“They know our location,” Gabriel adds. “It’s only a matter of time until they come again.”
Heat rises in my cheeks. “I swore an oath to use my power for the good of the land and to strike down evil at any cost.”
Emily smiles. Gabriel’s lips are set in determination.
“And that’s what I’m going to do,” I continue. “We are the League of Ravens. And now is our time.”
Balthazar comes out of his stupor and looks at the three of us. His face is long. “I am afraid I have let you all down,” he says contritely. “I once told you it was time for a new generation to stop the evil that is stirring in the shadows. That day has now come.”
“What are you implying?” I ask, curious.
“I have been too cautious,” he answers. “Waiting for the clues to fall into place. All the while, Mephisto has been growing stronger.”
He seems lost in his thoughts again, his eyes distant. He turns to me. “Go now, Jessamine. Go now and find Darby and avenge your parents.”
“You’re not coming with us?” Emily asks.
Balthazar lays a hand on her small shoulder. “As Jess said, you are the League of Ravens. Your time to strike is now.”
“But what will you do?” I ask. “Surely you’re not staying here?”
The distracted look returns, along with a wrinkling of the brow and a tightening of his lips. “I have something that I must do—?greater than this moment—?and I cannot let it go unattended.”
Unbelievable.
I open my mouth and then close it. I feel like grasping him by the shoulders and shaking him. What could be more important than finding Darby and stopping Mephisto?
“I promise to see you again,” he says. “And I know you will prevail. All of you.”
I do not understand, and I can think of nothing to say. Gabriel and Emily look to me as if I am now their leader. “The spirit board,” I suggest. “Maybe there is a clue that can lead us to Mephisto’s lair.”
I glance about the room.
Emily points behind me. “You mean that?” she asks.
I turn around to see the remains of the spirit board, broken into jagged pieces and lying amidst shards of glass.
Balthazar reaches into his waistcoat pocket, where a gentleman would usually keep a watch, and pulls something out by a length of chain. It is a rock of some sort, with no distinctive color, but I see light reflected in its form.
“This is a faerie stone,” he says, and comes to stand in front of me. He loops the chain around my neck. “It is used to guide travelers in unknown realms.”
I raise my hand to caress it. It is smooth to the touch.
“I was going to give it to you soon,” he says, “when the time was right—?but there couldn’t be a better occasion than now.”
My fingers run along the length of chain.
“Press it firmly,” he tells me, “and think on the place or object you want to reach.”
I close my eyes and squeeze the stone. For several seconds there is nothing, but slowly, like a fire being kindled, warmth trickles into my palm. I open my eyes. The stone is flickering with color—?sea blue and sunshine yellow, fiery red and deep green. Mephisto, I think. Where are they? How do I find them?
Cold seeps into my hand. The stone goes black, pulsing with a tiny red light. Mephisto, I think again. Where do they hide?
A tunnel is before me, a long, winding tube of black. White mist clouds my vision. The grinding, screeching sound rings in my ears again.
I open my eyes. It is the same thing as before, but what does it mean? “Come,” I say to Emily and Gabriel, adjusting my satchel. “It’s time to find Darby.”
Balthazar lays a hand on my cheek. He looks at me for a long moment. “When you find them, Jessamine, show no mercy.”
And I promise myself—?I will not.
Night has fallen.
The smell of death drifts through the roads and alleys like a poisonous fog.
We start on the High Street, looking for clues. We dart down twisting alleys, explore ruined houses, and even venture into the small forest beyond the edge of the city. The whole time, I see things that make me shudder: sick, weeping children; trash heaps buzzing with flies; and everywhere the diseased, clinging to whatever life they have left.
Jangling bells make me pause. Up ahead, I see the bird man again, trundling down the foggy road with his cart of the dead. He stops at the door of a crumbling house and collects a body shrouded in bedsheets.
“It’s him again.” Emily says. “The plague doctor.”
I looked into his mind before. Maybe I can find a clue—?
The sound of breaking glass shatters my thoughts.
I whip my head around. A flaming bottle has been tossed through a shop window, and now the flames rise inside. A mob is forming behind us—?men with sticks and makeshift clubs, and one who holds a cutlass, a long, skinny sword that gleams in the night.
“Bloody ’ell,” Emily mutters.
Several figures huddle around a shabbily dressed man standing on a wooden crate, bellowing at the top of his lungs. I recoil in horror. It is the same vagabond who spit at us earlier.
“And who’s behind this ’ere sickness?” he shouts.
“The Jews!” a voice cries out.