Casting Souls

by Becca Andre

  “I’m not sneaking off. I’ve been working on my hand-to-hand technique in the forward hold because it is less cluttered.”

  He remained silent, but his expression made it clear that he didn’t believe her.

  “All right. Fine. I’ve been trying to learn more about the other side of my magic, but I’m only doing this as a precaution. If I fail to save Solon’s son, I’m going to need a way to stop him from destroying my hometown.”

  “I’ll take care of Solon—if it comes to that.”

  “Solon isn’t alone. We could be talking about dozens of ferromancers. That’s why I’m learning to use my Scourge magic.”

  “You can be honest with me. I do understand.”

  She frowned. “I’m telling the truth. My primary goal is still to save you, and the others. If I fail—”

  “That was never a concern before you…saw what I really am.”

  “That isn’t true.”

  “You’ve avoided me the past two days. This is the first private conversation we’ve had since…” He let the sentence hang, but she didn’t need him to finish. She knew he referred to the horror she’d experienced in Newark. When Grayson created his first soulless.

  “Never mind.” He turned back to his stew. “Lock is in your alcove.”

  She gave him a frown he didn’t see and crossed to the curtain that partitioned her bunk from the rest of the cabin. Pushing back the curtain to let some light into the windowless space, she looked around. Lock wasn’t on the bed or any of the shelves that lined the walls.

  “Lock? Please come out. I would never let anyone hurt you.”

  Her pillow wiggled, and a moment later, the little dragon crawled out. He gazed up at her with worried eyes.

  She walked over and sat down on the edge of the bed, then rubbed him beneath the chin. “I love you, Lock.”

  He leaned into the caress.

  “But some ferromancers have to be stopped before they hurt other people. We were just discussing ways to do that.”

  He gazed up at her, emitting a soft whirr.

  “You know that a construct is part of the ferromancer who made him. If he goes bad, well…”

  Lock sat up straighter, and she sensed alarm. He was remembering what had happened in Newark, when Grayson went bad.

  “No,” she whispered. “He just lost control. Everything’s fine now.”

  A doubtful whirr followed. He had also noticed how distant she and Grayson had become. It always upset him when she and Grayson didn’t get along. Not that they were actively arguing, but a silent rift had grown between them.

  She looked through the curtained doorway into the cabin. She couldn’t see Grayson, but the sound of the spoon clanking against the pot carried to her.

  Lock gave her a nudge.

  “All right,” she relented. “I’ll talk to him.” She got to her feet, and Lock sprang up onto her shoulder. Stepping out into the cabin, she hesitated.

  Grayson looked up from his stew pot but didn’t speak.

  “Lock thinks I’m mad at you.”

  “I know.”

  She was about to question why he hadn’t set Lock straight, then realized that Lock wasn’t the only one who felt that way.

  “You think I’m mad at you, too,” she said.

  “Mad, no.” He looked away. “I figure it’s closer to disgusted—not that you share what you feel anymore.”

  “Did you forget that I forgave you?”

  “That was then.” He kept his eyes averted. “This is now.” He took a breath as if to brace himself. “You feel it, don’t you?”

  “Feel what?”

  “My…soulless.”

  “Darby?”

  Grayson nodded.

  “What do you mean, feel him?”

  “Here.” Grayson touched his temple. “Similar to how I feel Lock, just not as pure.”

  Lock emitted a grating sound of metal on metal. He didn’t care for the comparison.

  “I’m with Lock. That was a rude comparison.”

  “Don’t make jokes. I’m serious. He’s part of me—or more accurately, I’m part of him.”

  Briar schooled her expression to hide how much that bothered her. “Because it’s your soul iron in him.”

  “My living soul iron.”

  Briar frowned. Despite what he claimed, he had definitely been eavesdropping on her conversation with Liam.

  “And you sense him in me,” Grayson continued. “A man you despise. That’s why you’ve kept your distance from me.”

  “That isn’t true. Yes, I’ve been a bit withdrawn, but it has nothing to do with any bad feelings toward you, or whatever you think I sense with Darby.” She moved closer. “I wasn’t sure what you’d think of my learning to use my Scourge magic. Though I guess I made it worse by remaining silent.”

  “I have no problem with you learning to use that side of your magic. I’m all for it if it’ll keep you safe from the monsters. Even if that monster is me.”

  “That’s not—”

  “If you deny it, you’re not being honest with yourself.”

  She held his gaze. “You are mine, Grayson Martel. You are my heart and my responsibility. I fully accept both.”

  “Briar,” he whispered, all his misery wrapped up in a single word.

  “Stop this. I forgave you. I meant it then, and I mean it now.”

  She walked to him and laid a hand over his heart. Looking up, she prepared to tell him she loved him, but closed her eyes instead. Reaching out, she shared her feelings. How she longed for a solution to their problems, so they could have a chance at a life together.

  A surge of love and longing washed over her, wrapped in worry and shame. She might have forgiven him, but he hadn’t forgiven himself.

  “Grayson.” She slipped her arms around his waist and hugged him, her head resting on his shoulder. “I love you and forgive you. Can’t you feel it in me?”

  “Yes,” he whispered, hugging her just as tight. “But…”

  “No buts.”

  A thump echoed through the boat, and she pulled back in surprise.

  Grayson frowned. “Eli doesn’t normally bump the walls.”

  Then she remembered. “He had Molly try her hand at steering.”

  Grayson’s focus returned to her and she caught a hint of a smile. Briar was so pleased to see the smile, that she didn’t care if the bump had put a hole in her boat.

  A lighter thump carried from the cargo hold, followed by the sound of rapid footfalls. Someone had dropped into the cargo hold and was hurrying toward her door.

  “Oh no.” Briar grimaced. “I hope Molly didn’t damage the boat. She’ll be devastated.”

  “I can fix it.” Grayson released her.

  She started for the door.

  “Briar, wait!” Grayson seized her shoulder and pulled her back.

  “Wh—” She didn’t get to finish her question as the door banged open. A man she didn’t know stood on the threshold. Before she could ask what he wanted, he lifted his hand to display the revolver he held.

  The man looked pleased as he trained the gun on them. “Look what I found.” His gaze settled on Lock who still sat on Briar’s shoulder. “The missing drake.”

  Chapter 2

  Briar’s heart pounded as she stared at the man holding the gun. If he recognized Grayson, he was either Scourge or a ferromancer. Judging by the knives in his belt and boot top, she was going with Scourge.

  “Lock, be the necklace,” she whispered. A tingle enveloped her throat as Lock complied.

  The man frowned, but didn’t get to comment as more footfalls echoed in the hold.

  “Jack!” an unfamiliar voice shouted. Had this man—Jack?—brought friends? “Look out!” the same voice added.

  Suddenly, Perseus appeared
behind the man and jerked him back into the hold.

  She rushed to the shelf above the table and took down her fiddle. She intended to open it and take out the instrument, but Grayson was already stepping through the open door.

  “Damn it,” she muttered. Taking her fiddle, case and all, she followed Grayson into the cargo hold. She arrived just as Perseus disarmed the other fellow. The revolver went flying over the side of the boat, clattering off the top of the stone wall of the filled lock chamber.

  The man pulled a large knife from his belt, glancing at Grayson before addressing Perseus. “What the hell are you doing? We kill him, we demoralize the rest of them before the fight begins.”

  Briar frowned. It sounded like this guy knew about the gala.

  “I cannot allow you to harm him,” Perseus answered, his tone cool.

  Movement drew Briar’s attention to both sides of the boat. On the port side, a half dozen well-armed men stood atop the lock wall. While her crew, along with Kali and Liam, watched from the starboard side.

  “Jack, stop,” one of the strangers called. “Don’t you know who that is?”

  “Some misguided sap who hasn’t the sense to break free of his mistress?” Jack sneered at Perseus.

  “That’s Perseus,” Jack’s friend supplied.

  “Yeah, right.” Jack laughed. It wasn’t a pleasant sound. “I’m not so gullible as to fall for that fairy tale.” Without warning, he sprang.

  Briar tensed, squeezing the handle of her fiddle case. She wasn’t truly worried for Perseus, but she hadn’t expected that kind of speed. No wonder Jack was such a mouthy bastard. He was ferromancer-fast. Then too, so was Perseus.

  At the last moment, Perseus stepped back, avoiding the wicked slash to his stomach.

  If Jack was surprised, it didn’t register. He struck again with the speed of a striking snake, and once again, Perseus eluded him.

  “Aren’t you going to fight back?” Jack demanded.

  “If you like.” Perseus’s tone was pleasant, if a little cool.

  Briar didn’t see Perseus start to move. It seemed she’d blinked and he had already closed with Jack. An instant later, Jack’s knife clattered to the deck. There was an exchange of blows almost too fast to follow, then Jack stumbled back, blood gushing from his nose.

  Jack glared at Perseus, who had relaxed his stance as if expecting that to be the end of it. Perseus was obviously the better fighter.

  Without warning, Jack pulled a small knife from his belt, and in the same motion, hurled it at Perseus.

  Briar glimpsed the surprise on Perseus’s face, but it was all the reaction he had time for. He was too close to get out of the line of fire.

  Kali gasped as the knife sliced into Perseus’s abdomen.

  Silence fell over those gathered around them. Even Jack looked astonished. Did he feel remorse, or was he just surprised by his success?

  Without comment, Perseus gripped the knife handle and jerked the blade from his stomach. Blood immediately bloomed around the hole in his white shirt.

  “See?” Jack seemed to regain his bravado. “He bleeds. I told you. Perseus is a fairy tale. Besides, this guy’s Greek accent was terrible.”

  Briar frowned. If Jack truly believed that Perseus was just some guy, he showed a distinct lack of respect for the man he’d just stabbed. No matter how mad he got, Eli never belittled a fallen foe and often helped them up after the fight was over.

  Maintaining his silence, Perseus tugged his shirttail from his pants and lifted it to reveal the bleeding puncture wound in his stomach.

  Briar flinched at the gory sight.

  “Yes, I bleed,” Perseus told Jack. “And I feel pain.” A muscle tensed in his jaw. “Asshole.”

  Even expecting it, Briar stared in wonder as a golden glow began to emanate from the depths of the wound. The glow intensified, and all but her crew gasped as it grew more visible. The golden light moved toward the surface, the wound closing behind it, shrinking steadily to a puckered scar. With one final burst of light, it vanished, leaving no trace of the injury on Perseus’s unblemished olive skin.

  Perseus dropped his shirt and lifted the knife. Purple lightning ignited along the blood-slicked blade. “Shall we continue?”

  “Enough,” Liam cut in. “Not to deny you your due, Perseus, but I would prefer to let him live.”

  The lightning vanished as Perseus lowered the blade. “Are you certain?”

  “He seems an able fighter—if that mouth can be tamed.”

  “Who are you?” Jack demanded, his bravado returning now that Perseus no longer held the knife on him.

  “The name is Liam McAdams. I suppose you believe my reputation a fairy tale as well?”

  “Reputation? All you had was the patronage of a powerful ferra.” Jack lifted his chin, challenging Liam to contradict him.

  “Is that what you believe?” A bitter smile twisted Liam’s mouth.

  “It’s common knowledge that you whored yourself to her—or was it the other way around?”

  Liam pushed back his coat and gripped the handle of the knife he wore. “Careful.”

  Jack smiled. “Did I get too close to the truth?”

  “You seem to be lacking some facts,” Liam said. “The Scourge is a recent development. Hunting ferromancers wasn’t my original calling.”

  “Is that meant to frighten me?” Jack sneered. “Sorry, old man. Your exploits between the sheets with some ferra doesn’t scare me—it disgusts me.”

  Liam jerked his knife from his belt. Violet arcs of lightning ignited along the soul-iron blade, but they didn’t remain that way. Gradually, the color seemed to leak away until the lightning was silver-white.

  Jack took a step back.

  “Better run,” Liam said softly.

  Jack spun away and lunged toward the gangplank. He took about three steps before Liam was on him, moving with a speed that shocked Briar. Her elderly-seeming godfather looked anything but elderly when he took Jack to the deck.

  Briar thought he only intended to frighten the man, so when Liam buried the knife in Jack’s back, she gasped.

  Jack threw back his head and opened his mouth, but no sound emerged. He thrashed a moment in eerie silence, then went still.

  Frogs croaked along the canal and cicadas chittered from the trees, but otherwise, all was silent.

  Briar closed her open mouth. Yes, Jack had been a loud-mouthed troublemaker, but killing him seemed a little extreme for a few crude insults. Liam must have been very fond of the ferra he had slandered.

  Liam pushed off Jack’s unmoving body and climbed to his feet. “If any of the rest of you feel as he does, speak now.”

  A beat of silence answered him, then a tall fellow cleared his throat. “Jack was an unruly hothead, but good in a fight. That’s the only reason we brought him along.”

  Liam eyed the larger man for a moment, and Briar feared Liam might attack him as well. “Indeed,” Liam said at last. “I asked those I had contacted to gather in Waverly. We were on our way there.”

  “That’s where we were headed,” the same man responded.

  “And you are?”

  “Gordon. Miles Gordon.”

  Liam nodded. “What stronghold do you hail from, Gordon?”

  “Captain?” Jimmy moved to her side, followed by the rest of her crew.

  Briar faced them as Liam and his new friend discussed their respective origins.

  “What’s going on, Miss Briar?” Eli asked, eyeing the small crowd of armed men standing a short distance away.

  “These are friends of Liam’s,” she explained. Or perhaps, friends of friends. Word must have spread.

  “Scourge?”

  “Yes. Liam contacted them about the situation in Portsmouth. I guess there are more gathering in Waverly.”

  “More Scourge?�
�� Jimmy perked up. “That’s good, right? They won’t let those ferromancers get out of hand even if we’re late.”

  “We won’t be late,” she said.

  “Not through any failing on our part,” Jimmy agreed. “But it don’t hurt to have help.”

  “I suppose.” She glanced at Grayson, but he was watching Liam.

  “We were looking into a rumor north of here,” Gordon was telling Liam.

  “What kind of rumor?” Liam asked.

  “The tale of a man killed by a metal monster.”

  Liam stood straighter. “Find out anything?”

  “I interviewed the lone witness—who did admit to being inebriated at the time. But after meeting with the undertaker, I am inclined to believe it was indeed a construct.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “This.” Gordon pulled something from his coat pocket. At first, Briar thought it was a small silver knife, but as he turned it in his hand, she saw that the blade was curved.

  “Is that a claw?” Liam asked.

  “It appears to be.” Gordon handed it to him.

  “Huh.” Liam examined it a moment, turning it in his hands.

  I thought constructs were indestructible, Briar directed at Grayson.

  Mine is. Perhaps that isn’t so with a weaker talent. Your godfather doesn’t seem overly surprised, and he should know about such things. There was a sense of chagrin with the comment, as if Grayson was embarrassed to know less about his kind than Liam.

  Liam returned the claw to Gordon. “Any idea what became of the ferromancer—assuming there was one?”

  “We found nothing. It was a small town, and we searched it thoroughly. Believing it likely that this ferromancer was heading south to meet with the others, we traveled on.”

  “What kind of construct was it?” Briar spoke up. “Did the witness say?”

  A faint frown shadowed Gordon’s hazel eyes as his gaze dropped to her throat. He had noticed her necklace.

  “My goddaughter,” Liam said by way of introduction.

  Gordon continued to study her, then finally answered. “The witness said it was too dark to see properly, but it was big, had claws, and pounced on him from above.”

  Could it have been a lion? Solon was traveling south, but he should be well ahead of them.