Page 92 of The Lighthouse Keeper

We didn’t wait to hear the answer. Keeping close to the building, we slipped to the tower door. The lock yielded to a quickly crafted key, and we were in.

Face to face with the specter of Martin Gallagher.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

“What on earth?” Margaret stopped right behind me, her hand on my shoulder.

Martin’s specter stood between us and the stairs, arms raised as if he wanted to look even more frightening than normal. The coins still covered his eyes but he’d lost the rag holding his mouth shut and now it flopped open like a great black maw.

“We need to wind the light, Martin. Let us pass.” My voice sounded amazingly calm, given the circumstances. The box in my pocket grew heavier. I put my hand on it and found it was warm.

Martin lowered his arms and I found myself frightened of what might come out of his gaping mouth. A low groan sent chills down my back and Margaret clutched my arm.

“Come on, Martin, we’re—”

He rushed toward us, slamming into my shoulder and knocking Margaret back a few steps.

A frigid ache spread out from the place he hit and I clenched my teeth to keep them from chattering. I still clutched the amulet, though it was no longer warm. A ghost shouldn’t have been able to run me down like a football tackle, a fact I planned to discuss with Rafe later.

“Are you all right?” I asked Margert.

Her eyes were wide in her pale face, but she nodded.

“Let’s get the light wound.”

We climbed the stairs together, as if by unspoken agreement. Neither of us wanted to be left alone. At the top of the stairs, Margaret reached for the mechanism, but I stopped her.

With the smallest push of power I could muster, I turned a coin into a pair of pliers. “Use these.” For all we knew, someone had put another spell on the handle.

“Good.” She took the pliers and gave the mechanism a tug. The cable whined as it wound on the spool, an eerie sound that only added to my nerves. The light flashed on, blinding me. I blinked, grateful that Margaret’s silhouette remained. The light moved on, and for a moment I had the sense of how much of the world could be seen from the top of the tower. So much water and so much space, and no time to honor either of them.

“Back to the workshop,” I said, tucking the coin back in my pocket. Despite the darkness, I didn’t make a witchlight, picking my way slowly down the stairs instead.

We reached the lower level and the door swung open. Stevenson stood there, the dark muzzle of his pistol drawing most of my attention.

“Happy to see both of you,” he said. “It’s time to join the others.” He waved the gun in our direction and three of his companions filed in through the door. “Tie their hands, and this time, make sure that little pansy can’t get loose.”

His companions were young, raw, and if they could cobble a spell between the three of them, I’d be surprised. With the coin in my pocket, I could make any kind of weapon, though I might not know how to use most of them. Margaret and I shared a glance. If she had a plan, she wasn’t sharing. Stevenson’s pistol had six shots, assuming he’d loaded it. Enough to do both of us harm.

I hated to give up without a fight, but I wasn’t sure what to do next. If we broke free of these four, where would we go? The forest held little appeal, and this sliver of land was too small to provide many places to hide. Besides, Stevenson had said ‘join them’. Had they already captured Rafe and Della?

A pair of young men grabbed my arms. I tried to shake free, more for show than any real desire to fight. Clenching the coin, I allowed them to bind my hands, putting up enough resistance to make my anger clear.

Once the third man had Margaret bound, they marched us out onto the lawn. The fog had cleared, and they’d set out four large candles, likely matched to the four points on the compass. The flames glowed in the darkness, and rows of smaller candles marked the sides of the square.

At the center of the square, a pair of men held lanterns, illuminating a small area. Rutger stood between them, with Rafe facing him.

Della stood to the left, outside of the square, her back to the ocean. Her posture was passive, expressionless, as if she’d already given up.

Stevenson’s assistants pushed us toward Della. Poor Margaret was unable to lift her skirts, but she managed to avoid setting herself on fire as we passed close to the candles. I stumbled, unable to maintain my balance with my arms behind my back.

“Welcome.” Rutger spoke without looking toward us. Instead, his attention was focused on the golden basin he held. He wore a black cape trimmed in gold, like some kind of stage warlock. Lantern light flickered across the liquid in the bowl, and while it looked clear now, I’d guess it wouldn’t once he started his ritual.

Margaret and I crowded close to Della. Rafe stood rigid, the tendons in his neck standing out. Clearly he’d allowed Rutger to capture him, although I had to wonder why. Maybe they’d managed to grab Della first and used her as bait.

Rutger began to talk, although after “with or without the amulet, I will do this,” I stopped paying attention. Rafe’s glasses had been lost at some point, his eyes pools of blackness. His tension heightened my fear, and even Margaret’s breathing came fast. I could turn the coin into a small knife, but handing it to her would be difficult, unless we were standing back-to-back. Hard to know if anyone would notice unless we tried.

I nudged her with my elbow, then eased around so I was standing at an angle to the square. I stretched my hands until I could tug at her sleeve. She twitched, as if I’d surprised her, but she too shifted around. Neither of us had made a big move, but now I could brush her fingers with mine. I managed to make a knife without dropping the coin and slipped the blade between her wrists and the rope binding her.

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