by Lynn Viehl
“He couldn’t. The metal alone would have turned his blood septic.” Dez used the back of his hand to wipe the sweat from his upper lip. “It weren’t put inside him. Look at the skin on the legs. There’s not a single surgical scar.”
Docket nodded. “And there was no swallowing it, unless it was in bits, and then once inside it all would still have to be fitted together. Although if you did use long probes through some of the other body cavities—”
I recoiled. “Doc.”
“The shafts have welds at the joints. You can’t weld a man together from the inside or out.” Dez tossed down the knife and covered up the body. “I’ve shown you the bodies, Miss Kit. Now you tell me what you saw.”
He listened as I repeated what I had told Doyle. Unlike the inspector, he stopped me to ask very specific questions about the Wolfmen’s anatomy. I described everything as best I could, and then lapsed into silence.
The dripping into the basin slowed to a stop before Dez looked over at Docket. “You still on the outs with the city’s guild master?”
“I can get a word to him.” Docket eyed the shrouded bodies. “No names in the report, Dez. Once the details get out I expect Bonnie to be all over this.”
They were talking over my head, and I didn’t like it. “Would you mind explaining to me what you’re saying, because I can’t make it out.”
“Take her back now, mate. Good night, Miss Kit.” Dez turned on his heel and left.
As Docket wheeled me out of the room I craned my head up to look at his grim expression. “What was all that about the guild master and no names? Who is this blasted Bonnie?”
“I have to tell the master of the city’s magic guild about the mech inside these Wolfmen,” Docket said slowly. “He’ll know if one of his animech mages has wits and the power to have put it inside them. I asked Dez to keep our names out of his report because if he doesn’t, you and I will be summoned by Bonnie—the Bureau of Native Affairs—to be questioned during the tribal inquest.”
As he stopped at the lift I sat back. “I still don’t understand. How could a mage put mech inside men that turns them into beasts, and why would the natives be involved?”
“The mech inside those poor blighters made them strong, and the only way it could have been put there was by the dark arts,” he said. “But another kind of magic was used, too. The kind that turns men into beasts, Kit. The kind of magic only native shamans know how to use.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
My surreptitious trip to the morgue earned me a sound scolding from the ward sister once she’d ordered Docket to leave the facility and return only when he’d regained his sanity. I meekly accepted every stern word as she checked my bandages and helped me into bed.
I would have apologized, too, but my temporary escape had left me exhausted, and I fell asleep just as the sister was trying to decide if she should put me in restraints or have me transferred to the local loony bin where she suspected the rest of my relations surely must be residing.
I had troubling dreams of wolves turning into men, and men turning into animech beasts.
I woke briefly when they brought luncheon, some of which a much kinder nurse helped me eat, and then slept through a visit from the physick and the remainder of the day.
I felt much better in body than in spirit when I finally woke and saw Rina dozing in the bedside chair. She was wearing a brand-new gown, of course (Rina had long ago resolved never to wear the same garment twice, and earned more than enough from her pleasure palace to keep that vow), but the prudish style of it was no more Rina than the size of her new and somewhat pendulous bosom. The staid lace cap and heavily silvered brown wig concealing her angelic golden hair and most of her face completed the costume, and utterly perplexed me.
“Stop staring at me,” she muttered without opening her eyes. “It was the only way I could get in to see you.”
“By dressing like my grandmother?” I lifted my head to peer at the top of her ensemble. “What on earth did you put inside your bodice?”
“I had to be a convincing old lady, didn’t I?” She took off the hat, extracted some strategically placed hair grips, and slid off the wig. “Mary Mother, this itches. I hope I never go bald.” She regarded me as she drew off her gloves. “You’re the heroine of the hour, or so I hear. Fighting off hordes of monsters in the streets to protect helpless women and innocent babies, are we? What was it, a slow day at the office, or did you just get bored with breathing again?”
“There were only two monsters,” I admitted, “and they did the fighting. I was busy crashing into crates and walls and having hysterics.”
She nodded, her expression satisfied. “That sounds more like it. I won’t ask you why you were such an idiot as to go after two Wolfmen by yourself because then you’ll tell me and I’ll want to finish the job.”
“The part about saving the women and children was true,” I offered meekly.
“Twit.” She slapped her gloves against the edge of my bed. “Bloody stupid mule-headed reckless thoughtless blundering cow.”
“Come on, Rina, I can’t be a mule-headed cow—”
“Shut up.” She rose and began pacing. “I don’t need a friend like you. I’ve never needed you. I’m the richest woman in the province, aren’t I? Nearly a hundred gels working for me, and there are twice as many men—some of them bloody important—who would kill for me. Cheerfully. Do you know, I could sell the business tomorrow, buy myself an island, build a bloody grand mansion on it, and have a herd of handsome strapping young chaps feed me grapes and rub my feet for the next fifty years? But no, I’m dressing up like a granny and sneaking past the good sisters to see my friend Kit, the mule-headed cow.” She faced me and put her hands on her hips. “Don’t you grin at me like that. I stuffed two butternut squashes in me bodice for you.”
I wisely swallowed a laugh. “And I can never adequately express my gratitude, Carina. Now come and sit down.”
She glared at me for a long moment before she plopped onto the side of the bed next to me. “So they knocked you about, then? That was all?”
“Cut up my back and bottom.” The relief on her face made me ask, “Why were you worried there was more?”
“Felicity and Janice, a couple of my gels, went out for a house call last night. They were coming back when they met up with one of your monsters. It got them both before they could blink. Dragged them into the bushes, knocked them on their backs, bit them and tore at their clothes some, but it didn’t kill them.” She met my gaze. “Or the woman they saw it catch after it was done with them.”
A memory of the Wolfman tearing at my skirts came back to me. “You mean it raped them?”
“Aye.”
The horror of what her gels must have suffered—what I’d almost endured—made bile rise in my throat. “Oh, Rina. I’m sorry.”
“So you should be. I was thinking the same had been done to you.” She rested her hand on my brow for a moment. “Felicity’s only been in the game two years, and she’s still too terrified to make a peep, but Janice, she’s been on the stroll since before you or me made our first wail. She told me everything.” Her expression darkened. “Janice couldn’t see much, it being dark and her skirts in her face, but she said while he were at her she heard gears turning, and some kind of ticking. As if he were carrying a clock.”
Or had one inside his chest. “Did she notice anything else?”
“Janice had enough sense left to try to talk her way out of it. It never spoke or stopped once, not even when she grabbed a branch to cosh it in the head. Once it was done with her she tried to drag it back from Felicity, but she couldn’t budge it. She said it weighed as much as three men.”
That also sounded right. “Did you bring the gels here?”
“To this house of prudes? Not on your life. I have a physick who comes round the Nest when he’s needed; he’s looking after them now.” She tucked my blanket round me. “So how long are the sisters keeping you from your next act of bre
athtaking idiocy?”
“The city should be safe for a few more days.” I heard footsteps out in the corridor and reached for her wig and hat, handing them to her. “Did Wrecker drive you here?”
“He did, and he’s waiting outside for me.” She put on the rest of her disguise and grimaced. “Oh, and I ferreted out the name of that club your old ponce Bestly founded. It’s called the White Lupine, and you’re not to go anywhere near it.”
I frowned. “Why not?”
“Aside from the fact that it’s a gentlemen’s club and they wouldn’t let you stand on the stoop,” she said, “it’s cross the street from the park where that Wolfman got my gels.”
“A park.” I searched through my memory. “Not Rosings Park.”
“That’s it.” She eyed me. “How did you know?”
• • •
Although I trusted Rina, I didn’t confide to her that Lord Bestly had died after his transformation into a Wolfman. As fiercely protective as she was of her gels, and women in general, she’d want to know more than I could tell her. The fact that both Dez and Docket believed native magic was involved also troubled me.
Over time Torians and the tribes had learned to tolerate each other, and had come to many useful compromises in order to coexist, yet each side remained very suspicious of the other. If any rumor got out that the Wolfmen were the result of native magic I felt sure the city would turn on the shamans.
No Torian cared for the native mages and their strange blood rituals, but among their tribes the shamans were deeply respected and held in high esteem as holy men. If they were blamed for the Wolfmen, their people would be outraged. It was that sort of ignorance and mutual hostility that had resulted in the horrid massacres of Rumsen settlers and the tribal villages seventy years ago, during the old native wars.
I still felt sick over what Rina had told me about the attacks, but when a new sister brought in my dinner I forced myself to eat. This was no time to languish weakly in a hospital bed; I had to heal and get out of here. After praising me for my efforts the sister went to change my bandages but decided against replacing them.
“Your wounds are all closed, Miss Kittredge. I can hardly make out some of them.” She helped me into a clean gown. “I’m sure Mr. Brecourt will be very pleased when he comes in the morning.”
She didn’t sound uneasy, and when I glanced at her face I saw no fear or disapproval like the other nurse had demonstrated. “You don’t think it’s odd, my rapid healing?”
“Not at all. You’re spirit-born.” She bundled up my old gown, saw my expression, and suppressed a chuckle. “You didn’t think you were the only one, surely?”
“No, but I’ve never heard anyone talk openly about it.” Suddenly I realized why she knew. “You’re the same.”
“Me, me brothers and sisters, and me mum.” She glanced at the door before she said, “It’s a family matter, so we don’t blurt it out to just anyone. You’ve likely found out already that most magic folk don’t care for our kind. If they get wise to you, they can be very unpleasant.”
I thought of Gert. “Why do they hate us so much?”
“Jealousy, I expect,” the nurse said, her tone wry. “We’re born magical, miss, and they’re not. Folk in the mage trade, they have to be taught spells and how to work the stones and such, but they’ve no power of their own to use. Can’t stand it that they’re limited when we’re not.”
The thought of having magical power had done nothing but annoy me, but now I was intrigued. “How are we . . . so unlimited?”
“Why, because our magic is natural to us, like breathing is. Even when I was a baby, if someone who was in pain held me in their arms, the hurt went away. That’s why I became a nurse.” She gave me a sympathetic look. “I tried to help you last night when you were brought in, but as soon as I touched you I knew it wouldn’t work. I could feel my magic coming back to me, like it bounced off you.”
“It did.”
Her eyes widened, but before she could say any more the ward sister came in. “Sister James, you’re needed in Miss Percher’s room now.”
“Yes, Sister Bailey.” The younger nurse gave me a quick smile before she trotted out.
The ward nurse came to the foot of my bed and inspected me. “Your color is better, Miss Kittredge. I expect the visit by your dear grandmother”—she gave the last word deliberate emphasis—“lifted your spirits.”
“It did.” I squirmed a little. “And I do feel much improved, Sister.”
“So that nothing impairs this remarkable recovery, I am putting you on strict bed rest until you are released. That means, Miss Kittredge, that you are not to take a turn in the hallways, or ride the lift down to the morgue, or do anything besides remain in this bed.” She tapped the foot railing. “Is that clear?”
I sank back on the pillows and pulled my blankets up to my chin. “Completely, Sister.”
“Excellent. I bid you good night.” She turned down the bedside lamp and marched out.
“She’s very good at that.” Light filtered through the shadows, forming itself into a brightly glowing version of my grandfather. “Comes from her past life as a general. Conquered most of Europe, as I recall.”
“Harry.” I threw a pillow at his head, which passed through him and thumped against the wall. “I’ve been summoning you since dawn. Where have you been?”
“Having tea with the queen. She sends her regards.” He took on solid form and settled into the wheeled chair, which he rolled round the bed. “I say, I do like this contraption. In my day one only got about in procession litters carried by slaves. Very bumpy.” He peered at me. “What?”
I’d have thrown another pillow but that would leave me with none to smother myself with. “Oh, nothing at all. Someone sent a bomb to my office, and then I was attacked in the street and nearly killed last night, but you needn’t worry.”
His expression turned indignant. “And who do you think led that second beastie into the alley? Father Christmas?”
“You brought the second Wolfman after me. Of course you did.” I closed my eyes. “Harry, I am mortal. I can be killed. You do remember this?”
“I saw the first one going after you and lured the second there so they’d fight over you like the animals they are. Without a body, it was all I could do to save you.” He sighed heavily. “Once they’d done each other in, I intended to materialize and comfort you—as much as I could in spirit form—but then the beaters came, and you fainted, and I thought I’d be more useful tracking those two dogs.”
“Those two dogs were dead,” I pointed out. “They didn’t go anywhere.”
“When bodies die, spirits cross over,” he reminded me. “I went to the Netherside to find them and have a word, but they weren’t there.”
“What does that mean?” I demanded. “They didn’t have spirits?”
“They did, but they did not cross over to the Netherside,” he said. “Before they were meddled with, your Wolfmen were ordinary mortals. Your lot goes elsewhere, and no, I don’t know where. I’m not mortal.”
“If magic turned them into Wolfmen, being near me should have broken the spell at once. It didn’t. They had to be possessed. There’s no other way they could have survived having the mech installed in their bodies. Or is there?”
Harry’s brow furrowed. “They might have been killed first, meddled with, and then their bodies reanimated for a short time. Revenants are slow, mindless things, but the mech might have given them speed and purpose.”
I thought of the footman. “How long does it take to work that kind of magic?”
“I may have helped myself to a dying body or two, but I’ll have you know that I’ve never killed a mortal.” He sniffed. “It’s not sporting.”
I felt impatient. “Very well. How long would it take an Aramanthan who doesn’t have your scruples to work the revenant spell?”
“The body has to be cured or it turns rotten and starts to fall apart, and then there’s gathering everyth
ing for the ritual and finding the place for the altar . . .” He trailed off as he counted out something on his fingers. “It could be done in three months. Two, if they hurried and didn’t care what the body looked like.”
“Then they’re not revenants,” I said. “I saw one of the Wolfmen earlier that morning, and he wasn’t dead or meddled with yet.”
“It was not a revenant spell.”
The deep voice made me jump and Harry scowl. “Dredmore.” I looked over and spotted him standing by the window. “How did you get in here?”
“I climbed.” He shut the window and regarded Harry. “Hello, Ehrich. How good of you to keep watch over Charmian. Perhaps if you’d done so yesterday, she wouldn’t be here.”
Harry glowered. “As it happens I was looking after her last night, unlike some evil conniving bastards who don’t give a jot about anyone but themselves and amassing power they can’t control and tossing it about to destroy the world.”
Dredmore inclined his head. “I must bow to your authority on such matters.”
“Charm, I lied,” Harry said flatly. “I am going to kill a mortal. Be a love and close your eyes for a minute.”
“This perpetual squabbling between you two is becoming exceptionally tedious.” That got their attention. “Harry, we have to know who is responsible for creating these Wolfmen, and the night isn’t getting any longer. You should go and see what you can find out about the mage behind these beasts before dawn sends you back to the Netherside.”
“I can’t leave you alone with him,” my grandfather protested. “Think of your reputation, my gel.”
“I haven’t got one. Now go on.” Once he dematerialized I turned to Dredmore. “Do you think it wise to continue baiting my grandfather the way you do? He is Merlin, remember. Greatest mage in the history of the world?”
“He was Merlin,” Dredmore corrected. “Now he’s mostly a blustering old fool interested only in creating chaos and dropping you in the middle of it.”
I threw up my hands. “For pity’s sake, Lucien, he’s my grandfather, and the only family I have left in the world.”
