Page 55 of No One's Bride
Quill at the ready, the professor nodded for Sebastian to continue.
“Attract to me my deepest desire. From this minute, this hour, let my heart speak only thy name. With our bodies entwined, set our souls aflame.”
Miss MacTavish swallowed deeply. “Does the spell sound familiar, sir?”
“I have heard it before and believe it’s early medieval in origin.”
“Then ye know of a way to break it?” she said with much enthusiasm.
The professor pushed out of the chair and hobbled to a mahogany cupboard containing many books. He perused the volumes before taking one and returning to the desk.
“You must perform a releasing ritual to stop the manifestations. Write down your intention to break the spell and list each other’s names. Beneath the moonlight, you must burn the paper and recite…” He paused while he found the relevant page in his necromancer’s journal.
Sebastian locked gazes with Miss MacTavish.
Did he want to break the spell?
Did he want to spend his days occupying an empty shell?
If he didn’t believe in sorcery, would it matter if he performed the ritual? And yet there was a hesitance within him he couldn’t explain.
“Ah, here it is.” Mangold pointed to the relevant page. “This spell no longer serves me. With the last wisp of smoke, set my soul free.”
The lady blinked. “That’s all we need to say?”
“Yes, as long as you repeat the words with heartfelt intention, the power that binds you should be broken. Best you do it at night beneath the waning crescent. Sometime in the next five days should suffice.”
“The sooner, the better,” she said, though Sebastian wasn’t sure if her eagerness was part of the act.
An awkward silence descended.
Mangold wanted rid of them because he closed his books, pulled his watch from his waistcoat pocket and checked the time.
It was then Sebastian noticed an inking on the inside of the professor’s wrist. For a second, his heart stopped beating. Perhaps Michael had sent a sign, a prompt to begin a conversation.
“One often sees such inkings amongst sailors.” He pointed to the strange symbol on the professor’s wrist. “They rub gunpowder or ink into the wound for artistic effect.”
The professor jerked in response, his gaze darting to the door as if willing them to leave. “When dealing with the supernatural, one must shield oneself from harm.”
“It’s a protection symbol, then?”
“Y-yes. A colleague marked me some years ago.”
“I only ask because I found similar markings amongst my brother’s belongings.” An unexplained force urged him to confess. “He served aboardThe Perseusand died of a tropical fever. There was an old grimoire amongst his possessions.”
“A grimoire?” The man’s chin quivered.
Should he not be used to conversations about sorcery and magic?
Was Mangold a fraud?
A trickster who used the paranormal to take money from clients?
“Amongst the printed symbols were pencil drawings of runes, done by hand after publication. They were littered throughout the book.”
While Miss MacTavish’s eyes were awash with pity, Mangold paled.
“Seafaring men have an innate fear of omens.” The professor spoke as if sailors were as evil as Satan’s minions. “The cramped conditions play havoc with the mind.”
