by A. H. Lee
Tod didn’t have to think about that for more than a second. Yuli. She wasn’t at the Revels. Gods, I hope she hasn’t disappeared, too. At least Tod knew where to find her room. At least it wasn’t guarded by a possessed sorcerer.
Chapter 20
Lucy
Lucy woke in moonlit fog on wet grass beside a hedge maze. Water whispered nearby. She sat up and discovered she was a dragon. This thing—whatever it is—had to break us down into magic in order to pull us inside. Poor Jessica. I wonder if she’s even alive. Or sane. Lucy tried an experimental shift into human shape and found that she was able. That still works, at least.
She returned to her dragon form because the dragon had a better nose for magic—the only scent that mattered here. She realized, with a grimace, that she didn’t have a clear idea of Jessica’s magical signature. She’d never really been exposed to it. Jessica had never tried to use magic on her. Too polite, more’s the pity.
Lucy knew Mal’s magic, though. She’d sparred with him more times than she could remember, and she knew the taste and smell of his magic intimately—dark chocolate and seduction and decadence. He’d paced all over the ground here, trampling the grass. He’d gone into the hedge maze at multiple points. He’d attacked it in a few places, ripping up the thorns, but doing no real damage.
“Yes, yes,” muttered Lucy, “it’s all about you, isn’t it? I can’t smell anything else, and gods, I wish you wouldn’t pace so much. It’s going to take me forever to figure out which way you went.”
She crossed the clearing and ran up against something made of stone. Lucy raised her head and saw the fountain—the lazily moving black water, the silver ouroboros gleaming in the mist. She stared at it for a long beat, the tip of her golden tail twitching. She could feel its slow pull, its steady... Digestion? The eyes of the serpent seemed to laugh.
“Azrael is going to turn you inside out and break you down for parts,” Lucy informed the fountain. Then she chose what she hoped was Mal’s freshest scent trail, and glided away into the maze.
Chapter 21
Tod
Tod was relieved to learn from the housemaid assigned to Yuli that she’d not gone missing. “She’s been receiving meals in her room lately,” said the maid. “She’s not feeling her best.” Tod knew better than to ask for details. Servants took the privacy of courtiers seriously.
Tod’s duties kept him busy until after dinner. He didn’t want to attract attention, so he waited. It was after eight o’clock by the time he arrived at Yuli’s door. He’d knocked three times and was about to give up, when the door finally opened a crack.
A dark, almond-shaped eye peered out at him. The white looked a little red around the edges. “Yes?”
Tod swallowed. “Miss Yuli, I know you haven’t been feeling well, but I need to speak to you. It’s about Jessica. May I come in?”
Yuli opened the door wider. “Of course. What’s wrong?”
Tod came into the room and waited until the door shut behind him. He’d never spoken much to Yuli. She was one of those girls who came to the Shrouded Isle for the experience, but never gave her heart to it. She was no prude, but she preferred sexual adventures with political guests who would not stay or become attached to her. When it came to her peers, Mal was right that Yuli preferred to watch. Her heart belonged to someone else, and she avoided any emotional entanglements. Tod respected that. But he’d avoided her for another reason.
Yuli’s father was an inquisitor on the island next to Tod’s family seat. Inquisitors made Tod extremely nervous. If any of them ever found out what he was, he would not be able to go home again even for a visit. So he’d avoided Yuli, and that wasn’t difficult, because Yuli seemed just as happy to avoid Tod.
She stood in the middle of her beautiful suite now, wearing a pink silk dressing gown with embroidered sleeves. The color brought out the pink of her lips against her nut-brown skin. Her long hair made a dark ripple over her shoulders in the soft light.
Tod noticed a book open on her nightstand—a book he’d seen on Jessica’s nightstand last week. Of course they share books. He also noticed an abundance of tissues, both on the bed and in the trashcan, along with numerous crumpled papers that looked like letters. He changed what he’d been about to say. “Are you alright?”
Yuli gave a self-deprecatory smile. “It’s nothing. I think my boyfriend is breaking up with me, that’s all.” Her face crumpled, and she reached for a tissue with a helpless expression. “I’m sorry, I know it’s stupid. What do I expect when I volunteer to spend four years on the Shrouded Isle, huh?”
Tod wanted to put an arm around her. “I know it happens, but it’s still wretched.”
She waved her tissue. “If he would just say so instead of saying everything else… But it’s not your problem. Please tell me what’s happened to Jessica. I’ve sent her three notes in the last few days. She didn’t answer, and it sort of hurt my feelings. I know she’s busy with all her…” Yuli stumbled over her words. “With Mal. But I didn’t think she’d just ignore me.”
Tod wondered how much Yuli knew about Jessica. He knew she didn’t know that Jessica was a succubus, but the way Yuli’s eyes flicked away from his face made Tod wonder how much Yuli knew about him.
He forced himself not to ask. “Jessica has been missing since the Revels. Lord Azrael is behaving strangely. I think I need to find her, and I need something of hers to do it—blood, hair, spit, that sort of thing. You have letters she sealed with her tongue, correct?”
Tod had thought carefully about how to frame this. He waited, letting Yuli fill in the blanks. “You think Lord Azrael did something to Jessica?” She looked at him, wide-eyed. “But Jessica didn’t do anything wrong! It’s that man, Tod! Mal! He is trouble. It’s not Jessica. We have to tell Azrael…”
Jessica had mentioned Yuli’s antipathy towards Mal before. Tod wondered if Mal twigged some instinct of her inquisitor ancestry. Something that whispered, “Not human, not human, not human…” Let’s hope she doesn’t look too closely at me.
Tod held up a hand. “I don’t think it’s Mal. Although it could be. The point is, I can’t track her without a piece of her, and I don’t have anything.”
Yuli looked at him narrowly. “You’re a Loudain… Do you have magic?”
“I can track her with magic, yes,” said Tod. It wasn’t exactly a lie, although Yuli would think he meant a spell.
“Will Azrael let you use magic here? Illicit magic could get you killed, Tod.”
“I have my ways. Trust me?”
Yuli sighed. She went to her dresser and returned with several pieces of paper. She extracted the letters and held out the empty envelopes to Tod. “Can I help?”
Tod took the envelopes. “I’m afraid not. Thank you. As soon as I know anything, I’ll send you word. In the meantime, I think you should stay in here and keep telling everyone you’re sick.”
Yuli gave him a watery smile. “Are you suggesting I continue to wallow?”
“Absolutely,” said Tod. “Wallow like mad and be damned to anyone who tells you otherwise.”
Yuli laughed. She followed him to the door.
Tod had his hand on the knob when she said, quietly, “You’re the one she should have chosen.”
Tod turned to look at her. “Excuse me?”
“Mal is a creep. I know I’m not supposed to say that, and Jessica is my friend, but she should have picked you.”
Tod was not accustomed to being favorably compared to Mal, and it made him laugh helplessly for a moment. “Thank you. Jessica is not a fool, and there are…things I’m not at liberty to say. But thank you.”
Yuli nodded, looking embarrassed. Tod reached out against his better judgment and squeezed her hand. “You’ve been very helpful. I’ll be in touch.” If I survive.
Chapter 22
Lucy
Mal was not as easy to track as Lucy had hoped. He’d wandered all over the maze, which seemed to terminate in a beach if she went far enough.
Unfortunately, Mal had waded into the surf. Lucy lost his trail in the water again and again. She hoped he hadn’t been foolish enough to try swimming. Has he never been in a spirit vessel before?
Lucy grimaced. He probably hasn’t. Or he doesn’t remember.
Spirit vessels with an interior were usually a closed loop. However, most vessels included no interior at all and rarely something so extensive. This is a very strange vessel. It had deceived Azrael, Mal, and Lucy herself on close inspection.
It’s a trap, obviously. The vessel snatches demons. Then it feeds their magic back to their summoner, who is under the delusion that he’s accessing a magical artifact. It’s meant to make him destroy his own support system. A serpent eating its own tail, indeed. Well, it’s bitten off more than it could chew with me. If I can just find that panicking idiot.
Lucy wondered whether time was altered in the vessel. Minutes might pass like days. Or perhaps it only felt that way because of the endless twilit mist without changing patterns of sun, moon, or stars to mark the hours.
Lucy took to the air once, just see if the moonlight had a source. She didn’t stay up for long, however. Within two wing beats, she was completely isolated in the mist, with nothing to see either above or below. She didn’t want to lose the thread of Mal’s scent by coming down in some new part of the maze. She was even more afraid that she might accidentally sail over the water and become lost with no place to land.
Lucy was sniffing around a pile of rocks on the beach when she heard what sounded like a child weeping. She’d heard no sounds except the whisper of surf for what felt like days, and the noise—any noise—was welcome. Still, Lucy proceeded with caution. The weeping did not sound like Mal. This spirit vessel was full of oddities, and she would not put it past the maker to include monsters.
Lucy came quietly around the jumble of rock, avoiding tide pools, peering into little caves. The keening echoed and carried. At last, she spotted something like a shadow, huddled in an alcove. In the shifting light and swirling fog, Lucy couldn’t get a good look, even as she drew closer. She thought, for one moment, that the thing really was a child. Or at least that it had the shape of a child. She thought, in the next moment, that it had no shape at all. But it was certainly crying.
When she was ten paces away, Lucy gave up trying to guess and whispered, “Mal?”
The noise stopped as though cut with a knife. Lucy had just time to register his green eyes—a confusing moment when he was neither quite a cat nor quite man nor quite anything else—and then he barreled into her, human arms locking around her dragon neck. “Lucy!”
Mal was clearly out of his mind. He babbled incoherently, hiccupping sobs while he held her head too tightly for her to speak. “He threw me away, Lucy! He threw me away and made himself forget me! I don’t know what I did! Do you know what I did? And I don’t know what’s happened to Jessica. Did he make her forget me, too? I can’t stand being alone. I can’t stand it! And there’s nothing to eat, and my magic is draining away, and I’m going to die in here, and I don’t know what I did wrong!”
Lucy tried to speak, but his grip on her head was holding her jaw closed. Rather than shake him off, she changed into human form. She was instantly reminded that she didn’t have her coat. The next instant, she was essentially wearing Mal. “Calm down!” hissed Lucy. “Malcharius, calm down!”
“He doesn’t want me anymore,” whimpered Mal. “I wanted him so much I came back from the astral plane, but it only took a few weeks for him to decide he doesn’t want—”
“He is not doing this!” exclaimed Lucy, trying to talk over Mal’s wailing. “Have some faith in the man you say you love! Azrael is under an enchantment. He didn’t put you here.”
Dead silence.
Mal pulled away from Lucy, staring into her face. He blinked a few times. Lucy could see the wheels turning in his head. Very carefully, Mal let go of her shoulders and took a step back. Now he’s afraid. Which should have been his first response.
Mal’s eyes were huge and dark. “Are you going to eat me, Lucy?”
For the first time in their acquaintance, she could have. Lucy could see right through his essence in places—the faint moonlight shining through his body to the rock wall behind. The condition in which she’d found him made it obvious that he was having a hard time holding himself together in any shape. His clothes were the sort that he usually wore to bed—too thin for this weather, but he probably couldn’t summon the energy to make better ones.
Lucy thought, If I ate him and Azrael never remembered him, a lot of people would probably be better off. Aloud, she said, “I kept Jacob from banishing you a month ago, didn’t I?”
Mal said nothing. His too-bright eyes scanned her face. “Make it quick?”
Damn you. “Mal, stop being dramatic.”
He gave a jittery laugh and hugged himself. “I can’t. I’m dying. And one way or the other, Azrael doesn’t remember me. I saw him here by these rocks. He looked at me like he’d never seen me before.”
Interesting. “It’s the dreamcatcher,” said Lucy. “It’s a spirit vessel that absorbs demons. Then it makes their master forget them and believe that the dreamcatcher is a magical artifact. He takes magic from it, but he’s really taking magic from us. Since we have no way to replenish…”
“He kills us,” said Mal miserably.
“There’s more to it than that,” said Lucy. “This is a very strange spirit vessel…if that’s really what it is. It’s giving Azrael instructions to build something that’s supposed to devour the magicians who are coming to visit.”
“Have I only been gone a few days, then?” asked Mal in wonder. “It feels like years!” He stopped as he processed what Lucy had just told him. Mal’s eyes narrowed. “You came after me because of Jacob.”
“I came after you because I had no choice!” snapped Lucy. “It grabbed me, too, because my bottle was open. But it took longer to get me, and,” she added with a note of smugness, “it grabbed me from inside my bottle. A piece of me is still in there, which means I still have access to a source of magic.”
Lucy shifted back into a dragon. “I’ve spent plenty of time inside spirit vessels. This one is beyond odd. I’d like to look around a little more. There might be a way out if the designer was overambitious. There might be a flaw.” Mal perked up. Lucy turned away with a toss of her head. “Come on; we’re wasting time.”
Chapter 23
Jessica
Jessica. She said the name to herself over and over, until it was just a series of sounds. Jess… Jess… Jessica. The word didn’t mean anything. She wasn’t sure why she kept saying it. Thinking it? Was she really saying anything? Could she? Did she have a mouth? Had she ever had a mouth? What was a mouth?
She was moving through a foggy wasteland of broken machines. The place smelled like sweetness and salt and smoke and ash. Buildings sagged in the fog—gutted and fire-blackened. A brilliant red and gold banner that had once stretched across a lane now hung from a single pole, trailing in the dirt: Lady Zersic’s Land of Wonders.
Jessica sniffed at the banner. She knew all the letters, and she thought she was making them into words, but she didn’t know what the words meant. More distressingly, she didn’t know whether she should know what the words meant.
She looked up and saw a circle of metal scaffolding looming high above her in the gray sky. Images flashed through Jessica’s head: riding in something like that with her little sister, salty flavors, loud music, laughter.
Sister? She repeated that word to herself over and over. That’s a kind of person. Am I a sister?
She wandered on through the empty lanes murmuring, “Sister” and “Jessica” and once, “Mal… What is a Mal? Is that a kind of person, too?”
The world was peaceful, quiet. Jessica thought she might lie down and sleep. Or perhaps not sleep exactly. Perhaps just lie down and watch to see if anything would happen. She could be patient for a long time. Perhaps forever. She didn’t have any
where to go, anything to do, anyone to be.
Jessica was startled by a beam of light across the lane ahead. It was shockingly bright and out-of-place. Jessica moved towards it warily. The light came from the door of a building. It was gutted inside, just like the others, but unlike them, it had an opening in the floor. The light was shining up from below.
Curious, Jessica started down the steps. She didn’t like going headfirst, but she didn’t seem to have a choice. She was suddenly baffled by her own body. It was not right. She knew that. But she had no idea what “right” might be.
The basement was not large. Jessica’s nose told her that it contained mostly potatoes. Amongst the potatoes stood a narrow bed and a wide desk, covered in clutter. Two lamps burned in the room.
A person sat at the desk, hunched over a book, writing. Jessica remained on the stairs, well off the floor. She leaned into the room, sniffing. Beneath the earthy smell of the potatoes, she caught the odors of blood and salt and a sharp, astringent smell that her senses registered as magic. Her nose told her that the person was male, probably young.
He stopped writing abruptly and spoke without turning around. “Who’s there?”
Jessica cocked her head. She didn’t know how to respond or whether she should. That was a question, right? You’re supposed to answer questions.
He turned. Jessica had an impression of dark, shaggy hair and eyes that looked too big in a hollow face. He was all arms and legs as he stood up, unfolding out of the chair. “What the hell?”
Jessica tried to back up the steps. That seemed harder than it ought to be.
“What the hell?” repeated the man—the boy, really. Then he laughed. Jessica did not much like his laugh. “You must have come out in the wrong place. Interesting. Can you even understand what I’m saying?”
Jessica took another step backwards, but the boy made a motion with his hand, and the cellar door shut with a boom that made her jump. I don’t like this, I don’t like this, I don’t like this!
