Be flexible and willing to change at all times.
Raven growled, throwing her hands into the air, and marched toward the woods. Not the right woman? The adrenaline still coursed through her veins, and her fight reflex made her want to punch a tree.
Grant trotted to her and grabbed her gently by the arm. “Are you all right?”
She ripped her arm from him and snapped. “I’m fine. Smashing.”
As she strode for the woods, she shoved the folded net back into the grappling bolt she’d used. When the net didn’t want return quickly to its bolt, she wanted to throw the whole thing on the ground and have a tantrum like a five-year-old. She closed her eyes and took a shuddering breath and whispered her father’s teaching to herself. “Rage never accomplishes anything. Mistakes are made more often fueled by anger. No one thinks clearly when angry.”
“That’s true,” Grant said from her side.
Raven started. She didn’t realize he had still been following her. The snow crunched under her boots as she quickened her step toward the woods. The wind picked up and chilled her. She reached the thicket and found the place she’d been kneeling. The red corded sword remained in the brush, tangled in a vine. Raven grasped the hilt and pulled it cleanly from the dried branches. After checking the blade in the gaslight, she snapped it to her back once more.
“Did you know Colton’s father gave him that sword when he left home?” Grant leaned against a tree, his eyes hidden in the shadow across the top half of his face.
Raven shrugged. “Are you attempting to make me feel guilty?”
He shook his head, the corners of his lips inching up into a smile. “No, I’m not. But does it make any difference to you when you know your victims more personally?”
Her jaw clamped, the rage bubbling up in her chest again. She spoke through her teeth, “Victims? Did I kill Colton?”
He shook his head and pushed off from the tree, following her as she started back toward the walkway and the others. “I didn’t mean victims, but I couldn’t conceive of a better word.”
She quickened her step and made him jog to keep up. The captured woman sat on the stone walkway, awake. Monroe and Colton knelt with her in conversation. Rupert stood over them, a stern look on his face, as always. The woman showed nary a sign of disorientation, and Monroe wrapped the shawl around her shoulders as he pulled her to her feet. Colton spotted them and started over to Grant. “Captain, the woman is willing to cooperate. I suggest we go inside and tend to the young girl’s needs as we question the witch.”
Grant nodded and shot a look at Raven. Colton smiled at her innocently. She shrugged and ripped her gaze from them. The guilt Grant had planted lingered like a dark cloud. She couldn’t meet Colton’s eyes anymore. He really wasn’t a bad guy. Grant was right about it being easier to demonize a person she didn’t know.
Monroe allowed the woman to lean on him as he guided her to the porch. Rupert and Raven hung back while Grant and Colton took the lead. Tall, white columns held a covered porch as wide as the full front of the house. The group spread out across the portico, while Grant grasped the brass door knocker.
Hardly a moment after the knock, the large red door swung in. The same grandmother from the café stood behind the butler at the door, her smile frozen as she assessed the number of people on her porch. Her eyebrows furrowed. “What’s going on here?”
The woman they’d captured righted herself suddenly and pushed Grant to one side. “Good evening, Mrs. Gardner. You called for the Wood Witch?”
A general look of surprise widened Grant and Colton’s eyes. Their faces mirrored Raven’s own. Monroe met her eyes and nodded slightly, assuring her that things were fine. She closed her jaw and nodded back. Grant shook his head and said, “I’m sorry, madam. I wasn’t completely honest with you earlier. My comrades and I are on a mission for the Duke’s Guard. Colton here is a medical doctor, but we also need to keep an eye on this woman.”
The red-haired woman who claimed the status of Wood Witch narrowed her eyes at Grant. She gave him a look that threatened him to not give away any more information about her. Grant stood taller, but acquiesced.
Raven didn’t like that this witch held herself in the same manner as the witch she’d met in the woods. Just like the last witch, this one took control of the situation. “Now, take me to the girl. I am late enough as it is.”
When the group reached the bottom of the stairs, the grandmother turned around. “Is it really necessary for all of you to follow? The room is small. Can’t just the doctor and the witch come up?”
Grant took a half step back and started to nod. Raven grabbed him by the arm and whispered harshly. “Don’t leave Colton alone with the witch.”
“I’m not convinced this woman is a witch. Besides, the child does need medical attention,” he whispered back.”
“Fine,” Raven continued to whisper in the same tone. She gave him a look that said she wouldn’t take no for an answer. “But I’m going with him.”
He nodded, and spoke aloud to the grandmother as she continued up the stairs. “And Raven, our nurse, should accompany them.”
The two older women turned around and assessed Raven. She felt suddenly self conscious. Honestly, she’d never had much training in being a lady and spent almost all her teenage years with adult men. She didn’t know how to respond to them, but she was also certain that they knew she was no nurse. Heat flushed her cheeks.
“Very well,” the grandmother said as she clasped the banister and took careful steps. “I’m sure we can accommodate her.”
Raven started up after them.
The grandmother waved the rest of the group toward the kitchen. And the butler announced to the remaining downstairs party, “Follow me, if you please. We have tea prepared in the kitchen.”
Although his attire looked completely out of place in the white marble foyer, Monroe stood tall and carried himself in as genteel a manner as the butler himself. Raven almost laughed at the oxymoron. Rupert and Grant walked together, their heads inclined toward each other as they conversed in hushed tones. The door to the kitchen swung in, and the group disappeared. It was unusual for guests in a house such as this to take tea in the kitchen rather than the dining hall. But considering their barging in, how could the household be ready for so many?
The witch took over the conversation on the way to the nursery. She fired off questions faster than the grandmother could answer. “How long has the girl been like this? What sort of cough does she have? A dry one or productive? What herbal remedies have been used thus far?”
After waiting for a breath of silence from the witch, the grandmother answered. “Drusilla has been ill for over a week. She has only had garlic and chicken soup. Her cough seems to be dry, as far as I can tell. She’s only just come up to Grandview from Ipswich today. Her parents own a factory in Ipswich where they make—”
“That’ll be all, thank you,” the witch announced, cutting into the grandmother’s prattle when they reached the door to the nursery.
“But, can’t I come in? Originally the appointment was for my own herbs, but I felt that my granddaughter needed—”
“No need for you to join us, madam.” The witch dug through her carpet bag and produced a small vial which she handed to the grandmother. “Here you are. I suggest you take it with some tea right away. Your strength has been waning and I can tell your rheumatoid is flaring up.”
The old woman looked suddenly tired. She took the vial in a shaky hand. “You’re right. It’s been so long since your last visit. I’ve struggled over the past few days without my medicine.”
Without a curt nod, the witch entered the child’s room and motioned for Colton and Raven to pass her and come in. Then she tilted her head to the grandmother. “With tea and right away. There is no need for you to suffer any longer than you already have. You may return after the medicine has begun its effect. We should be nearly done by then.”
The grandmother began to speak again, but with a smile, the witch shut the door in the woman’s face.
The witch leaned her back against the door and scrutinized both Raven and Colton. Her smile widened as she said. “A young noble playing guardsman and a woman reaper.”
Raven swallowed and was tempted to draw her sword at the sheepish look on the woman’s face.
“Uncommon. Unusual. About as singular an occurrence as someone sneaking up on me and throwing a grappling net of spider wire over me.”
Colton stepped in front of Raven, blocking her from the witch’s glare. Although she was annoyed with looking at his back, a relief settled on her to be shielded from the witch. The young doctor asked, “How do you claim to be the Wood Witch when we met the woman yesterday? You and she are not one and the same.”
Raven peered over Colton’s shoulder to watch the woman. Her jaw clenched and unclenched. She pursed her lips before speaking. “I am not the Wood Witch, and if you were paying attention, you’d have noticed I didn’t claim to be. The nobles in this town and others in the southern province call me that of their own accord. I simply chose not to correct them.”
“So who are you then? For you are not a common herbalist, either, are you?” Colton asked. His manner reflected the same command the witch had shown in the hallway with the grandmother.
Raven smiled at his ability to make the woman squirm.
“I am a witch and I live in the woods. Alchemy is a broad and varied subject, and Preston Woods has a multitude of residents. I have not lied.”
Colton nodded and scratched the blond stubble of his chin. “What is the difference between you and the Wood Witch whom we encountered?”
The woman’s face contorted and she spat to the side. “Perverter of alchemy. Consumer of children. That woman has become all the worst that the science has to offer. She is a fiend.”
Raven started. “What do you mean by consumer of children?”
A half smile played on the woman’s lips. “Have you not heard the stories? That woman takes a child born with certain talents and steals their abilities.”
Pushing Colton slightly to the side, Raven stood before the woman. “How so?”
The woman inclined her head toward the child lying in the bed across the room. The child slept fitfully, sweat beading her forehead. The ringlets of gold Raven admired earlier were fallen and ashen looking. The witch started toward the child’s bed. “I don’t like to speak of such perversions.” She looked Raven up and down and poked a pointed finger at her chest. "But I will because I believe you might be able to stop the fiend.”
Raven resisted the urge to slap the woman’s hand away.
The witch leaned closer and whispered, “She eats the child’s heart.”
Jack sat on a stool and held his tea, forgetting to sip it. His foot tapped a beat on the floor. Why didn’t he go up with them? He leapt to his feet when the grandmother entered the room. She held a small vial in front of her, a distracted and cunning smile spread upon her lips.
“Madam, how is the child?” He asked, offering to pull the chair from the table for her when she approached.
Her silver eyebrows knit together in confusion. The knuckles on the hand holding the vial grew white as she gripped it to her chest. “Oh. I’m not sure. The doctor and the Wood Witch are attending her presently.”
The butler rushed over with a tea cup ready for her, and the young kitchen maid brought toast with butter. With a swat of her hand, she dismissed them. They backed up into the shadows of the kitchen once more, the flames playing on their oddly pale faces. Jack blinked hard and stuttered, “They’re automatons.”
Monroe and Rupert set down their cups and stared. The grandmother shook her head as though to shake a thought from them, not to disagree. “Oh yes—the best companions for me. They rarely make an error, and they learn quickly.”
Jack furrowed his brows. “How is it that the most life-like automatons I’ve ever seen are here in the southern province?”
The grandmother poured a drop of the clear liquid from the vial over her tea cup. “They are prototypes. My son and daughter-in-law designed and build them in their Ipswich factory. I’m sure that zeppelin-living New Haven will be the first to know when the mechanical creatures are complete and approved by the Bureau.”
Jack watched the automatons move smoothly and deftly. “Do they speak like humans? That is…can you have a conversation with them?”
The grandmother took a dainty sip of her tea. “The butler does, but the kitchen maid has no voice box. She is an older model. Besides, what need of talking has a kitchen maid?” She half laughed and took another sip of her tea.
Jack couldn’t get past how much the butler looked like a real person. He did not appear to have any stiffness in his gait or mannerisms. Except for the fact that he stared blankly ahead, he seemed for all intents and purposes, human. Even on closer inspection, he appeared to have pores in the skin of his face, and slight wrinkles in the corners of his eyes. Jack decided to test it. “What is your name?”
The butler turned his head toward Jack and made eye contact, his eyelids blinked in regular intervals. “My name is Gerald, sir. How may I serve you?”
“Do you know who I am?”
“No, sir. You are a stranger to this house and the lady has not said your name.”
“How long have you been at this house, in the lady’s service?”
“It will be a year next month, sir.”
Jack turned toward the woman who slumped in her chair, looking a bit too relaxed. “Madam, this is a prototype? And you’ve had him nearly a year?”
She sat up straighter, but her eyes looked distant as she answered. “Yes, I suppose it has been that long. I’ve had the kitchen maid for nearly two.”
It hardly made sense that a factory could remain in existence with only prototypes available. Wouldn’t they try to get them out in the public as soon as possible? Why the secrecy? Even though it would be out of their way, he’d need to check this. “Madam, where did you say the factory was again?”