me different

enough?’

The man peers at John. Then his eyes widen and he lets

out a sudden bellow.

‘John Raleigh!’ He grabs John’s arm and hauls him onto

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the deck. ‘I should have known. You’re the very spit of your

father. What are you doing here? Don’t tell me you’ve

decided to trade a life of virtue for a life of debauchery?’

John smiles. ‘Not quite. My friends and I need a lift into

Upminster. Greenwich Tower?’

The man raises his eyebrows. ‘I hope you came prepared.’

John pulls a sack from his bag and gives it a shake. By

the heavy, dull clank I can tell it’s full of coins. ‘Of course.’

The man turns around and motions for John to follow.

‘Come on. You can plead your case yourself. Your friends

can wait here.’

John follows the man to the upper deck of the ship, into

the captain’s quarters. We wait by the railing, trying to

ignore the overly interested stares of the other sailors.

Finally, John emerges. He looks furious, and my heart

sinks. The captain must have refused us passage. I don’t see

how it’s possible, especially if this really is John’s ship. I step

forward, ready to find the captain and force him to let us

on, when I see why John is so angry.

He exits the cabin behind John, a boy dressed entirely in

black, shaggy blond hair, bright blue eyes, wicked grin.

Schuyler.

He’s come back for the sword, and Blackwell sent him.

It’s the only explanation for his being here. I spin around,

snatch the Azoth by the hilt from under Fifer’s cloak, and

advance on him, pointing the blade directly at his throat.

Behind me, Fifer gasps.

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Schuyler doesn’t even flinch. ‘Ah, my little mouse, my

bijoux. I knew we’d meet again someday. Though this is not

at all how I hoped it might go. I imagined less weaponry,

less hostility, less clothing—’

‘Shut up,’ I say. ‘Turn around and walk away. If you can

do it without opening your mouth again, I might let you

keep your head.’

‘Elizabeth, put it down,’ John says.

‘No!’ I say. ‘That’s what he wants. He wants the sword,

and he can’t have it. He’ll take it to Blackwell. We can’t let

him have it—’

‘He’s not here for that,’ John interrupts. ‘He’s here

because Fifer called him. Last night. Told him to meet us

here.’ He gives her a furious look. ‘He stole a crate of lemons

from Humbert’s and bribed his way on board with it.’

George chokes back a laugh. ‘Lemons?’

Schuyler shrugs. ‘Scurvy.’

I keep the sword on Schuyler’s throat, my eyes on his

face. ‘Fifer, why did you call him here?’ I think a moment.

‘And how? Revenants have to be close to hear someone’s

thoughts. If he was in Stepney Green last night, he couldn’t

possibly have heard you all the way from here.’

John makes a face and spins around, as if he can’t bear to

hear what’s coming next.

‘He – well, he didn’t hear my thoughts as much as he,

uh, felt them.’ Fifer finally manages. Her face turns as red as

her hair. ‘We have a connection.’

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‘A connection?’ At once, I remember the way they

looked at each other inside the knight’s tomb. The way

she almost kissed him, the way he looked as though he’d eat

her alive. My face goes as red as hers. ‘Oh.’

Schuyler shakes his head and tsks. ‘How you belittle

our love.’

‘Shut up or I’ll let her run you through with that sword,’

Fifer growls. Then she turns to me. ‘I called him here

because I think he can help you get the tablet.’

‘I already told you—’

‘I know what you told me,’ Fifer says. ‘But there’s

something we need to tell you.’

‘So tell me,’ I say.

George steps forward. ‘Might I suggest we do this

somewhere else? Perhaps somewhere where we don’t have

half the ship watching?’

I turn around and see at least two dozen sailors clustered

around us, clutching handfuls of coins.

‘Don’t stop,’ one of them says through a mouthful of

broken black teeth. ‘I’ve got ten crowns that says the