While I have evaded the phantom form of the Dark Spirit, I am not beyond the reach of his magic. Magic that has increased and intensified since our last encounter. There swirls about him a foul-smelling mist that reaches for me, filling my nose and mouth with its unearthly poison. I clamber to my feet and force myself to stand firm. Beneath the dim glow of a lone streetlamp I see a carriage drawn to a halt and two men emerge. It is clear that, with the aid of Willoughby, they mean to snatch me away, and no doubt deliver me to the waiting Sentinels, most likely Stricklend himself.

I think not.

“You underestimate me, Dark Spirit. You and your master,” I tell him. Willoughby turns, drawing himself up, his very presence sufficiently forbidding to make the men from the carriage pause in their step. That they don’t flee in terror tells me they must at the very least be minor Sentinels themselves. I quickly cast a spell of disturbance, slamming shut the heavy gates that stood ajar between me and my earthbound assailants. If they have any spellcraft themselves they do not have time to use it. I begin an incantation to return a spirit to the Darkness, which is sufficient to cause Willoughby to have to muster his own power to resist me. At the same time I send a spell of small fire at the carriage. The canvas roof of the little vehicle is aflame in seconds. The horse whinnies in alarm, and the driver struggles to control it. The men are forced to return to beat at the fire which has taken hold. The terrified horse gives in to his natural instinct and bolts, sending one man sprawling onto the pavement, the other clinging to the carriage as it speeds away. A shout goes up and a policeman’s whistle sounds. From farther up the street come running footsteps. I open the gates with another spell and hurry through them, relying on the fact that Willoughby will not want to confront me when I am among people. I feel his dark magic fading as I hurry to join the small crowd who have gathered to assist the panic-stricken horse. Only when I am certain the Dark Spirit has gone do I turn for home, cursing my own stupidity at being drawn into such a trap, wondering if Lord Grimes’s footman who delivered the fake note to me is the only one of his servants to be in the employ of the Sentinels.

*   *   *