The Jezebel (Taskill Witches 3)

The ache in Maisie’s chest grew. Tears spilled from her eyes.

“You must go now. Please. I will pass on peacefully, knowing you are safe.”

Maisie couldn’t force herself to rise to her feet.

“Please, child. Go quickly.”

“I cannot.”

“You know you must. Hush now, be strong. Go to your kin, find them. They will keep you safe.”

My kin. Are they even alive? Beth had said the right thing, for Maisie had to know. She forced herself to her feet, then bent to kiss her adoptive mother on the forehead. “I love you, Mama Beth.”

“And I love you. Make haste, my girl. And forgive me. I loved you very much, and I am guilty, too, for I didn’t want to lose you, either.”

It was hard to walk away from Beth’s bedside, but with her words echoing in her mind, Maisie managed those difficult first steps.

I did not want to lose you, either. Cyrus didn’t want to lose her. He would stop at nothing to get what he wanted. That was his way. He had groomed her, and now it appeared he might even have assisted his wife’s untimely passage to the grave in order to have her.

Instead of going to the opera, she had to leave that very day. She couldn’t meet Cyrus and be seen on his arm like a jewel he had secretly been polishing until he could bring it out and show it off to London, while his wife died alone in her bed.

Maisie dressed in her plainest gown and covered it with a somber cloak. She’d already decided it would be too risky to hire a carriage to take her north, for it would be a long, slow journey and Cyrus would be fast on her trail. She might never reach Scotland and her kin if she went that way. Instead, she determined that the best way, the quickest way, was to go by sea.

That afternoon she set off on foot and then hired a carriage to take her to the docks. There she sought word of vessels that were bound for Scotland.

She heard mention of the Libertas at the dockyards. She made note of the captain’s name. The vessel was due to sail on the late tide, but she could find no one who would tell her if it would take a passenger. She couldn’t afford to wait and secure passage, and she couldn’t return to Cyrus. He would not be happy, for he had invested much in her, years of his time, including his future. But she couldn’t be part of it.

Forced to act quickly, she returned to the house to avert suspicion. The closer to the turn of the tide she waited, the safer it would be.

After her maid dressed her for the opera,

Maisie gathered together a few cherished possessions, what little jewels and coin she had, thanks to Beth, and the sacred objects that would keep her magic safe and rich. Then she pulled on her cloak and made her way out of the house, leaving by the servants’ entrance before the coach could be called to take her to Cyrus.

If the Libertas had already sailed, or the captain refused to take her, she would have to go back, attend the opera and find another way to leave, another day.

Maisie could scarcely bear to consider that option, and fixed her hopes and her will on escape. Not since the day of her mother’s death—the day she’d been taken from Scotland—had Maisie Taskill known such intense fear and dread.

For the first time she would be without her protector, alone with her forbidden craft and vulnerable to discovery. The unknown path ahead loomed dark and foreboding, with danger lurking at every hidden turn. And yet it was eminently preferable to staying at Cyrus Lafayette’s side.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

“It’s true enough, that Jezebel did something ungodly down there.” Brady shook his head and looked at Roderick with a warning in his eyes.

The fact that Brady had adopted Clyde’s name for Maisie annoyed Roderick almost as much as the fact that they were accusing her of witchcraft. “Caring for an injured man is ungodly?”

“She did more than care for him. She sang awhile, but there were words in there that none of the men understood. And Adam...why, he scarcely breathed at all, let alone cried out when she straightened his hand.”

The captain sighed. The men were troubled, and a large group of them had gathered on deck to confront him, for the word had passed quickly amongst them about what Maisie had done. As if they hadn’t troubles enough. The lad could have been killed, the rigging had been damaged, and Roderick had only just set the sails to rights. Now this nonsense.

While he was busy overseeing repairs he’d caught sight of Maisie emerging from the hatch that led to the men’s quarters. He’d assumed—correctly, it seemed—that she’d gone to Adam’s aid. Yet now the men were doubting what she’d done, and her intentions. As he thought back on it he recalled that she’d scurried off to his cabin immediately after the accident, without seeking him out, which had struck him as odd.

Not odd enough to cause this mood amongst the men.

“Adam gave himself a fright, and he probably fell dumb when he thought about what he’d done and what might have happened,” Roderick clarified. “He was too eager, and realized what a fool he made of himself. You should be grateful he isn’t as badly hurt as we thought.”

Roderick didn’t like the way they were talking about Maisie, and he’d heard one of them whisper something about getting rid of her. It troubled him greatly, because when something stirred them up this much it was difficult to keep them in check.

“Witchcraft is what it is.” Brady shook his head. “It’s not right, I tell you. Gilhooly said he saw her wrap Adam’s hand in some strange dark thing, and there were whispered chants, words that had no known meaning to good God-fearing folk. What does that tell you?”