Promises to Keep dos-9

by Amelia Atwater-Rhodes

  Jeremy turned gray. Shot to his feet. Froze. Stared at Caryn. Turned toward the door.

  Turned back and grabbed Jay’s arm. “Come,” he ordered, dragging Jay after him.

  The human’s emotions had gone beyond anything Jay could comprehend. They were grayed-out in panic, and the only explanation Jay had was the echoes of “Code blue!” that the nurses in the hall were still calling.

  “What does that—”

  Jay didn’t get the question out before he and Jeremy were in another room, this one crowded with confused and overwhelmed medical staff. The volunteer with the gardenia perfume was sitting in the corner, her knees up at her chest, her mind echoing with a single, looping thought: This doesn’t happen here.

  “Get out of the way!” Jeremy shouted, pushing volunteers aside and trying to decide if anyone else in the room had ever been trained for—

  This. Jay finally saw the shapeshifter on the bed. He hadn’t realized she was there before, because she was dead.

  Jeremy was trying to give CPR, thinking, We’re not equipped for this kind of crisis here. And, Jay, if your magic can help, now is the time.

  Jay couldn’t help with dead. Could anyone help with dead?

  Jeremy seemed to think Jay could.

  “I can’t.”

  He backed out of the room, running into Rikai, who had followed like a shadow once again. As his hand brushed hers, her pain slipped past his already strained shields. Not just now-pain. Memories. Stretching, falling, wrenching, burning, stabbing, slicing … and she had been so innocent then, so young.

  And now her body was riddled with enough scar tissue that it was remarkable she could walk. Her power was still holding some of the worst injuries back, but it was taking all her energy to do so.

  She yanked her hand and power away from his with a glare, as he gasped, “I’m sorry. How—”

  He didn’t finish asking the question, because the answer came to him: Inquisition. Most of Jay’s ancestors had managed to flee the church’s deadly fire, but this woman had been caught in it. She had still been human. Worse, she had once been absolutely faithful to the church. She was one of the rare few the inquisitors had never broken. She had been certain that lying to stop the pain would damn her forever, and so she had never confessed, never named the names they’d demanded in order to make the pain stop.

  Jay gagged, trying to shove her memories away, trying to push aside the panic the nurses and volunteers and people who worked here were feeling because normally witches dealt with the scary cases and everything else was okay. Jay ran from the poor little nurse who was doing her best to take over for Jeremy, though she was thinking, This is why I left New York?

  Back down the hallway.

  Block out the fear, the fever dreams, the shuddering weakness, the—

  Rikai grabbed his hands, and pain shot through him like lightning—but this time it was intentionally given, not accidentally shared. It cut through the emotions he couldn’t seem to block out, and momentarily cleared his mind.

  “You. Need. To. Focus,” she snapped. “You—”

  A faint buzz interrupted her. Letting go of one of his hands, Rikai reached into her pocket and retrieved a slim flip phone, which she opened with clumsy, stiff fingers. “Yes?”

  Her expression never changed as she listened for a few moments, but she dropped Jay’s other hand as she said, “Pick me up from SingleEarth Haven Number Two.”

  She closed the phone, looked at Jay, and said, “My power comes in part from the same elemental who gives us all our magic, but beyond Leona, I have made deals with entities darker than your deepest fears. If Xeke dies, and you are responsible, then know I will see you devoured by creatures you cannot begin to comprehend.”

  “Xeke’s sick?” Jay asked. How could a vampire get sick? Unless he was like Brina. Jay hadn’t even thought of her since arriving. Was she sick, too? He should check on her.

  Rikai shook her head. “He is as he has been, but he feeds and feeds and cannot staunch the bloodlust. He nearly killed his lover this evening when he woke.”

  “Please,” Jay whispered. “If you have any idea what is happening—if you can help—you need to tell me.”

  “I should think it would be perfectly obvious,” Rikai replied infuriatingly.

  “Well, it’s not!” The only thing that was obvious was that she was standing in the middle of a sick ward that could too easily turn into a morgue, and she didn’t seem to care.

  “Fine. The elemental you helped, the one you thought offered to attack Midnight, has chosen to start a little higher on the chain of command than the slave traders or the trainers,” Rikai answered. “The Shantel elemental isn’t going after vampires. She’s going after Leona.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Rikai laughed, but the sharp, barking sound barely seemed to indicate amusement. “You probably don’t want to understand, little witch. Because if I understand right, you caused this.” She made a sweeping gesture encompassing all the chaos around them. “You’ll live through it, as long as you stay out of the way. The Shantel elemental has marked you, and her power will protect you. But when elementals war, civilizations burn.”

  I didn’t want this, Jay thought desperately as Rikai turned on her heel and headed toward the door. Please. I didn’t want any of this.

  CHAPTER 19

  A WAILING BABY. People coughing. Red blood left behind on a white handkerchief.

  I will get us out of here. I swear to you, I will get us out of here.

  You’re dead, Daryl. You can’t help me now.

  Brina woke with a violent shudder, hoping to discover that the entire previous day had been nothing but a surreal nightmare.

  No such blessing.

  She opened her eyes to find herself back in her tiny, sterile room. The smell of antiseptic stung her nose, and the lingering drugs had left her mouth dry and her head foggy. Wisps of dreams and memories kept seeping into the waking world, confusing her further.

  Angelica, please don’t cry.

  Brina couldn’t get the memory of that baby’s wail out of her head. At the end, of course, it hadn’t been a wail but rather a wheeze, as little Angelica’s skin had darkened and—

  No! Don’t think of that.

  Brina stared at the door, summoning the courage to stand and try to open it. She didn’t want to know if it was locked and guarded.

  Let the birds sing, dilly, dilly, and the lambs play.

  They put chains on the doors. Painted red. Guards outside.

  We shall be safe, dilly, dilly, out of harm’s way.

  She was going mad.

  Last time, Daryl had saved them. He had told her that he’d bribed the guards to leave their posts, but Brina suspected he had killed them. She hadn’t ever asked him, and certainly hadn’t blamed him. It was the only way they could have gotten out as anything other than corpses. The plague had already taken Mother, Father, the maid, and finally little baby Angelica, who had died in Brina’s arms. Daryl had done what he’d needed to do. He always had.

  Brina stood and started toward the door, stumbling when her head spun from the abrupt movement. She touched the cold doorknob, twisted it, and yanked so hard that she nearly fell when it opened. She hadn’t expected it to.

  Once it had, she wasn’t sure what to do. People were shouting, coughing, and crying all around her.

  She took a step forward and spied a familiar figure down the hall, but stopped when she realized he had tears on his pale face. Her witch. What was his name?

  He turned and saw her. Relief and shock battled on his face as he hurried to her side, reaching out to her. She dove into his arms, remembering how comforting they had been last time he had held her. This time, though, his breath was fast and his heart was pounding.

  “B-Brina,” he breathed. “I’m sorry. I never meant to have you wake up alone, but I didn’t ever imagine this.…” He trailed off, and then said, “You shouldn’t be exposed to this.”

  �
��Exposed?” Brina echoed, aware that her voice was shrill as she lifted her head.

  Jay touched her face, lifting her chin so she was looking directly at him. “You’re hungry,” he said. “I’ll get you something to eat, and then we’ll figure out what—”

  “Don’t talk to me like I’m a child!” Brina shouted, loud enough that she startled even herself as she shoved against his chest. He was as bad as Kaleo. “I am not an infant. I want to know what is going on here, and why, and I want to know what you did to me, and I want to know when you’re going to put things back the way they were.”

  There. She put her hands on her hips and stared down at him. A true lady knew how to look down at anyone, even a man a foot taller.

  He stared at her with no little surprise. She prepared herself for him to try to dismiss her questions again, as if coddling her could make her ignore everything going on around them, but he didn’t. He spoke carefully, obviously struggling to get the words out past his own emotions.

  “I don’t fully understand what power made you human,” the witch said, “and I don’t know how to undo it. Something is happening right now that is causing power and magic to change. A lot of people are in trouble.”

  “That is a great many unknowns,” she responded. “What is happening right now?”

  The witch flinched, his gaze averting. Even Brina could recognize guilt when she saw it so blatantly displayed. He blamed himself for what was going on. Was he right?

  “Shapeshifters and witches are sick,” Brina said, trying to start the story for him. “Did you do a spell?”

  “No!” he shouted, the protest echoing through the hall. “No,” he repeated. “I just wanted to help someone. I—” His voice quieted, until in a wavering whisper he asked, “What do you know about your, um, housemaid? Who she used to be?”

  Was he trying to distract her? No. He was too serious.

  “She was a witch and a shapeshifter,” Brina answered. “I never saw any evidence of special power, though she must have some. Only the magic-users can live so long.” She frowned. “She caused this plague?”

  “Yes—no, not directly, I guess, but—” He shook his head, and admitted, “I don’t understand elementals.”

  You gave me time. So I will give you time. Brina had thought those words had been a product of the drugs, but now she understood them. If Daryl had not taken command of Pet when he had, the once-sakkri would have died when Midnight had burned. Instead, Daryl had hidden her, intending to present her to Brina as a surprise that night. As a result, she was one of the only slaves who had survived the slaughter.

  “Rikai said the Shantel elemental should be weak, but she was wrong, so wrong,” Jay said, the words falling out of his mouth now like a boy at confession. “Whatever I did trying to help the shapeshifter made the Shantel elemental able to attack Leona. And that is making people sick. And I don’t know what to do.”

  The last words were a pathetic whisper. A plea.

  Brina’s first instinct was to step back. No one had ever looked at her like that, desperately seeking an answer they both knew probably didn’t exist. Ever since childhood, people had treated her as something that needed to be sheltered and indulged. Now this witch looked as if he would like to drop the weight of the world on her shoulders, if only it would help get some of the weight off his own.

  “So.” She didn’t know what to do. Fine. She would do what she always did—pretend. Stand straight. Look proud. Speak confidently. “We need to fix this.”

  “It’s not as easy as just wanting it done,” he snapped. “The problem involves powers way beyond either of us. Elementals, battling.”

  Her arm flew of its own accord, responding to the shrill, panicked tone in his voice. After the sharp crack made by her palm against his cheek, he stared at her with obvious shock.

  Now calm, and staring directly into her eyes, he said in a flat voice, “You are not allowed to hit me.”

  “Your actions may have triggered the destruction of your world,” she replied. “Which, incidentally, is also my world. I will refrain from hitting you if you will refrain from self-indulgent pity and defeatism. Now, how do we find the fighting elementals?” she asked.

  “Have you heard a word I’ve said?” he asked.

  “I’ve heard you say it’s hard,” she retorted. “And I gather you would rather give up and trust your fate—as well as mine, and however many others’—to the winds of chance. Perhaps you have no chivalry or courage. If that’s the case, tell me what you know, and I will do what I can. I will not be imprisoned in another house.”

  She would not wait this time and let fate choose whether she would live or die. Daryl was gone, and this witch needed to be saved.

  It was up to her.

  “Brina,” Jay said hopelessly, “I want to help, but I don’t know what to do. I don’t even know where to begin. People I love are sick. My brother is sick, do you understand that? And I know it’s my fault, but Rikai has already walked out on me, and I barely know anything about elementals or the Shantel.”

  Giving into instinct, she pulled him close, her holding him this time. His hair was softer than she had expected. She started to contemplate what colors she would need to re-create its silky shades and highlights, and then her mind reeled back in.

  “I know about the Shantel,” she said. Her stomach grumbled in a most unladylike way, making her blush and realize that she was hugging this man while wearing nothing but her shift. “I would appreciate it if you could assist me in dressing. Then we can share what knowledge we have. That is a good place to begin.”

  The witch nodded. She shied back from the light of gratitude in his eyes, and tried to conceal the uncomfortable moment as she returned to her room and gathered up the gown she had removed earlier. She pulled it over her head and settled the skirt into place, by which time the witch had come up behind her.

  “This seems pretty tight,” he said as he started to fasten the two dozen mother-of-pearl buttons that ran down the back of the dress. “Warn me if you have trouble breathing.”

  She nodded.

  “Though I never met her before she was Pet, I knew of the sakkri,” Brina said as Jay worked. He was right that the dress was snug, but she seemed to be able to draw enough air to sustain herself and continue speaking. “The Shantel did not like visitors, and attempting to trespass on their land was problematic, but they allowed us to pass through in exchange for certain trade agreements. It was an acceptable arrangement.”

  “Do you know much about how their magic works?” Jay asked.

  She chewed her lip and considered. “The heart of their active magic is illusion,” she said. “If you walk in the Shantel woods, they seem to change around you. Shantel hunters know exactly where you are, but you never see them until they wish it. No matter what compass you use, you end up where the magic wants you, whether that means outside their territory or at the Family Courtyard, which is what they call their palace.”

  “If Shantel magic is so strong,” Jay asked as Brina began to finger-comb her hair into some semblance of presentable, “how did Midnight get its hands on the sakkri?”

  The accusation in his tone was sharp enough to cut, but she raised her gaze, unflinching. “The same way all shapeshifters came to us. She was sold by her own kind. Humans used to send their criminals to Australia, or the Americas. Under Midnight, the shapeshifter nations used us for the same purpose. I do not know what crime a sakkri could perform that would merit such a punishment, but I assure you it was her people who made the choice—not mine.”

  Brina couldn’t deny the many atrocities intrinsic to Midnight; they were why she had rarely gone to the main building unless she had needed to. The trainers were vicious animals whose only instinct was to destroy, and Mistress Jeshickah herself had the emotional depth of a jackal. But Midnight was the only game in town, and everyone played by its rules.

  At least the Shantel elemental had one thing right: Mistress Jeshickah and her trainers were no
t the only ones responsible for everything the Shantel had suffered.

  CHAPTER 20

  NOW IS PROBABLY not the time to argue, Jay thought, biting back a retort. Maybe the Shantel had sold their sakkri into Midnight, and maybe they hadn’t. Jay didn’t know for sure.

  “They sold her to Daryl?”

  Idiot! You weren’t going to discuss it—or him!

  Brina flinched from her brother’s name but approached the question. “A Shantel witch is too valuable to go to anyone but Jeshickah’s chosen. If we could find the trainer who worked with her, he would know more about her magic. He would have studied it before accepting her.”

  He. Brina said he with more distaste and slightly less fear, but she was speaking of the same he Pet was terrified of. “Even if one of them was willing to help us, I’m not sure they could,” Jay replied. “Rikai said Xeke was violent, with an insatiable need to feed, and he’s a good guy. I don’t want to know what—”

  “He’s not human?” Brina broke in. “Like me?” Before Jay could respond, she said, “Then the trainers aren’t human. Or Jeshickah. It’s just me?” She had barely been able to manage them when she was a vampire, with Daryl breathing down the neck of anyone who dared offend her, and Kaleo defending her simply because she was his. Now she would have no such protection.

  “Lovely world you lived in,” Jay commented, unable to screen out Brina’s anxiety about those whom she’d once called associates, if not friends.

  “It was lovely,” she retorted. “There were ugly parts to it, but the same can be said of any civilization, even today.”

  “I don’t think enslaving and torturing helpless humans, shapeshifters, and witches compares to anything we have today.”

  Many times in his life, Jay had been stared at by someone thinking, Are you really this dense? This might have been the worst, since it was coming from a woman famous for being so oblivious that she starved her slaves when she lost track of time.