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Chapters (46)
  1. Cover
  2. Praise
  3. About the Author
  4. Dedication
  5. Map
  6. Ancient Apothecary’s Oath
  7. 1
  8. 2
  9. 3
  10. 4
  11. 5
  12. 6
  13. 7
  14. 8
  15. 9
  16. 10
  17. 11
  18. 12
  19. 13
  20. 14
  21. 15
  22. 16
  23. 17
  24. 18
  25. 19
  26. 20
  27. 21
  28. 22
  29. 23
  30. 24
  31. 25
  32. 26
  33. 27
  34. 28
  35. 29
  36. 30
  37. 31
  38. 32
  39. 33
  40. 34
  41. 35
  42. 36
  43. Nella Clavinger’s Apothecary of Poisons
  44. Historical Note
  45. Recipes
  46. Acknowledgments

I looked at the book in his hands. It would take a great while, a couple of hours, at least, to read every spell within. And even then, who knew if I would find something that might prove useful? “Do you believe in the curse of magick?” I asked.

Tom hesitated. “I don’t know what I believe. I only know that this book is very special to me. I would not be here without it.” He then set the book gently in my lap. “I would like you to have it. You may take it for free, if you like.”

“Oh, I can pay you, surely—” I reached a sweaty hand into my pocket, fumbling for a coin.

He put out a hand but did not touch me. “I’d rather it go to someone I like than a complete stranger.”

At once I felt hot, almost unwell, as my stomach turned loops inside of me. “Thank you,” I said, hugging the book close to my chest.

“Just promise one thing,” he said. “If you find a spell in there that works, it will be two for two. Promise me you will stop by and tell me of it.”

“I promise,” I said, untangling my tingling legs to stand. And though I did not want to go, I had no reason to stay. Making my way toward the door, I turned back a final time. “And if I try a spell and it does not work?”

This seemed to take him by surprise. “If the spell does not work... Well, then the book cannot be trusted, and you must come back to exchange it for another.” His eyes glinted mischievously.

“So either way, then—”

“I’ll be seeing you. Good day, Eliza.”

I walked out the door in a dizzy haze, feeling a strange, new feeling, one I had not felt in my twelve years of life. It was foreign and nameless to me, but I felt sure it was not hunger or fatigue, for neither of those things had ever made my step so light and my face so warm. I hurried west, eventually walking along the south edge of St. Paul’s churchyard, to find a bench in the soft, quiet frontage of the church. A place where I could read every single spell and, perhaps, find one to take to the Amwell house today.

With all my might, I wished to find the perfect spell inside this book of maybe-magick. Something not only to remove spirits and mend all that was broken, but something that would permit me to share the good news with Tom Pepper as soon as possible.

20

Nella

February 10, 1791