That afternoon, Hannah sat on the window seat in her mother’s turret as the powerful mage prepared the monthly renewal spell. With a piece of yellow chalk, Seraphina drew a coffin shape on the wooden floor. Then she added another boundary around the first line. The three-inch space between the two lines was filled with runes and symbols that Hannah didn’t understand, but a chill washed over her skin and raised goose bumps as each image was drawn.
One satisfied with her work, Seraphina threw the chalk onto the bench and waved to Hannah. “I am ready for you now, my dear.”
Hannah walked to the chalk outline and swallowed the lump in her throat. Though they had performed the same ritual every month for over two years now, it never became any easier to place herself in the drawn coffin. She gathered her skirts in one hand to stop them from brushing the patterns as she stepped in and lay down. With her hands crossed over her chest, Hannah closed her eyes and waited.
Her mother shuffled closer to the edge of the drawing and placed one gloved hand on Hannah’s head, the other over her heart. Then Seraphina began to chant in a low tone. An invisible hand squeezed Hannah’s heart, and just as she thought she could endure it no longer and might cry out, her mother fell silent and the interior grip loosened.
“All done, Hannah.” Seraphina patted her daughter’s head.
She opened her eyes, sat up, and curled her feet under her. “And?”
After every instance of performing the spell, her mother issued the same reassurance—the curse lay dormant in Hannah’s body, she remained in a frozen point in time, and they had another month to work on a cure.
Today, her mother remained silent.
In a rare move, Seraphina raised her veil and revealed her ruined face. The greyish skin and blue blotches spoiled her once pale complexion, but nothing dimmed the love in her blue eyes. “I do not wish to alarm you, Hannah. My spell holds and the curse will not have you this month. But it has…moved.”
“Moved?” Whatever did that mean? Had it pooled in her toes?
“That is the easiest way to explain the change I sense within you. It is like an army laying siege to a castle encircles their target. I fear that after all this time, the dark magic is testing my spell, perhaps seeking a way to break through. But it will not succeed, Hannah. Death will not have you.” Seraphina took her daughter’s hands and the two women sat side by side on the floor.
Hannah had delayed death for two years. Her heart should have stilled a few weeks after she had first dabbed the poisoned powder on her face, and she should have joined the gentle ranks of the Afflicted. The many months that had passed since had given her ample opportunity to face her fear of death. When viewed objectively, her situation was not so terrible. After she died, at least she would arise in her bedroom, surrounded by her family. They would never know how many of those who had used the tainted powder had roused to find themselves buried deep in the ground with no hope of escape from their graves. When her parents had tried to exhume those they suspected of being Afflicted, the families had denied them permission.
“We cannot hold it back forever, Mother. But do not worry, for I am not afraid. Not anymore.” Wycliff would protect her and her mother both. Legislation might declare them to be dead, and as such unable to hold property or fulfil other legal obligations, but they would still continue with their lives. “Besides, when that day arrives, you and Father will finally have one of the Afflicted willing to sit in a bathtub of potion while you call down a lightning strike.”
Seraphina burst out in laughter and wrapped her arms around Hannah. “I do so admire your spirit. When I return from the Fae realm, we will discuss what we do next. The time has come for us to take a bold step to defeat our invisible enemy.”
“You will journey to the underworld,” Hannah murmured.
It was the logical progression of their search for a cure. Seraphina would journey to the next life and seek out the creator of the dark magic spell, with the assistance of a hellhound to shake the truth from the mage responsible.
“Yes, but don’t tell your father just yet. You know how he will worry.” Seraphina pulled the veil back over her face and shuffled to her bathchair. She muttered a spell and her body levitated the short distance necessary for her to resettle in the chair.
Sir Hugh would not be the only one to worry. Concerns gnawed at Hannah, too. To walk beside the hellhound, Seraphina would need to sever the strand that bound her soul to her physical form. They had no idea what effect that would have. What if the strand connecting soul to dead form was the very thing that kept her mother animated? Hannah’s concerns extended beyond her mother to include Wycliff, too. If only there was a way for her to make the journey with her husband. But only the dead could cross into the shadow realm.
“What if you don’t return?”
“There is no point worrying about things that have not yet happened. Do you really think Wycliff would leave his mother-in-law in Hell?” Seraphina tilted her head and the muslin swayed.
Hannah bit her lip to keep from laughing. “I suspect there is many a husband who would happily deposit his mother-in-law in Hell, but I don’t believe Wycliff is one.”
Her mother’s shoulders shook in silent laughter. “You may be right. But as I said, don’t go gathering worries before their time. Now, off you go. You have much to organise and I need to finalise the spell to bind Barnes to Frank.”
The next few days passed in a whirl of activity. Trunks were packed and Mary agonised far longer over what belongings to take than Hannah did. The maid bubbled with both excitement and dread about a trip to the seaside. It transpired that she shared Hannah’s reservations about the ocean. Though neither of them could swim, at least Hannah had happy memories of playing in the sand as a child. Mary had never seen the ocean.
“I’m not going into the sea, milady, but I would like to wriggle my toes in the sand,” Mary said as she closed the lid of the trunk.
“I’d quite like to sit on the sand myself.” Another thought occurred to Hannah. Wycliff had mentioned teaching her to swim. What would that be like—to have his arms hold her as the waves tugged at her body? Would he hold her tight or would she slip from his grasp?
“We’re all done, milady. I’ll have Frank carry the trunks down.” Mary placed her hands on her hips and surveyed her work.
A regular tapping made Hannah look around. It sounded like a breeze knocking a branch against glass. Except no trees reached Hannah’s first floor windows. “Mary, where is Barnes?”
The hand had been assisting them by selecting pieces of jewellery, which they rolled up in a blue velvet case.
“Oops.” The maid lifted the lid of the trunk and then jumped back.
Barnes climbed over the side and dropped to the floor as though he had been deprived of oxygen. Sheba rushed over and administered a reviving lick.
“That could have been an uncomfortable trip, Barnes,” Hannah murmured as she closed the trunk once more and ushered the group from the room.
That night, the family had a quiet dinner before they were to part ways in the morning. Hugh would transport Seraphina to the doorway to the Fae realm, where she would be met by Helga, a woman in Lady Loburn’s employ. The robust and sensible servant was often used to assist the dead mage on her trips. Helga was painfully short-sighted without her spectacles, and would remain unaffected by the beauty of the Fae. The Miles home would remain silent except for Cook, who looked forward to her own sort of holiday. The old woman would sit by the fire, she said, and knit.
Seraphina had crafted a mage silver ring for Wycliff, which she presented at the end of the meal. “I made it in the shape of a bone, like Hugh’s ring. I thought that an appropriate shape for both a physician and a hellhound.”
Wycliff slipped the ring onto the smallest finger on his right hand, and the magical metal adjusted to the perfect size. “Thank you.”
The yard bustled the next morning with two carriages hitched up and all the horses pawing the ground, impatient to move off. Frank and Old Jim loaded the trunks onto the correct vehicles. Sir Hugh had hired a large travelling coach and four horses to take Hannah and Wycliff to Dorset, and the vehicle would provide ample space for them and their luggage.
Frank fussed over the equines, checking the harnesses and scratching withers as final arrangements were made. Then the trunks were secured to the rear by ropes. Cook pushed a basket into Hannah’s hands containing a meal to tide them over until their stop that evening.
Seraphina sat in her bathchair to one side, the chickens surrounding her like ladies-in-waiting. “Barnes,” she called out, “it is time.”
The hand scampered over, ducked around a chicken, and climbed up the side of the bathchair. Seraphina picked up Barnes in her gloved hands and held him before her face.
Hannah had a flash of an illustration in a picture book that accompanied the fairy tale of the Princess and the Frog. If her mother kissed Barnes, would he be transformed into a frog leg?
The mage whispered and the words became a blue-tinged gust that swirled around the hand until he stood in the middle of a head-sized vortex. Then a piece broke off and raced toward Frank. The blue wind grew in size as it spun around the giant’s middle. When the swirling covered all of Frank’s torso for a split second, the wind became solid, like water that flash froze, with an accompanying loud crack. Then blue chunks fell away but never touched the ground, having dispersed into the air.
“Done,” Seraphina said.
She placed Barnes on the ground and the hand turned around and around, as though looking to see if he had grown a tail.
The mage pointed a finger at the disembodied hand. “You are tethered to Frank, Barnes, and I have given you a two-hundred-foot range. I think that will cover most scenarios. Should you try to venture farther than that, you will encounter a solid wall that will not let you take another step in the wrong direction. If Frank moves beyond the allowed distance, you will be dragged to within the necessary distance. Try not to be on the other side of something solid if that happens.”
Frank stared at his middle, a deep frown on his face.
Mary clung to his arm. “It won’t hurt my Frank, will it?”
Hannah swallowed a laugh. Mary worried about Frank, who was the anchor, but it was poor Barnes who would suffer if the tether tried to pull him through a tree or a wall. Or imagine if a gust of wind caught the hand—he might become a kite gliding high above Frank as he strode across the countryside.
Seraphina waved away the maid’s concerns. “Of course not, Mary. Frank won’t feel a thing. But do remember Barnes is connected to you before you take off in any kind of conveyance, and ensure he is nearby. Otherwise the poor fellow will be bounced along in the road behind you.”
A low chuffing noise, somewhat like the new and experimental steam engines, came from the constructed man. He rarely laughed and the odd sound suited him, as though warmth and humour rolled off him like puffs of steam coming from a kettle.
Wycliff and Hugh checked everything over again and the time had come to say goodbye.
“Before you depart, I have one more enchantment to weave. Hannah, Wycliff, would you take my hands, please?” Seraphina held out her gloved hands.
Hannah glanced to her husband, then took her mother’s hand. Wycliff approached more cautiously, but he took hold of Seraphina’s other hand.
“Good. Now if you two would join hands,” Seraphina instructed.
They did as asked, the three of them now hand in hand and forming a loose circle. Seraphina’s head dropped forward and she murmured in a strange tongue. Whispers raced over Hannah’s skin and tickled, as her mother’s magic washed over her body. On the last syllable from her mother’s throat, the gold ring on Hannah’s left hand wriggled of its own accord. Wycliff stared at his own hand and she assumed the same thing was happening on his finger.
Seraphina let them go. “It is done. I have added an enchantment to your wedding bands to let you signal one another if necessary. It won’t be as elegant as contacting me, nor will it enable direct communication, but should the need arise, you have only to rub the gold ring and think of the other person. That will make their ring wriggle as you just experienced. I am still pondering how to enable you to talk to one another across distances—and whether a miniature you carried might be ensorcelled to work as a conduit.”
Hannah stared at her hands. One gold ring, one silver, and each touched by a different type of magic. She leaned down and kissed her mother’s cheek. “Thank you. I will see you in a month’s time, Mother.”
“Have a glorious adventure, Hannah, and we can swap stories when I see you next.” Seraphina reached up and stroked her daughter’s cheek before letting her go.
Next, Hannah hugged her father, and she even managed a quick cuddle with Timmy, which made the lad blush as he scampered away to the family’s carriage.
Mary stood next to the large travelling carriage and fidgeted with her hands.
“Whatever is it, Mary?” Hannah asked as she looked around the yard one last time.
The maid leaned close and whispered, “Do I have to ride inside? His lordship is ever so fearsome. I’d rather sit up with Frank, if it’s all the same to you, milady.”
Mary remained oblivious to Frank’s gruesome, stitched-together appearance and saw only the gentle soul that dwelt within. Yet Wycliff’s stern good looks struck fear in her heart. Hannah decided it was best not to tell her about the souls attached to Frank. Men were forever bound to his form by the stitches Lord Dunkeith had used to attach the limbs taken from others…but Mary did not need to know that.
Hannah nodded. “Of course you may, Mary. But if bad weather threatens, I will insist you sit inside. Wycliff is bringing his mare, so he won’t always be in the carriage. He will ride at times.”
“Oh.” Mary’s face brightened. “I’ll sit with you then, milady, when his lordship is on his horse.”
Wycliff tied his mare to the ring at the back of the carriage and scratched the horse’s withers. The saddle and bridle were stored in a rear trunk, for when he wished to ride.
“Where will you sit, Barnes?” Wycliff picked up the hand.
Barnes gestured up and Wycliff placed him on the high driver’s seat.
“He wouldn’t have much of a view from inside, unless he swung from the curtains,” Hannah murmured as Wycliff helped her up into the carriage. Then he handed up the spaniel, who sat on the seat and peered out the window.
Hannah waved to her parents as they set off. An odd disturbance churned in her stomach, as though things would never be the same again. Silly, she chided herself. This was her second trip away in as many months and it was only the disruption to her normally quiet routine that made her unsettled.
They skirted the fringes of London and headed southwest. As twilight fell, they broke their journey at a quaint tavern in Winchester. Light and laughter rolled from within. Frank eyed the activity and growled, preferring to stay in the stables with the horses. Not everybody was like the Miles family. Strangers often stared and he preferred to stay in the shadows, lest he distress others with his appearance. Mary split her time between fussing over Hannah inside and worrying about Frank outside.
Wycliff procured two rooms next to each other, and Hannah discovered she was to share one with Mary.
Who snored.