4. Summoning

“You were quite friendly with Marfleet,” Blackburn said darkly. He swung his cane at the forest’s underbrush as they walked.

Cordelia plunged steadfast into the dewy plants, despite the realization that it would dirty her best (and only) leather shoes. “Well, I met him this morning, obtaining the address.”

Blackburn looked over at her, throwing up his hands. “He works for the Scotland Yard! Now we have him on our tails… he’s always pedaling around in my business.”

“If he’s also on the case, perhaps he could help?” suggested Cordelia, stepping over a tree stump.

Blackburn huffed and stabbed his cane into the ground. “Harvey Marfleet--” Blackburn violently yanked his cane back out of the ground, “has never helped anyone but himself. He will only make our work more difficult.”

Cordelia shook her head, but only because she was a step behind Blackburn still, and out of view. She pondered asking why the two had such animosity towards one another.

Instead, she was stopped by Blackburn’s arm, which had been suddenly thrown out in front of her. Nimbly, she dodged around it, trying to see why they had stopped.

“Stop that,” Blackburn said sternly.

She did, but only because she saw it: a circle of stones on the ground. She looked down at it, her feet just an inch away, her skirts swishing around her.

“Do not step in the circle,” Blackburn said, holding out a hand as if testing the air.

She looked at him, and noted the curiosity on his face and the eagerness in his eyes. “And why would that be, Mr. Blackburn?”

He actually rolled his eyes, making Cordelia purse her lips in a suppressed smile. “Cordelia,” he said lightly.

She waited for him to say more, but he instead stared silently into the circle of stones. Finally, he asked, “The time, Miss Green?”

Sighing, Cordelia dug into her skirt pocket and procured an old, but accurate, timepiece. She lifted her veil to better see it, and tapping the face, read, “Just a hair past nine.”

Blackburn was silent a moment, then said, “Indeed, indeed. Strange, isn’t it?” He had the smallest of smile on his lips.

Cordelia could not help but raise her brow, her mind recalling all the strange things she had read about in the books in Blackburn’s house. “So it is what I believe it to be?” she asked, looking back at the stones.

Blackburn lifted his cane, looking satisfied. “Yes, Cordelia, a conjuring circle.”

“Conjuring what exactly?” Cordelia asked, taking a step back from the circle of stones.

Blackburn nodded to himself in a thinking sort of manner, then replied, “That I do not know. The answer to all of our questions, I assume, will come from the fortune tellers in these woods.”

Cordelia glanced around as if the fortune tellers would appear at the mere mention, but the forest was still and dark. She had no idea how one would go about finding them.

Blackburn, on the contrary, sprang into action. Throwing back his coat tails, he knelt and began to dig into the earth around the stones.

Cordelia’s brows drew together in distaste; she was still unused to his utter lack of respect towards precedence. His hands and clothes--they would soon be filthy!

“Keep one eye on the time, will you?” Blackburn called over his shoulder, now removing the stones from the ground and rearranging them.

The timepiece still sitting in Cordelia’s hand read 9:03, the same time she had seen before. “The hands, they’re not moving,” Cordelia told Blackburn.

He tossed a rock beside him, then began digging again. “Yes. In a traditional summoning ritual, there is a closing procedure, much like locking the door to your house when leaving. That hasn’t been done here, and the air is full of… stale magic, you could say. It’s suppressing the time.”

Cordelia stepped back to avoid a rock that Blackburn tossed behind him. “So time is stopped?” she asked, eyes wide.

“Not stopped, exactly, just moving at a different speed...” Blackburn said, trailing off slightly. “The time now?”

Looking down, Cordelia saw the hands tick steadily onwards. “It’s moving! Four past nine.”

Blackburn stood, his hands and coat sufficiently muddied. “Excellent. I’ve discharged the circle, so nothing else will come through.” His mouth quirked as he looked at Cordelia. “Now, we get to find what came through in the first place.”

--

Previous chapter: https://theprose.com/post/292199/3-meeting-marfleet

Next chapter: https://theprose.com/post/294546/5-watch-your-ankles