Casting Souls

by Becca Andre

  Table Of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Afterword

  Glossary

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Casting Souls

  Iron Souls: Book Five

  Copyright © 2019 by Becca Andre. All rights reserved.

  First Print Edition: 2019

  Editor: Shelley Holloway

  Cover and Formatting: Streetlight Graphics

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.

  Chapter 1

  Briar threw a punch.

  At the last possible moment, Kali leaned to the side, and Briar’s fist lightly brushed her cheek as it passed. Off balance, Briar stumbled forward and could do nothing to avoid Kali’s punch to her stomach. She doubled over with a grunt, surprised by both the speed and strength of the blow.

  “Kali.” Perseus’s tone was scolding, though if a person didn’t know him, they might think him indifferent.

  “Sorry.” Kali didn’t sound sorry.

  Briar noticed the glint in her eye when she straightened.

  “I’m not very good at pulling my punches,” Kali said.

  Briar rubbed her bruised stomach. It wasn’t the first punch she had taken. “I’m sure I’ll give you plenty more opportunities to practice.”

  “Don’t be so hard on yourself, lass,” Uncle Liam said from his seat beside Perseus. They had the forward cargo hold to themselves, having chosen this space because it was less cluttered than the aft hold—and it gave them plenty of privacy. Briar hadn’t explained to the crew, or Grayson, what she was working on.

  “You’ve only been at this two days,” Liam reminded her.

  Briar sighed. “I know, but I’ve been wanting to punch Kali for so long that it’s extra frustrating.”

  Kali flashed her a grin, a mischievous twinkle in her dark eyes.

  Liam chuckled and got to his feet. “If it makes you feel any better, she would probably get in a few blows on me.”

  Kali was turning away, but Briar caught her smile in profile. She was pleased by the praise, so Briar decided not to tease Liam that even she could get in a few hits on him.

  “Now that you’ve gotten your exercise,” Liam continued, “shall we work with the other?” He pulled out the worn throwing knife he’d borrowed from Perseus and offered it to her.

  Briar accepted the knife with trepidation. It was a single piece of soul iron with a molded handle. The metal felt warmer than it should—as soul iron often did—but that was the extent of any difference she felt.

  “Perseus should teach me how to throw it,” she said to Liam. “That’s about all I’ll be able to do with this.”

  “You’re defeated before you begin,” Liam said.

  “I’m not. I just don’t sense what the rest of you do. It feels a little warm to me, but that’s all.”

  “Maybe if you used your fiddle,” Liam suggested.

  Briar sighed. They’d already tried that multiple times as well.

  “Briar?” Liam prompted when she remained silent.

  “I’m sorry, but none of this is working. I can’t do anything with the inanimate soul iron.”

  “What if Drake made—”

  “No.” Briar glanced toward the stern of the boat even though she couldn’t see past the stable cabin. Grayson was in the aft cabin, helping Molly prepare the evening meal. He hadn’t asked Briar what she and their Scourge passengers had been doing these last two days, but she suspected he knew. Hopefully, he thought she was just getting some training to better the odds should she encounter another ferromancer’s soulless henchman. Of course, Grayson now had one of his own.

  Briar forced that thought from her mind. “No,” she repeated. “I don’t want him using any of his abilities.” Not when they seemed to accelerate his devolvement.

  Liam rubbed the back of his neck, studying her for a moment before turning to Perseus. “Any suggestions?”

  Perseus remained seated on the barrel where he’d been perched to watch Briar and Kali spar. He hadn’t said much, which was in keeping with his nature—even though he had warmed up a bit since Briar first met him.

  “At this point, I am inclined to agree with her,” Perseus answered with that unusual accent of his. “She does not appear to sense what we do.”

  “Yet she completely dissolved a ferromancer in a single burst,” Liam said. “Even you can’t do that.”

  “Precisely. She’s not like us.”

  Briar walked over to pour herself cup of water while Perseus and Liam continued their discussion. It had become a common topic of conversation between them.

  “Let’s face it,” Kali said, stopping beside her. “You’re an oddity.”

  “I always have been.”

  Kali smiled at that, but didn’t continue the teasing as she got a drink for herself.

  Briar was glad they’d finally moved past their animosities. It was one less worry, though she had several others.

  “I wish we had more time,” Liam said. They would arrive in Portsmouth tomorrow where it seemed every free ferromancer had gathered and awaited her arrival—or more accurately, Grayson’s arrival.

  Dread tightened her stomach. Liam must have noticed her reaction because he placed a hand on her shoulder. “Do not fret, child.” He reverted to the old moniker he’d used since she was a child in truth. “I have some friends waiting for us in Waverly.”

  “Scourge?”

  “Yes. I’m sure they’ve already scouted the situation in Portsmouth and can tell us what we’re up against.”

  “Is that wise? What if they’re noticed? Solon might think I’m behind it and retaliate.”

  “These men and women have been doing this sort of thing for a very long time. They will not be identified.”

  “Remember,” Kali spoke up, “a ferromancer has to be within a few feet of us to know what we are.”

  Briar knew that was true, but she wasn’t entirely reassured.

  Movement made her look up to see Jimmy crossing the catwalk above them. He stopped when he saw he had her attention.

  “We’re coming up on a lock, Captain.”

  “I’ll be right up,” she answered.

  Lock climbed from her waistcoat pocket and scampered up to her shoulder. He leaned out to look at her, offering a whirr of puzzlement.

  “No, not you,” she said with a laugh, then reached up to rub the little metal dragon beneath the chin.

  Kali laughed as well, stepping closer. “Did he really think Jimmy was tal
king about him?”

  “I think he just wanted some attention,” Briar answered.

  An indignant screech of metal on metal came from the little construct. He leapt to Kali’s shoulder, then pressed his cheek against hers.

  “Totally deserved attention.” Kali rubbed him beneath the chin as well.

  Briar watched the way Lock leaned into the caress, marveling again how far she and Kali had come. She truly trusted the woman and knew she would never harm Lock.

  Liam watched the exchange with a faint frown. Unlike Kali, he’d been raised in a world where the Scourge didn’t play with constructs or befriend ferromancers. Perhaps with time, he would warm to the idea.

  Perseus on the other hand, smiled as he watched Kali pet Lock. But he’d always been far more sympathetic to the ferromancers’ plight. Although his current smile might be a reaction to seeing happiness in Kali rather than her usual anger.

  “What about a construct?” Liam asked.

  Briar frowned, not following the question. “What about him?”

  “Can you dissolve one?”

  Lock made a squeak of alarm and scooted closer to Kali’s neck.

  “You’re not suggesting—” Briar began.

  “Of course not,” Liam answered. “I meant in general. A construct is made of its creator’s living soul iron.”

  Watching Kali try to comfort Lock, Briar frowned as she considered Liam’s words. “How can that be? Don’t ferromancer boys create their constructs before their final casting?” Before they come into their full power and their ability to make their own soul iron.

  “When the ferromancer’s soul is transferred to the construct he created—”

  “You mean when his flesh-and-blood heart is transferred to the construct.”

  “Yes,” Liam answered, nonplussed. “The soul permeates the soul iron and makes it its own. Think of it as the young ferromancer’s first creation of soul iron.”

  “I’d rather not think on it at all.”

  “That’s not the point of this discussion. Can you dissolve a construct?”

  “I’ve never tried, but I suppose I could. With my fiddle.”

  Lock sprang into the air and began winging his way toward the stern.

  “Lock!” she called after him, then gave Liam a frown. “Thanks.” She walked away not giving him a chance to answer.

  Climbing up onto the stable deck, she crossed to the catwalk that would carry her over to the aft deck. The three main decks on the boat were technically the roofs of the three cabins, one forward, one midships, and one in the stern. The areas between the cabins served as the boat’s two cargo holds. Normally, the holds would be filled to the roofline, necessitating a catwalk above to traverse the boat. But this trip hadn’t been a typical run, and the holds were empty.

  But empty or full, staying above on the catwalk was her most direct route. She knew where Lock would go, or rather, who he would go to.

  Briar hurried toward the aft deck. They had stretched a tarp across one half of the hold below, providing some shade from the relentless early-September sun. But the tarp made it difficult to climb down into the hold and cross to her cabin as she normally would.

  She stepped onto the aft deck, intending to use the hatch to access the cabin below, but stopped when she noticed that Eli wasn’t in his usual position at the helm. To Briar’s surprise, Molly held the tiller while Eli sat on the rail beside her, a bowl in his lap.

  “Have you two swapped jobs?”

  Eli chuckled, then squeezed the nutcracker he held. With a loud crack, he halved the walnut shell trapped between the nutcracker’s teeth.

  “Don’t worry,” Molly spoke up. “I won’t be steering us into the lock. I’m only holding the tiller while Mr. Waller tackles a few stubborn walnuts for me.”

  “Ah,” Briar answered, smiling at the excuse. Molly always seemed to have some reason to linger on the tiller deck.

  “You’re doing fine, Miss Molly,” Eli said. “No reason why you shouldn’t continue.”

  Her eyes widened. “Oh no, I couldn’t possibly steer us into a lock. Please take back the tiller, sir.”

  Eli placed the nutcracker in the bowl with the nuts and left his seat on the rail. He stepped around behind Molly, but didn’t take the tiller from her. “I’ll be right here to guide you.”

  She stared up at him, then swallowed loudly. “I don’t—”

  “It’s part of being a canaller,” Eli explained. “Any one of us can do any job on this boat.”

  “Except cook,” Briar spoke up.

  A small smile curled Molly’s lips. “Sounds like each of you needs to spend time with me at the stove.”

  “But cooking is an art,” Eli protested.

  “Wait until I bounce this boat off the lock walls, then tell me that steering a boat isn’t an art.”

  “The way Eli does it, it certainly is,” Briar agreed. “But I’d much rather have him steer my boat than fix my meals.”

  “Who’s to say he wouldn’t make a fine cook—with a little instruction?” Molly insisted.

  “I’ll leave you two to sort this out.” She winked, then crossed to the hatch and climbed down the ladder into the aft cabin. With preparations for the evening meal well underway, the cabin was stifling. That was probably why Grayson was nowhere in sight.

  She stepped out into the hold and saw Grayson immediately, though she didn’t see Lock. Grayson and Benji sat at the folding table where the crew typically took their meals. Grayson’s small black tool bag sat on the table beside him, but he wasn’t working on any of Benji’s fishing lures.

  The gadget Grayson had constructed looked like a propeller encased in a cage and attached to a rectangular box.

  “Captain,” Benji greeted her, his evident excitement overcoming his usual reserve. “Have you seen Mr. Martel’s latest invention?”

  “I didn’t actually invent it,” Grayson said with his familiar British accent. He had doffed his waistcoat and rolled up the sleeves of his linen shirt to battle the heat, but judging by the color in his cheeks and the sweat dampening his dark hair, he hadn’t been the victor.

  “It’s an electric fan,” Benji informed her. “Except it doesn’t run on electricity.”

  “Oh?” she prompted, amused by Benji’s enthusiasm. Normally, the sixteen-year-old had a tendency to blush and go mute around her, but that seemed to be changing.

  “But it could,” Benji quickly added. “Mr. Martel made it with all the wires and such an electric fan would have, but he has to use a ferromantic power cell.”

  “Listen to you,” she said. “You’re starting to sound like an engineer.”

  Benji blushed, but also beamed at the praise.

  “Unfortunately, I have to interrupt your lesson,” she said. “We’ve got a lock coming up, and Jimmy needs you to help with the downstream gates.”

  “Of course, Captain.” Benji sprang to his feet, though he cast the fan a wistful glance.

  “I need to get back to my stew anyway,” Grayson told him. “We can drag out the tools again after supper.”

  “We can?” Benji grinned from ear to ear. “Thank you!” He hurried away, still grinning.

  Amused, Briar watched him climb up onto the stable deck and head toward the bow. “With that kind of enthusiasm for mechanical things, he might as well be a ferromancer.”

  “Few ferromancers actually make things.” Grayson got to his feet and began to pack away his tools. “Except their construct.”

  She looked up. Was that an indirect reference to what had just happened? “Where’s Lock?”

  “The aft cabin.” Grayson picked up the tool bag and his fan. “You didn’t need to come looking for him. He is yours to command.” Without another word, he took his things and retreated to the aft cabin.

  Briar frowned after him. A distance had
grown between them over the past two days, but it seemed it wasn’t just the events in Newark that had caused it.

  She took a step to follow him. “Miss Briar?” Eli called to her from the aft deck. “We’re getting close,” he added when she stepped out from beneath the tarp.

  “Would you lock us through?” she asked.

  His bushy eyebrows drew together, but he nodded. “Aye, Captain.” He turned toward the tiller and moved out of sight.

  Briar squared her shoulders and stepped into the aft cabin.

  Grayson had set his fan on the table and now knelt beside his open trunk, tucking away his tool bag.

  Lock was nowhere in sight. Her heart stung with the possibility that she might have frightened him.

  Grayson closed the trunk with a thump, then slid it back under the table. He rose to his feet and flipped a switch on the base of the fan. The propeller began to spin, generating a breeze that blew across her skin.

  She stared at the contraption in amazement. “That’s ingenious.”

  Grayson’s blue-gray eyes met hers for a moment before he turned back to the fan. “It’s a simple design.”

  She eyed the moving blades. “So it runs on ferromancy?”

  “Of course.” He turned the fan so that the breeze blew toward the stove, then he walked over to check his stew.

  She frowned at his back, wondering at the shortness of his answers. Was he angry?

  “No luck?” he asked.

  “Luck?” What was he—

  “Learning to be Scourge.”

  She opened her mouth, then closed it. So much for him not knowing what she was up to. “It’s not what you think,” she said.

  “It’s not?” He kept his back to her as he tended the stove. “So you’re not going to start dissolving constructs with your fiddle?”

  “Have you been spying on me?” she demanded.

  “Spying on you?”

  “Through Lock.”

  “No.”

  “Bullshit.”

  Grayson stopped stirring his stew and let the large metal spoon clank against the side of the pot. He faced her. “It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what you’re up to. Why else would you sneak off with our Scourge friends?”