Chapter Nineteen
Nikolas’s eyes narrowed. “But the house isn’t entirely in his dimension, right?”
“If his reach goes far enough and he causes enough damage, I don’t think that’s going to matter. What if he gets the land magic to swallow most of it up and we can’t find a way to get out of the other parts? We’ll still be trapped, and we’ll still die.” She shook her head. “I don’t pretend to understand how all this works, but he is causing the earth to quake out there—and we’re feeling it in here—so to a certain extent what he is doing will affect us. I’ve never encountered a magic user of his strength before.”
Immediately Nikolas said, “We have to step up our game. Mapping the house and labeling the shifts just became a group effort. We’ve got to get this done so we can analyze our findings and figure out if there’s a pattern we can use to reach Lyonesse.”
He didn’t say what they were going to do if they couldn’t reach Lyonesse, Sophie noted, and nobody asked him. He went on to explain how they were going to map.
Sophie would locate the shifts and move on, leaving the men to work in pairs to paint the borders, test and catalog the time differences. When each pair finished, they would run to catch up. The process would be bumpy, and there would be some time lags as they moved through each shift, but it was still the quickest way to get the job done.
“And it’s very important to make note of whatever we’re seeing outside the windows,” Sophie added. “We need to try to figure out if there’s a pattern—or if anything seems familiar to you.”
As she said it, she prayed, please let there be a pattern. Please let someone see something they recognize from home.
“Grab supplies and be quick,” Nikolas told them. “Get food, water, lanterns, and tools. We might have to force our way into spaces. When we head out, we won’t stop until we’re done.”
She and Nikolas stood in tense silence as they waited for the men to join them. The low rumble started again, shaking through their feet. It reached a peak, then subsided.
She couldn’t imagine what kind of Power it took to cause that quake repeatedly. Morgan couldn’t keep it up indefinitely. He would have to rest at some point. If he wasn’t able to break through by evening, they might get a respite overnight.
That did little to make her feel better in this moment. Needing to feel the simple, animal comfort of Nikolas’s proximity, she moved to stand beside him, and in response, he rested a hand at the nape of her neck. She hooked her fingers in a belt loop of his pants. Neither one of them said anything, for which she was grateful. They had both shown themselves quite capable of ruining a moment, but this time they refrained.
Then the men returned, rounding the corner at a jog, and they began. They went down the hall, discovering a library and a chapel and stairs.
“Shift,” she said, squatting to draw a quick line with the chalk near one corner of the chapel. Rhys and Cael paused to finish up, while the rest of the group moved on.
There were books in the library, she saw to her amazement, and manuscripts, and trunks, presumably filled with things. Apparently, Kathryn Shaw’s ancestors not only didn’t care to keep good records, they also didn’t value reading very much either since they didn’t bother to take the contents of the library with them when they left.
If we live through this, she vowed, this is the first place I’m coming back to.
At that point, Robin came bounding up to join Nikolas and Sophie. He climbed up Sophie’s body and clung to her neck. She let him ride her back, drawing comfort from his presence.
They took the stairs two at a time until she stopped with a hitch. “Shift.”
While they waited, she drew a line across the stairway. This time Ashe and Thorne stopped to finish up, while the rest moved on.
Upstairs, they found the family private chambers, six rooms all told. A scattering of items remained behind, along with a few moth-eaten tapestries. There was another stairwell that led back down to the courtyard that held the privy chambers, fruit trees, and the well across the way.
Then there was the kitchen, the buttery, the pantry, a smoke room and, down below the kitchen, a larder, which Sophie learned was a place to keep things cool.
“Shift,” she said.
And again. “Shift.”
“Shift.”
Each time she drew a line, and she and Nikolas kept moving, while the others stayed behind in pairs to finish the job. They saw nothing out the windows that looked like it might be Lyonesse. All they saw were variations on the scenes around the house. From one window, they looked out at the courtyard in deep winter. Snow piled in great drifts across the open space.
There was an interior hall from the kitchens leading back to the great hall. Then, to the back of the courtyard, there were the servants’ quarters and what looked to be a small barracks, a room with rotting racks that Gawain said was an armory, and even two cells at the end of a corridor.
“There’s a shift nearby, I can feel it,” she murmured, turning around in confusion near the cells at the end of the corridor. She felt like Pac-Man, stuck in a corner with no yellow dots to eat. “How many have we found so far?”
“Eleven,” Nikolas said.
They had been combing the house for hours. She was tired, thirsty, and hungry, but nobody suggested they quit. The periodic quake that rose from the earth and shuddered through the house’s ancient bones drove them onward.
They had lost two of their pairs, Rhys and Cael, and Rowan and Gareth. God only knew when the four would catch up with them.
As she turned around again, clenching her hands in frustration, Nikolas dug into his pack and pulled out a bottle of water. He thrust it into her hands. “Take a minute. Drink.”
Accepting the need for at least a brief break, she moved down the hall a few yards, away from the others, while she tried to think. Robin jumped to the ground and ran through the rooms in the corridor. The puck appeared to be searching too.
Sophie dropped her pack and eased into a sitting position, with her back against the wall. Sticking her knees up, she propped her elbows on them and buried her head in her hands.
Nobody said anything, but she felt like such a failure. It was her fault they were all trapped inside the house. She shot off her big mouth and speculated on things that she didn’t know enough about, and because of her, all their lives were now in danger.
Well, and hers too, but by this point, she felt like she deserved whatever she got. She couldn’t even find the stupid shift nearby even though it felt massive, like all the other shifts put together.
Another low rumble began, shaking through the house. It vibrated through the stone. She felt it in her ass and through her ankles, coming up from below.
Coming up from below, in the earth, just like the massive shift.
Robin caught her attention. The monkey was loping in circles, inside one of the cells. As she stared at him, he slapped the floor with both hands.
Excitement lifted away the dread. She leaped to her feet. “I’ve got it! The shift is below us!”
Quick footsteps came up from behind. At first she thought it was Nikolas, but then hard hands like manacles circled her neck, choking her. Her attacker spun her around so that they faced the other men, clamping her back against his chest with a hand around her throat while out of the corner of her eye, she saw him reach for the knife in his belt. He drew it and held the tip to her jugular.
They were all so much faster than she was. It happened so quickly she barely had time to grab hold of his forearm.
Several feet away, she caught a glimpse of the others—Gawain, Braden, Thorne, and Nikolas. That meant Ashe was the one who had taken her hostage.
The men lunged down the hall toward them. Nikolas’s expression turned savage.
“Back up,” Ashe barked. “Back up, or I’ll break her neck! I mean it, Nik—I’ll snap her like a twig. Back the fuck up!”
The men jerked to a halt.
“I’m going
to murder you,” Nikolas whispered.
His eyes blazed, and his features seemed to… shift?
She blinked. He looked wrong somehow, monstrous, with talons instead of fingers. She had heard sometimes Wyr partially shifted when they were under extreme emotional stress. Was that what was happening?
“We’re going to walk to the front door, you and me,” Ashe growled in her ear. “And then we’re going to walk out of this godsforsaken place. I don’t have to hurt you if you cooperate and they keep their distance, understand? What happens to you is your choice.”
Oh sure, except for the knife to her throat, and by the way, what would happen to her once Ashe got to the front door? He couldn’t let her go and still hope to escape Nikolas, and she had a feeling Morgan would no longer be quite so friendly and nonthreatening if and when they came face-to-face again.
Which spell should she use, telekinesis or confusion? The tip of that knife pressing into her flesh was awfully pesky. Even if he got confused by the spell, he might still retain enough presence of mind to press it home.
Oh man, this was going to suck.
She had to do both actions simultaneously. Bracing herself back against his chest, she pushed as hard as she could against his forearm, lifting the tip of the knife momentarily from her throat—just an inch, but hopefully it would be enough. With her other hand, she reached back and smacked him upside the head.
The blow lifted them in the air and sent them flying back several feet. As Ashe crashed into the wall, his hold on her loosened. She crashed into Ashe, which wasn’t quite as bad as stone, but it was still bad enough. A line of burning pain flared along her collarbone as the edge of his knife ran across her upper body. They fell in a sprawling tangle of arms and legs.
She didn’t have to win this fight. All she had to do was get out of the way. Kicking free of him, she rolled and kept rolling.
A heavy weight slammed down on her. Ugh!
She got ready to smack Ashe with the other telekinesis spell, but then she realized the man was covering her body with his.
“Easy, lass,” Gawain muttered in her ear as he sheltered the back of her head with both hands. “I’ve got you.”
Overhead, there was a cyclone of savage movement and breathless cursing. She tried to turn her head to see what was going on, but Gawain’s hands were in the way. She gasped, “I can’t see.”
“Hold on.”
As the fight shifted down the corridor, Gawain lifted off her. Hooking one arm around her waist, he picked her up and ran several feet away. Only then did he set her on her feet, and together they turned to the confrontation.
Nikolas was the cyclone, but she knew that before she ever laid eyes on him. He had drawn his sword and was slashing with vicious, brutal accuracy at Ashe, who gave way down the hall and parried as well as he could with his knife.
“Did you tell the Light Court where I was going to be on the road to the solstice gathering?” Nikolas asked. “When I showed up that night, you asked me if I had taken the M6.”
“I’m sorry I grabbed her! Look, let’s stop to talk about this.” Ashe backed down the hall. “I lost my head, Nik. That’s all it was. I swear it.”
Even Sophie heard the lie in that. Ashe’s face twisted, and he swore under his breath.
Nikolas lunged so fast he turned into a blur. Suddenly a line of red appeared down the side of Ashe’s face. “Did you tell them about the puck? How Gawain and I met in the pub in Westmarch? Did you, you son of a bitch?”
Pressing relentlessly forward, he lunged again and pierced Ashe high in one shoulder. Ashe reeled back, then in a liquid twist, advanced to slash at Nikolas’s abdomen. With a catlike grace, Nikolas leaped back, and the attempted blow went wide.
“How many people, Ashe?” he asked. “How many of our people did you kill with small betrayals? What did they pay you? How much were our lives worth to you?”
Suddenly Ashe roared, “It wasn’t about how much your lives were worth! It was about saving mine! They were killing us—they’ve been killing us for centuries!—with no way home, no way out.”
Nikolas paused, chest heaving. “You could have deserted.”
Bitterly Ashe snapped, “With what money? How far could I have gotten? I struck a deal for amnesty and enough cash to start a new life and get out from under this godsforsaken doom the Dark Court has been under for centuries. All I had to do was feed them information until I could deliver you to them. Once the commander of the Dark Court force had fallen, I would be free. Then she showed up and found her way into this pile of shit, and you decided it would be a bright idea to make this your last fucking stand.”
“The Hounds waited to attack until you and Gawain had left with the lorry, didn’t they? That’s why you insisted on going.” After such an extremity of rage and movement, Nikolas held still and sounded eerily calm. “You told them we had come here. You turned this into our last fucking stand, Ashe. You did this.”
Down the hall, the other four men had appeared. They walked forward, staring, their expressions stricken and shocked. The pain and rage emanating from every one of the men was so raw and palpable Sophie could hardly bear it.
She felt like she shouldn’t be watching the confrontation. This was their betrayal and their pain, and they had the right to deal with it in privacy, but there was nowhere she could go to escape it. They blocked the way to the courtyard. All she could do was retreat into the cell with Robin. Sitting on the floor, she scooped him into her arms.
An odd, incongruent sound filled the hall as Ashe began to laugh. He staggered, shoulders shaking. The blood from his shoulder wound had spread down his side.
“I guess you’re right, Nik. I was too goddamn stupid to make a break then. The deal did hinge on your life, after all.”
“Why didn’t they attack the group at summer solstice?”
“Because they thought they were going to get you before then. I’d already met up with the others by the time we found out what had happened, and besides, you might have gotten away. I thought I might still meet the bargain if I could only let them into the house when everyone was sleeping—but everybody had so much to say to one another, some of you talked through the night, and then this morning, you got the bright idea to set watches. What a clusterfuck, hey?” He looked around at the circle of stony faces surrounding them. “None of it was personal.”
“Well, it felt pretty fucking personal to me,” Nikolas said. He sprang forward, and his sword flashed again.
This time it was a direct hit to Ashe’s heart. Ashe didn’t try to dodge or parry. Instead, he let his arms fall to his side and accepted the blow. Sophie covered her head with a hand. The body fell to the floor with an audible thump.
Afterward, heavy silence descended in the hall.
Rhys said thickly, “I suspected someone was working with the Light Court. Nik, I’m sorry, I thought it was you.”
“And I thought it was you. You asked enough questions, I thought you were pumping me for information, and you killed the Hound I wanted to interrogate. I didn’t connect that the only one besides Gawain who wasn’t present for the attack was Ashe until he grabbed Sophie.” Nikolas sounded so soul weary Sophie’s eyes dampened. “He was right about one thing. Gods, what a clusterfuck.”
While the men talked, Robin tugged on Sophie’s sweater. Wiping her eyes, she looked at the puck. Ooh-ooh, he mouthed. He slapped the floor by her thigh. Then he slapped it again, and again, so insistently it caught her attention.
Here, Robin said telepathically. Down here.
Frowning, she concentrated. Robin was right. The massive shift was directly down below. This close, it felt bigger than ever.
For the first time, she focused on the floor of the cell. Part of it was wooden. She ran her fingers along one side while she studied the square. There were hinges.
A pair of boots appeared in the corner of her vision. She looked up as Nikolas knelt beside her. His expression was bitter but composed, until he looked down at
her sweater.
Then his eyes blazed, and he grabbed hold of her with tense care. “Goddamn it, Sophie! Why didn’t you say something?”
“About what?”
Her gaze followed the direction of his, down to her shirtfront. Okay, that looked pretty bad. Blood had soaked into her sweater, and it had run down her side. She looked as awful as Ashe had.
Making a face, she told him, “I forgot about it. It looks worse than it is. He caught me on the collarbone. Nik, there’s a trapdoor.”
“Who the fuck cares?” he said. His touch was much more gentle than his tone, as he eased the collar of her sweater aside so he could inspect the wound. He pressed lightly against her skin near the long cut.
“Ouch! Stop that!” She tried to shrink away from him.
“Goddammit,” he growled. “Hold still.”
Something about the way he said that told her he was barely holding on to his self-control. She forced herself to sit still, although she couldn’t help from bitching about it.
“You will never learn how to ask politely, will you?” she muttered. “How hard is it to say, ‘Will you please hold still a moment, Sophie?’ Well, let me tell you, it’s not hard, because I just said it.”
“He cut you to the bone, you stupid woman,” Nikolas snapped.
She opened her eyes wide. “Why are you calling me stupid, like that was my fault?”
She had seen Nikolas angry before, but this time his rage seemed transcendent. “You hit him with a telekinesis spell while he held a knife to your throat!”
His taut expression was so full of rage and pain and residual fear she paused and tried to swallow the snarky response that rose to her lips.
Setting her hand gently to the side of his furious, dangerous face, she said in a soft voice, “Well, yes. Yes, I did. I’m so sorry I did something to get myself out of a bad situation instead of waiting for you or one of the other menfolk to rescue me. Next time I’ll go sit in a tower and learn how to knit, mm-kay?”
So… swallowing the snark hadn’t exactly been a success. As they stared at each other, she watched a muscle tic in the side of his jaw, and she almost, very nearly, yes indeed came so close to feeling bad about that.
Moonshadow (Moonshadow #1) Page 30
