Chapter 6

November 5, 1846, Blaugdone Island, Rhode Island

Owein’s tail thumped against the matted, curling grass as he watched Merritt and Hulda board their separate boats. He knew dogs wagged their tails when they were excited—he did it, too, out of an otherly sort of instinct—but this wagging was about nerves and the need for movement. He felt so cold and unsure. The wagging helped keep the darkness at bay, too. He didn’t feel it or see it as much when he gave in to his dog side.

The dog hadn’t been left alone in a house for decades on end.

The decision to leave for Boston had been made so quickly Owein had barely followed it. He’d heard harsh whispers, which had changed into sharp voices. At first, he’d thought Hulda and Merritt were fighting, but they weren’t. Merritt was mad because of what she’d told him. Baptiste had ... what was it Merritt called it? Brooded. He’d brooded darkly by the window, so darkly Owein could smell it, just like he could smell the traces of manure on Hulda’s shoes and soap on Merritt’s shirt cuffs. And suddenly Merritt had a bag on his shoulder and Hulda was leaving as quickly as she’d come, and the sun wasn’t even at its peak yet, andBeth was gone.

That’s what the others were doing—going to get Beth. MissTaylor. But what if she didn’t come back? Owein loved Beth. He rememberedlittle pieces of his mother—not much, but pieces—and a lot of those pieces were in Beth. And she always tucked him in at night and snuck him morsels at mealtime and scratched behind his ears, which were somehow always itchy. Always opened the door when he had to use the bathroom, even if she chided him about tracking mud in afterward.

And suddenly she was gone, and now Merritt and Hulda were leaving, andwhat if none of them came back?

If they didn’t come back, Owein would be alone again.

The darkness lurked. He wagged his tail harder.

He turned back to the house. Baptiste was still there. But if Beth and Hulda and Merritt didn’t come home, wouldn’t he leave, too? He wouldn’t have a job anymore, right? Grown-ups always went where their jobs took them ...

A soft whine came up Owein’s throat. He refocused on the bay, watching the two boats get smaller and smaller.Please come back. Please come back. Please come back.

Please come back before I leave, too.

Because Merritt was right. Owein’s years were numbered.

And all of it made him feel so alone.

“Beth Taylor ismyemployee,” Merritt said forcefully over the desk. MissMegan Richards was perched where MissSadie Steverus ought to be. “Ipay her wages.Ihouse her. And no one here thought to notify me?”

He was dangerously close to yelling. The only thing that kept his vocal cords in check was Hulda’s fingertips pressing into the inside of his elbow, not quite holding him back but promising to if he got ahead of himself.

MissRichards, the Englishwoman with a luck penchant, fumbled with random paperwork on the desk. “MissTaylor is an employee of BIKER—”

“She’s acontractorfor BIKER,” Merritt snapped. “Andyou are not BIKER.”

The woman’s lip quivered slightly, and guilt wove between his ribs.

Behind him, a male voice said, “Indeed, and yet BIKER is not anything until we reform it, Mr.Fernsby.”

Merritt spun around to see the lawyer, Alastair Baillie, emerging from a room into the hallway.

“And?” Merritt asked, fire curling in his gut. “That’s supposed to make my other points moot?”

Baillie fixed his pocket square. “There’s a home in Canada that was built of magicked materials, and the value just skyrocketed. Now the previous owner wants it back from the individual he sold it to, and the issue has gone to court.”

Merritt glowered. “I think we’re having two different conversations.”

Baillie removed his glasses and cleaned them with said pocket square. “We need a clairvoyant to help with the testimonies.”

The nonchalance with which the Englishman delivered the information made Merritt’s knuckles itch to connect with his nose. “A clairvoyant who is employed in the American housing market needs to be available to the Canadian court system?”

Baillie frowned. “Not that you would understand, Mr.Fernsby, but wizards of any type are rare and valuable. LIKER oversees BIKER, and BIKER oversees the entirety of North America, not merely the States. When special situations arise, it is our duty to find from the network the magical worker best suited to fulfill them. MissTaylor went willingly.”

“And decided not to send so much as a pigeon,” Merritt countered. It wasn’t like Beth to simply up and disappear without letting others know of her whereabouts.

Thiiiiiiirst,the plant in the corner whined. Merritt ignored it.

“Speaking of Whimbrel House—which is your abode, is it not?” As he strode near, Hulda inched closer to Merritt’s side. “I can’t find the file on it.”