Casting Souls

by Becca Andre

  He lifted his eyebrows, but he was only encouraging her to begin.

  She nodded and brought the fiddle to her chin.

  Starting with a few simple scales, she began to play, loosening her fingers, but also attempting to get in the right frame of mind. She thought about how she healed people and decided to approach this the same way.

  The scales morphed into a song, but instead of health and healing, she envisioned stopping the metal—

  She missed a note. No, that wasn’t right. The metal was already part of them. It wasn’t that their skin turned to metal, it was that the skin receded, exposing the metal beneath. She learned that from Esme’s journals.

  “I don’t feel anything,” Felipe said.

  Grayson shushed him. “She’s attempting to puzzle this out. Give her a moment.”

  She tried to ignore them, struggling to do just what Grayson suggested. She recalled what she’d read in the journals, going over it in her mind. The body’s actual structure changes. Bone, tendon, muscle, and eventually, organs turn to metal. The blood stops circulating through them, until only the brain and the eyes remain. That had been Farran.

  Briar? Grayson’s mental probe pulled her back.

  Just thinking. How did she stop this process? Clearly, it could be stopped. Solon was living proof, and perhaps, Orson as well.

  She changed the tune she was playing, reaching out to both Grayson and Felipe. She closed her eyes. If she allowed her music to be a conduit—

  Felipe gasped. “I feel… something,” he whispered.

  Was it working? Maybe she didn’t need to know how this worked. She just needed to know that it was possible. That Grayson had the ability.

  She fed more energy into her song, and her musical link between the two men grew. And the best part—if this worked—was that she didn’t have to share her soul.

  “I think it’s working,” Felipe said.

  Grayson? she prompted, though she continued her song. Are you all right?

  He didn’t respond.

  She opened her eyes at the same moment her wrist was seized.

  “Stop,” Solon commanded, pulling her bow from the strings with his grip on her wrist.

  His interference could have angered her had her gaze not fallen on Grayson. He stood with his head bowed, dorsal spines out and wings unfolding as she watched.

  He lifted his head as the last note died out, his alien eyes meeting hers.

  She looked down and gasped. Even more of his silver collarbones had been exposed.

  “There won’t be any left for Tristan at this rate,” Solon muttered.

  She jerked her wrist from his grip and started a new song. This one just for Grayson. A song full of love, warmth, and humanity.

  “What are you doing?” Solon demanded, stepping closer. The question surprised her until she remembered that Solon had been mesmerized by her song the last time she’d brought Grayson back.

  “Calling him back.” She took another step away before he could seize her wrist again.

  “How does that work?”

  “I’m not sure, but it’s how I got him through his final casting.” She continued to play, feeding more of herself into the song.

  Grayson suddenly gasped and tipped back his head. She sensed the connection between them reawaken as the spines retracted and the wings folded away.

  He bent over and gripped his knees. Along his upper spine, the metal was even more pronounced.

  I’m back, he shared, a hint of fear just below the surface.

  She pressed a hand to her mouth as the horror of what she’d done sank in. She had forced him to share his dwindling humanity with another, and in turn, devolve. It had been completely her doing. He’d had no control of the situation and couldn’t have stopped her if he wanted to.

  Sickened, she dropped her fiddle and bow into their case. Securing the latches, she grabbed up the case and ran.

  “Briar!” Grayson called after her, but she didn’t stop.

  She fled down the back hall, barely slowing to open the door, and ran out into the night.

  Chapter 10

  For a while, Briar simply ran, but when a stitch began to burn in her side, she slowed to a jog, then a walk.

  Grayson reached out to her, reassuring her that he wasn’t upset. That he didn’t blame her—which had to be a lie. How could he not blame her? It was all her doing. Besides, in those moments before she fled, she’d felt his true reaction. She’d felt his fear.

  Not answering him, she made her way through the dark streets, walking aimlessly until she found herself at the docks. Her boat was still moored where she’d left it—had that only been this morning?—but there were no lights on board. Had everyone gone to stay with friends and family? Certainly, Molly was on board, but it would surprise her if Eli had left her here all alone.

  Briar crossed the gangplank, navigating by familiarity and moonlight. She stepped into the cargo hold and noticed that it was empty, reminding her that Perseus and Kali were gone as well.

  She crossed to her cabin door, and after a brief knock, tried the knob. The door was unlocked. She stepped inside and found the cabin was empty. Perhaps Eli’s sister had invited Molly to stay.

  The notion brought a fleeting smile to Briar’s face, but her own problems quickly overshadowed it.

  Securing the door, Briar returned her fiddle case to its shelf and took down the oil lamp. She retrieved the box of matches and a moment later, a golden glow bathed the cabin. Returning the lit lamp to its hook, Briar dropped to the bench beside the table.

  Lock left her pocket and scampered up to her shoulder for a reassuring cheek rub.

  Releasing a shaky breath, she rubbed him beneath the chin. “I hurt Grayson, Lock. I didn’t mean to, but—”

  Bracing her elbows on the table, she slumped forward and covered her face with her hands. Nothing was going as planned—not that she’d ever truly had a plan.

  Lock moaned and snuggled closer to the side of her neck. She hated to upset the little guy, but she couldn’t stop the tears. Hadn’t she cried enough today?

  The creak of the door told her that Molly had returned.

  Briar shoved herself to her feet, wiping her cheeks as she faced the door. She didn’t want Molly to see—

  It wasn’t Molly. Grayson stopped just inside the cabin, and the door swung closed behind him.

  “You didn’t knock,” she said, more as an excuse for being caught wallowing than a reprimand.

  “I’m sorry, but Lock told me it was just you in here alone.”

  Of course he did. She glanced over at the little dragon sitting on her shoulder, and he offered an apologetic whirr.

  “You’re forgiven,” she whispered to him. She could never be upset with Lock.

  A happy scrape of metal on metal, and Lock hopped down to the table.

  “Briar.” Grayson took a step closer, then stopped, looking uncertain. “I’m not upset. It wasn’t your fault.”

  “Not my fault?”

  “The outcome was not your intention.” He had pulled on his shirt, but that was all. It hung untucked over his pants. She was grateful. She didn’t want to see all that new metal.

  “Stopping Felipe’s devolvement was my intention,” she said.

  “You know what I mean.” He closed the distance between them and reached up to brush her cheek. “You did manage to channel my power.”

  She turned her face away and closed her eyes, the movement forcing a pair of hot tears to roll down her face.

  “Don’t cry,” he whispered. “You knew this would be the outcome.”

  “No.” She looked up at him. “This was not how it was supposed to work. I’m supposed to stop the others’ devolvement without harming you. That’s the goal.”

  He smiled. “There’s the fire.”

 
; “Don’t tease me.”

  “Who’s teasing? You inspire me, Briar. You never stop fighting.”

  “Because I don’t have the sense to stop. I made you devolve. How can that please you?”

  “This has never been done before. No one with your talent has ever existed.” He brushed her cheek again. “We’re not going to get this right on the first attempt.”

  “Then what? I just keep trying until I get it right—or you devolve completely? That’s not an acceptable solution.”

  “No, but you made progress. I don’t want you to give up.”

  Did he think that’s what she was doing? Maybe it seemed that way when she fled to her boat.

  “I’m not quitting,” she reassured him. “But no more live experiments. Solon and his gala can kiss my ass.”

  “I believe it’s your knee he fears.” The corner of Grayson’s mouth twisted upward.

  Her cheeks warmed, but she tried to ignore it. “He should.”

  The lamp light twinkled in Grayson’s blue-gray eyes. “Ferromancer’s bane,” he whispered.

  “Savior, bane—in your case, they’re one and the same.”

  “For me, you’re neither.”

  She frowned, not following that.

  Instead of explaining, he shared what he felt. She was simply the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with—be it years, or days.

  But I scared you. I felt it, she insisted.

  Yes, I was afraid, but not of you. I feared disappointing you.

  “What?” she whispered.

  “I was afraid of how you would react. You don’t take defeat well.” He smiled. “Be it a fist fight or a poker match.”

  “Grayson,” she complained. “Do be serious.”

  “I am. You don’t like to lose.” He ran his thumb along her jaw, stopping beneath her chin. “I’m counting on that.” He leaned down and kissed her.

  She wanted to push him away and make him see that this hadn’t been a victory. But she also wanted to pull him closer and drown in his desire, reminding herself that he was still very human.

  Very, very human. He pulled her against him.

  She sighed against his lips. She was simply incapable of not sharing at moments like this.

  No complaints here, he reassured her, continuing the kiss. I miss you when you hold herself apart from me.

  Really?

  “Mm-hmm.”

  She slipped her hands beneath his untucked shirt to touch the bare skin of his stomach.

  He groaned, and she debated whether to have him remove his shirt entirely. Maybe if she extinguished the lamp first. Then she wouldn’t have to see the newly exposed metal.

  Breaking the kiss, he leaned back to look her in the eye. “Ouch. You used to admire me without a shirt.”

  “I still do,” she whispered. “But…”

  “I guess we’re even then.” He touched the hollow of her throat and dragged his finger downward, stopping at the first secured button, his finger resting just a hair’s breadth above her scar.

  “Grayson.”

  He took the finger from her chest and pressed it to her lips. His eyes held hers for a moment, then he lifted them to look up at the lamp. An instant later, the light vanished. He’d lowered the wick via the iron wheel, extinguishing the light.

  Taking a step back, he gripped the hem of his shirt and pulled it off over his head. Wordlessly, he let the garment fall to the floor.

  She swallowed, then started on her waistcoat buttons. He watched her, saying nothing until she discarded her waistcoat and reached for the top button on her shirt.

  He caught her hands. “I see far too well in low light.”

  She frowned. Was he going to insist that she let him heal the scar Owens had left on her? The scar she’d forced Grayson to leave so that she would never forget the evil a ferromancer and his soulless were capable of.

  Keeping one of her hands in his, he turned and pulled her toward her curtained alcove. Her private space. The one place on this crowded boat she never shared with anyone.

  He pushed aside the curtain and glanced back at her. He was asking permission. He knew what this meant.

  Though she couldn’t see as well as he could in the dimness, she looked up and met his eyes. I’ve already given you my heart, body, and soul. I suppose I can share my private place.

  She felt his smile more than she saw it.

  Fair enough, he said. I promise not to leave my drawers lying about.

  She laughed, and he pulled her into the darkness.

  The sun was just casting the eastern horizon in shades of orange and gold when Briar set the teakettle atop the warming stove. She wore her dressing gown—a garment she rarely wore on the boat, except for evenings when she and Molly would share a cup of tea after a bath.

  Outside the curtained windows, the town was still quiet. She didn’t expect any of the crew to return until after breakfast. They would most likely eat the morning meal at their respective locations, and folks who weren’t canallers tended to take their breakfast a little later in the morning.

  A creak, followed by the rustling of fabric came from her curtained alcove. Briar crossed the cabin, but stopped short of the curtain, feeling oddly shy. She pulled her dressing gown more snugly closed, then tightened the belt before slipping inside.

  Grayson sat cross-legged in the middle of her rumpled bunk, the sheet pooled strategically in his lap while leaving every other inch of skin bare. He raked a hand through his tousled dark hair, and she watched the intriguing movement of muscle beneath that bare skin. He dropped his arm and gave her a mischievous grin.

  “Seems I have a ferromancer in my bed,” she said.

  “Indeed.” He leaned forward and gripped the belt of her dressing gown, pulling her closer. “The question is: what do you intend to do with him?”

  “Mmm. I have a few ideas.”

  “A few?” A twinkle danced in his eyes as he smiled.

  She winked and let him pull her down beside him. The banter was all on the surface. Beneath, it was just like the morning after their night at the pond. It seemed they shared the same skin, the same soul.

  He agreed with her, but not in words, sensations, or images. She just knew, as if she’d thought it herself.

  Slipping a hand behind her neck, he pulled her close, and his lips lightly brushed hers. She felt what he felt, and he sensed everything she did. Sensations rippled back and forth, multiplying. She shivered and reached up to grip his shoulders to steady herself. The warm metal of his collarbones pressed into her palms.

  She pulled back and glanced down. The morning light seeped through the open curtain of her alcove, illuminating the metal she felt. Her heart clenched.

  Briar. He wanted her to close her eyes and pretend it didn’t exist.

  I don’t want to pretend. She traced her finger along the silver metal, feeling the stroke of her own finger through him. The exposed soul iron wasn’t just inanimate metal, it was as much a part of him as her own skin was part of her. If he’d brushed a finger along her collarbone, it would feel the same. Ferromancers called the soul iron within their bodies living metal, and that was a perfect description. It was alive, imbued with his soul—

  Briar stilled as that realization sank in. She sensed Grayson’s puzzlement that such an obvious thing would resound with her. To him, it just…was. But he was born with an iron soul. Hers was human. Yet here they sat, all tangled together and, it seemed, sharing one soul.

  She looked into his eyes, which looked more gray than blue in the low light. Is this how it feels when you absorb a human soul? When he created the soulless. This merging of the two?

  I would never—

  That wasn’t my question. She felt his panic and knew that she was right—in a sense.

  “Briar.”

  She
pressed a finger to his lips. “It’s all right. Just help me understand. I feel like I’m so close to something here.” An answer. Maybe The answer.

  His brow wrinkled, and she felt his apprehension. Yes, it felt just like this.

  “But it’s not me,” he insisted. “I didn’t do this. I haven’t absorbed anything. You took my construct and pulled my soul into yours. Last night, and at the pond, you…” He struggled to find the words, but there were none. He didn’t fully understand.

  “I let you in,” she said. She had dropped all her barriers, allowing them to come together, soul deep.

  “Yes.” He visibly relaxed as if he had been afraid he’d done something wrong.

  She pressed her lips together as she held his gaze. She almost had it.

  He waited, not breaking eye contact while another part of his mind noted the way the brightening sunlight caught in her green eyes, igniting those little flecks of gold.

  “And even though I instigated the connection,” she whispered, “it’s the same one that would enable you to absorb a soul.”

  Yes. He didn’t look away. Thank goodness your Scourge ancestry protects you from me.

  And just like that, she had it.

  The moment she saw it, he saw it, too.

  “Briar, no!” He tried to scoot away from her, but it made no difference. The connection wasn’t physical.

  The link had been made, and his magic lay waiting, needing only a source of power. She reached out to him, just as she did when she played. The music made it easier because it was so natural to feed her soul into a song that came from her heart. But she had taken a bit of his soul into hers when she took Lock. She didn’t need music to connect to Grayson. The link was already there, and she had even used it a few times: when she called him back during his fight with Eli, and when she healed his palms the night they were together at the pond. It had been her, or more accurately, their souls working as one.

  A golden glow lit her alcove, the light emanating from the skin running along the edge of his silver collarbones, and though she could only see the reflected light on the wall, the skin must be glowing on his back as well. The skin seemed to crawl over the exposed metal, growing from every side until it met over the bone and sealed along a golden seam.