Chapter Twenty

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Sophie caught Mary by the wrists and fought desperately to hold her back. The witch's dark strength channelled into Henriette's frail body, making it almost impossible to keep her at bay. Mary grit her stained teeth, growling, and pressed her fingers - rigidly curved like claws - closer and closer to Sophie's face.

"Angeli boni salvate hanc animam." Sophie forced the words out, appealing to the angelic envoys Mr Westman had spoken about. She recalled the powerful white light she had seen in the library, and continued to call out the incantation. "Angeli boni salvate hanc animam..."

Mary's hands shook with force and she won the battle, slamming her hands over Sophie's mouth. With a muffled protest, Sophie reached for the talisman and pressed it to the exposed skin of Mary's wrist. She hoped the contact would do something; weaken her perhaps; anything! Skin began to sizzle, giving rise to smoke and the smell of burning flesh, and Mary screamed, loosening her hold.

Sophie shoved the witch away and kicked her into the bushes, catching her breath when Mary fell hard against the base of a statue, hitting her head. With a groan, the witch turned slowly onto her back, but before she could recover, Sophie slipped off her talisman and rushed over to kneel next to her. She forced the pendant over Mary's head and recited the spell again.            Instantly, Mary's eyes flew wide and she clawed at the talisman pressed to her body. To Sophie's astonishment, light from the pendant began to seep between her fingers.

She chanted louder, emboldened by the glowing talisman. It was working, just as Mr Westman had said. Mary screamed and twisted her face away from the light. The power emanating from the amulet intensified and illuminated the garden around them as brightly as daylight. Sophie knelt on the witch to stop her struggles. With every utterance of the spell, Mary grew weaker.

"Angeli boni salvate hanc animam."

Finally, in a shaft of misty light, the envoys pulled Mary's spirit out of her host and dragged her into the white radiance. The body beneath her went slack and still. Then the light receded and the familiar moonlight coated the garden once more.

Heart still racing, Sophie peered cautiously at the young woman in front of her. Her eyes were closed, but her deathly complexion looked warmer, at least.

"Lady Henriette," she said, gently shaking her shoulder. "Can you hear me?"

A small crease formed between Henriette's eyebrows and she moaned quietly. When she opened her eyes and blinked groggily up at her, Sophie knew it was over.

"What happened?" asked Henriette.

A relieved smile tugged up Sophie's lips. "It's all right. She's gone... she's gone."

Sophie stood shakily and turned when Lord Crowthorne spoke behind her.

"Thank goodness," he said. His wet clothing dripped after his tumble into the fountain. But Sophie's attention was drawn to the figures accompanying him. There were five of them. Masked figures, wearing scarves and handkerchiefs to hide their lower faces. Archaic pendants hung around their necks, glinting in the dark, and they were armed with guns and daggers. It dawned on her that two of them held Crowthorne's arms behind his back, restraining him.

Sophie stared, a fresh chill creeping over her skin. Who on earth were these cloaked militants? One of the men strode past her and kneeled beside Lady Henriette. Taking her chin in his hand, he tilted her head back to peer into the eyes.

"She's released," he reported to his accomplices then glanced at Sophie. "This young woman expelled the spirit."

Another member of the group approached her, his eyes visible and shining above the scarf. "Nicely done, Miss Penderry."

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