And if that weren’t enough, there were people out there with the rot. And a dying world. Or worlds. She needed time to think. She needed a way of making sure Naiell wouldn’t touch her. A truce, between everyone. So that the brothers were beyond each other’s reach, so that Graal wouldn’t hurt Rime, and so that the blind wouldn’t ravage Ym. And it had to last long enough for her to find a cure for the beak.
Fragments of a plan began to form in her mind. She wasn’t sure how, but she knew what had to happen. It would require her to do things she wasn’t sure she could. But she would have to. The question was whether she’d get the chance. Would she be able to fool Naiell? Stay alive long enough to carry out her plan? It didn’t seem possible. He’d been watching her like a hawk since they’d found her.
“I know you’re awake.” Stefan sat down on the floor beside her. His voice was calmer than the day before. Maybe he’d gotten everything out of his system. It had been a lot for him to take in. Not only had he lost her and his phone, the woman whose home they’d been staying in had chucked them out. He hadn’t dared stay in Stockholm any longer, so Hirka had had to put up with him yelling at her for three days straight on the way back to York. At least she was back where she’d started, though she didn’t know why that was a comfort to her. Maybe he felt the same. Maybe they were just too tired to run any more.
They’d broken into a loft in what Stefan said was an old factory, squashed between two blocks of flats. Dust and dirt had collected in the cracks between the floorboards. Rusted metal pipes ran along the ceiling and the walls. The corners were piled high with all sorts of chains, nails, and pulleys. The symbols painted on the walls told her they weren’t the first to break in.
Hirka turned toward Stefan. He was sitting against the wall, hands resting on his knees. “Do you have any idea what it’s like, how intense it is, spending a morning with him and not understanding a word he says?” He nodded at Naiell, who was standing at the other end of the room, his claws buried in a tray of raw meat.
She sat up. “Lucky for you he doesn’t say much,” she said.
“Listen, Hirka … I’m sorry that guy you know is caught up in all this, I really am. I get that you want to find him, I do. I’m not completely clueless. But …”
“Don’t ever do that again?”
He was fiddling with a water bottle. Water dripped from the cap and onto the floor. Dark specks grew in the dust. She wondered when he’d last had a cigarette.
“Naiell’s right,” he said. “You could have been killed. You were lucky.”
“Would that have been so bad? Without me, you could go home. Or at least stay at a hotel. Without me you’d have your life back, Stefan.”
“Yes, and what a life it was. Fucking spectacular. Really.”
She smiled. “So you’re saying this is better?”
He bumped his shoulder against hers. “Shut up, girl.”
Naiell came over, wearing trousers and nothing else. Hirka felt Stefan tense. He got up and left her with the blindling. She should have trusted his instincts a long time ago.
Naiell looked down at her. It was impossible not to compare him to his brother now. Both had black hair. Graal’s was short and wild. Naiell’s nearly reached his waist. She remembered thinking that Naiell sounded very clever. But he wasn’t really. He just used a lot of words to say very little.
“So did my brother have anything else to say? Did he say anything about what it was?”
“What?”
“The book he was after, which you generously decided to give him.”
“I had no choice! I thought he had Rime. And no, he didn’t mention what it was.”
“He must have said something?” Naiell cocked his head. Studied her. She was sitting in the corner and suddenly realized that was a bad place to be. “We didn’t really talk that much, like I said. I was scared out of my mind, and as soon as I heard people, I ran. He didn’t have Rime with him, anyway.”
Naiell crouched down in front of her. He was uncomfortably close. She looked into his milky eyes. Held his gaze as best she could. She knew she had to give him something. Something he’d believe.
“He said you’re a traitor and that I shouldn’t trust you.”
Naiell threw his head back and laughed. Unleashing the magpie in his throat. “Of course he did. Anything else would be unbelievable.”
He looked at her again. She’d have to give him more. “I told him about all the times you saved me. As a raven. Do you remember?”
He looked away without answering.
He doesn’t remember. Graal was right. He was more raven than Dreyri.
The window threw squares of pale light across his chest and down to the floor. “So what stroke of genius did he come up with to get you through? I imagine you asked him? The raven rings were dead, and this rotten place has no Might. We have to know how he did it!”
Hirka sighed. “I don’t know, he said he had … contacts. On the other side.”
“Contacts? How in Slokna could he have contact with …” Naiell suddenly went quiet. Black ink flooded his eyes. Then he got up with a roar. A primal scream from deep within. Stefan glanced over at them. She saw his hand jerk to his hip. Pure reflex.
Naiell started walking in a circle, the dust dancing around him. “The raven. They let him keep the raven.”
Hirka fought back a smile.
That’s right. The raven you killed.
Naiell’s own misdeed had given Graal the means to destroy him.
“Well,” Hirka said, “if we kill him, we’ll be stuck here. Forever. And I for one have a hard time imagining anything worse.”
“So we agree on something, Sulni.”
Hirka’s jaw tensed. She couldn’t let him know that she knew what her nickname meant. Then the game would be over. She searched her thoughts for the right words. She had to find a way to use Naiell’s weaknesses against him. She had no means of defeating him, or of destroying him. What else could she do but let him destroy himself?
He was a coward, yet vain. That was the key. His pride. That was what she needed to use against him.
“There is something we could do,” she said. “We could meet him. Set a trap. Say that we’re willing to trade me for Rime. Because it’s me he needs, right? My blood?”
Naiell nodded to confirm what she now knew to be a lie. She fought to keep her voice steady. “And when we meet him, we overpower him and force him to send us home.”
Naiell folded his arms over his chest. He hesitated. Of course. He’d never dare meet his brother man-to-man. Dreyri-to-Dreyri.
“It’s too risky,” he said. “Graal has followers here, and no one has managed to find me any.”
Hirka stood up. “You’re wrong. You have plenty.”
He looked at her. She smiled with all the confidence she could muster. “I’m going to give you an army, Naiell. An army of the forgotten. An army of all those he’s betrayed.”
Naiell held his arms out. “Now we’re talking, Sulni!”
He’d taken the bait. Now it was just a matter of keeping her promise. Building an army of the forgotten. Without Stefan finding out, of course. He took a very dim view of the old blood slaves. He wouldn’t understand.
But this was bigger than Stefan. Bigger than the forgotten.
This was what she was made for.
SETTING THE BOARD
“I need to borrow your phone,” Hirka said, as nonchalantly as she could.
“Couldn’t you just steal it? That’s what you usually do,” Stefan replied as he pulled a rag through the chamber of his gun. It was lying in pieces on the table—a door they’d laid across two stools.
“Can I borrow it or not?”
“Why do you need a phone? It’s not like you can phone home.” He laughed at his own joke and looked at Naiell, before remembering that the blindling couldn’t understand a word he said.
“You don’t have anyone to call. And I don’t have any games on it.”
“I want t
o talk to Allegra. Surely I’m allowed to do that?” It was a lie, but she couldn’t exactly tell him she wanted to call the man they’d been running from for the past month.
He put the barrel and the spring back in the slide. “What in God’s name do you want to talk to her about?”
Hirka grinned. She’d given that some thought. “Clothes.”
Stefan raised an eyebrow. “Clothes?”
“And shoes. Clothes and shoes.”
“Do you need to look good to be eaten by the forgotten? New shoes for your own funeral? Women …” He took his phone out of his back pocket. “Here. Press the green button and you’ll get straight through to her. But not a word about where we are, okay?”
Hirka took the phone and went into the next room. She closed the door behind her and pulled the chocolate wrapper out of her pocket. The one with Graal’s and Isac’s phone numbers on it. She sat on the windowsill. The glass was dirty and divided into small panes. One of them was cracked, held in place by sticky strips. What was that called again? Tape. The roll was still on the floor, next to a rusty bucket. All these broken things were depressing. Made her feel sluggish. Everything was catching up with her. All the days on the road. Poisonous food. Too little sleep. Too much death. The forgotten. Graal.
But she couldn’t give up now. She could sleep when she got to Slokna. She had to hold out until this was over.
She tapped the phone and Allegra’s name disappeared. Then she tapped the green button and the numbers came up. She smiled. She was an expert now. She tapped the numbers in the right order. It rang.
“Yes?” Graal’s voice.
“It’s me.”
“Are you okay? Does anyone know you’re calling?”
“No one knows. We left Stockholm. We’re back in York now.”
“Can you get away from him? I can pick you up wherever.”
Hirka lowered her voice. “I haven’t been alone since I was with you. He suspects something.”
“I expected as much. Hirka, we got the Ravenbearer out of the woods. He’s with one of my people. We’re going to see whether we can send him home tomorrow.”
No! Not yet!
Hirka pressed the phone to her ear, fighting the urge to say she wanted to talk to Rime. Hear his voice. That couldn’t happen. Not now. It would tear her apart. The most important thing now was getting Graal to listen.
“I can give you Naiell,” she said.
There was silence at the other end. She continued. “I know what you’re thinking. The day he dares meet you man-to-man is the day all of Slokna awakes. But I promise I can make him feel bold enough to try. But we need Rime.”
“Rime An-Elderin can’t be here, Hirka. He loses influence in Mannfalla with every day he’s gone.”
“Graal, believe me, the next time we meet, you’ll be glad you have him.”
She thought she could hear him smiling. “What are you planning, blood of my blood?”
“A trade. Me for Rime. And Naiell’s freedom. Or that’s what I’ll let him believe.”
“You’re playing with fire, Hirka. My brother has killed his own before. He’ll never be rid of that taint. He won’t hesitate to kill you either, if he’s forced to.”
“That’s what I’m counting on. That’s why we need Rime. Give me five days. That’s all I’m asking. Five days, then meet us in the burned-out church, in the evening.”
She could almost hear the wheels turning. Weighing the risks against the rewards. She was pretty sure he cared about her. After all, she was proof, of sorts, that he’d survived. His heir. Blood of his blood. But he had to care about revenge more. Otherwise he’d refuse.
“Five days,” he said at long last.
Hirka felt a stab of disappointment, even though she’d gotten what she wanted. “Good,” she said. “But I want to see Rime first.”
“That’s going to be difficult.”
“If anyone can find a way, it’s you. I want to see him. And I know you can make it happen,” she said. Then she pressed the red button. One down, one to go. She tapped out the other phone number written on the wrapper.
“Yel-low!”
“Hi, Isac,” she said.
“Well, I’ll be! I was starting to worry I’d never hear from you again, missy. Where are you?” He sounded cheerful, but there was no beating around the bush, she had to give him that.
“I’m back in York. We need to meet.”
“How do you know I’m not still in hospital? For all you knew, I could have been dead.”
Hirka smiled. “I had a hunch. Can we meet?”
“But of course, little miss. It would be my pleasure. Does this mean you’ve won?”
“Not yet. How do you feel?”
“Fantastic, since you ask. Haven’t felt better in years. I almost feel like buying an electric guitar.” Hirka could hear him grinning. She let out a breath. It felt like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She had been right. Now she could only hope she hadn’t made matters worse.
“And your thirst?” she asked. He was silent for a moment.
“I’ve cheated death,” he replied. “Or was that you?”
“How many of the others can you get hold of by tomorrow?” She assumed she didn’t need to explain who she meant.
“Why?”
“How many, Isac?”
“Here in town … six, maybe eight tops.”
“That’s not enough, we need more.”
He laughed. “If you think you can get them to join up and take their revenge on him, you don’t know your father as well as you think you do. He’s forgotten them, but they’ll never forget him. They love him.”
“They’ll love me more. You know why. Tell them that. I need twelve. At least.”
“Listen, missy, if I spread this rumor, more will come than you can handle. There’ll be nothing left of you.” He was in top form. Had she not known he’d recently been bedridden with tubes coming out of him, she’d never have believed it.
“Do as I say, Isac. Tell them what I’ve done for you. What I can give them. When can we meet?”
“Give me two days and I can get you your twelve, but if you want more, you’ll have to give them time to fly in.”
“I don’t have time to wait. Ask them to come and we’ll meet in two days, in the alleyway.”
“The alleyway? Missy, this is a big city …”
“The alleyway where you dragged me into a car, set fire to the church, and where Stefan almost smashed your skull open. Got it?”
“Thanks for the reminder … What time?”
“Eight o’clock. In the morning.”
“Ugh, you are a sadist, missy. I hope you know what you’re doing.”
“I’m a healer,” she replied. “I always know what I’m doing.”
It wasn’t true, but it felt nice to say, and it soothed her nerves.
She pressed the red button. The two most important pieces were set.
ENOUGH
Hirka left the room and almost walked straight into Stefan. He was waiting for her, arms crossed. Had he been listening?
He held his hand out for his phone. She gave it to him. He tapped the screen and held it up in front of her. “So who will I get through to if I call this number?”
“What number?”
“This number. The last one you called.”
Hirka bit her lip. Her blood didn’t know whether to run hot or cold. He could see who she’d talked to. She had no explanation. It was over.
“I can tell you one thing,” he said. “It won’t be Allegra.”
Hirka took a couple of steps back and bumped into the wall. Stefan leaned toward her. The number she’d called glowed at her from the screen. She tried to duck around him, but he stopped her with his arm and pressed her up against the wall.
“The last time I checked, Allegra didn’t speak your language.”
“Stefan …”
“Enough!” He pressed her harder against the wall. His eyes were narrowed. Furious
. She lifted her elbow to protect herself, but then he let go. His eyes lost some of their fire. “Enough …” he whispered.
He shoved the phone in his pocket. “I’ve been hunting him since I was a fucking child, and you go behind my back? What have you done? Sold me out?”
“It’s not what you think, Stefan.”
“No,” he dragged a hand through his hair. “No, it never is.”
She looked at him. Brown eyes, brown hair tipped with blond that caught the light shining in through a dirty window. He was just a man. She was surrounded by men. Strong men and weak men. Stefan was human, and there was no way he’d walk away from this unscathed. She had to let him go. It would hurt, but she had no choice.
Hirka craned her neck to look for Naiell, but it was just the two of them. “So you trust Naiell? You believe what he says?” she asked.
“I’ve never trusted that creature, and I don’t trust his brother either. But clearly you do.”
“You don’t understand, Stefan. I don’t trust either of them. But they’re going to meet, and it’s going to get ugly. If you get your way, they’ll end up killing each other. And me. But this isn’t your fight.”
“Not my fight?! I’m the one who’s been tracking him for years! Following his blood slaves. I’m the one who’s shown you the world, but this isn’t my fight? So what, you’re just going to stab me in the back? You gave him the book, girl! In exchange for a boy he didn’t even have!”
“That boy is more of a man than you’ll ever be! At least he knows he’s a murderer. You still think you’re a savior. You’re a coward, Stefan.”
He dragged a hand over his stubble. “A coward who saves you from half-rotten monsters.”
“Saves me? You didn’t kill me. That doesn’t make you a hero.”
“I’ve driven halfway across Europe with you! Every fucking day I fight to—”
“To destroy them, yes. But they’re people, Stefan. And I can heal them! Has it ever occurred to you that there might be a cure for the rot? Or would that put you out of a job?”
He raised his fist. She braced herself, but then he let his arm drop again. His anger turned to doubt. She’d hit a nerve he didn’t even know he had. Stefan didn’t know himself very well.
The Rot Page 36
