Corroded

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Corroded Page 1

by Becca Andre




  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Afterword

  Map

  Glossary

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Corroded

  Iron Souls: Book Four

  Copyright © 2018 by Becca Andre. All rights reserved.

  First Print Edition: 2018

  Editor: Shelley Holloway

  Cover and Formatting: Streetlight Graphics

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.

  Chapter 1

  A hush fell over the crew and passengers of the Briar Rose as Grayson stepped out of the aft cabin. A multi-layered cake was balanced in his hands. Slathered in thick white icing and topped with ripe blackberries, the cake held everyone’s attention. Everyone except Benji, who wasn’t facing the cabin door. He started to turn when Grayson set the cake on the table in front of him.

  “Happy birthday!” Briar shouted along with everyone else, the words echoing across the still waters of the canal.

  Benji’s cheeks turned red, but he grinned from ear to ear, staring at the cake. “For me?”

  “Not all of it,” Eli spoke up, eyeing the cake himself.

  “But you will get the biggest piece,” Molly told Benji, moving a stack of clean plates closer.

  “While Molly cuts the cake, you can open your gift.” Briar pulled out a pouch from her pocket and set it before Benji. It had been so hard to keep quiet about this. She couldn’t wait for him to open it.

  “What is it?” Benji asked.

  Zach laughed at his brother. “Open it and see.”

  Still blushing, he did as told, pulling open the drawstring and carefully emptying the pouch into his palm. He gasped as a silver pocket watch tumbled out.

  Briar met Grayson’s gaze and exchanged a grin.

  “We all chipped in,” Jimmy said. “The face is mother of pearl and the case is silver. The innards are—”

  “Soul iron,” Kali spoke up. Their Scourge passengers had left their seats to join them. “I feel it from here.”

  Liam glanced at her in surprise while Perseus took her announcement without apparent shock.

  “Really?” Benji asked Grayson, his eyes even wider than before.

  Grayson shrugged as he returned to his seat on the crate beside Briar. “The gears won’t warp, and the mainspring will never wear out. It’s also resistant to water damage.”

  “That’s a genuine ferromancer-made watch,” Jimmy told Benji.

  “And before you ask,” Grayson spoke up, “yes, you still need to wind it.”

  “Oh.” Benji looked slightly disappointed, not understanding that someone would have to die to make a true automatic watch. He opened the cover and studied the face a moment before he gave everyone a wide grin. “Thanks. This is the best birthday present I ever got.”

  “It isn’t every day a young man turns sixteen,” Jimmy said.

  Everyone agreed, going on to tease Benji that they should have bought him a razor. They laughed and joked as cake was passed around, but Briar noticed that Grayson had grown quiet. Was he thinking about Tristan, the seventeen-year-old ferromancer boy he’d been asked to save? Unlike human boys who welcomed the onset of manhood, a ferromancer youth was looking at a far different fate.

  She watched Benji dig into his cake, laughing between bites at something Zach said. Was Tristan the same, or was he already well on his way to becoming an inhuman monster?

  Grayson touched her knee beneath the table, drawing her attention to him.

  “We’ll figure it out,” he whispered.

  She glanced up. Once again, he had picked up on her thoughts—or she had been sharing them, rather. She really needed to get a handle on that.

  “I know,” she answered him, trying to appear more confident than she felt.

  Molly set a plate of cake before each of them.

  “Who do I have to thank for this?” Briar asked.

  “Mr. Martel, of course,” Molly said with a smile. “Although, I wrote down the recipe.”

  “Excellent.” Briar didn’t point out that with Esme gone, Grayson wasn’t going anywhere—unless things went dreadfully wrong in Portsmouth.

  Briar took a bite of her cake, trying to distract herself with the blackberry decadence. She had told the crew that they were returning to their hometown, but she hadn’t given them the specifics—aside from mentioning that Andrew might allow her to buy the boat. That wasn’t the exact truth. It wasn’t Andrew, but Solon who had offered the boat if Grayson cured Solon’s son Tristan.

  “Game of cards?” Jimmy asked once the cake had been consumed.

  “Just one,” Briar answered. “We need to get an early start if we’re to make it home in a week.”

  “Aye, Captain.” Jimmy went to fetch the cards.

  “Why’d Andrew give you a deadline?” Eli asked.

  Briar shrugged. “Who can say?”

  “Maybe he’s got to buy his next organ,” Benji suggested, his voice dropping to a whisper as he glanced at the cabin door where Molly had gone. They didn’t like to speak of her ex-husband in front of her.

  Eli cleared his throat. “I don’t think there’s any puzzling out a man who’d give up his comfortable home, fine wife, and even his life to be some ferromancer’s slave.”

  There were nods of agreement all around, but the discussion was cut short when Molly rejoined them carrying a pot of coffee and several empty mugs.

  Briar left them to their coffee and game to return to her studies in the aft cabin. When they weren’t locking through one of the many canal locks, she spent her time going over Esme’s research notes. It was sobering work since Esme would never get to finish what she’d started. Briar just hoped there was some information that would help save Esme’s son.

  Unable to remain in the cabin, now stifling hot after the meal preparations, Briar took a lantern and the journal she was reading up to the tiller deck. She sat the lantern on the low rail encircling the deck and took a seat at its base, using the support posts as a backrest. Opening the journal, she took a deep breath and plunged into the complex and copious notes written in Esme’s elegant hand.

  She didn’t know how long she sat there reading and rereading the in-depth biological explanations she couldn’t follow. She was ready to toss the journal over the rail when the hatch opened and Grayson stepped out.

  He carried a plate with a small bowl balanced atop it, and carefully stepped down onto the tiller deck to join her. “You can’t expect to understand that with no background in science.


  Briar sighed, realizing he’d picked up on her frustration. She closed the journal with a snap. “But what else can I do?”

  “Eat blackberries?” He showed her the plate he was carrying. A dozen large, ripe berries were gathered around a small bowl of the same fluffy icing that had decorated his cake.

  “Where did you get that? I figured you used all the berries on the cake.”

  He handed her the plate and took a seat beside her. “I saved them. For you.”

  She stared at the blackberries, touched by the gesture.

  “I had considered flowers,” Grayson continued, “but all the ones I saw growing along the towpath proved to be weeds—or so Zach informed me. Plus the berries aren’t quite as obvious as flowers, should other members of your crew prove to be less open-minded than Zach.”

  She looked up. “Are you courting me, Grayson Martel?”

  His expression sobered. “I would like to be. If we were just a couple of humans adrift in the world, I would say absolutely. But…” He hesitated.

  “But we’re not.” She set down the plate.

  “That doesn’t mean I can’t pretend.”

  “Maybe, but what’s the point? We have a week.” A week until she would be forced to sacrifice Grayson to save her hometown.

  “I’ve been living on borrowed time since I drew my first breath. You’re the one who inspired me to embrace what I have, rather than what I’ll lose. This isn’t any different.”

  “You make me feel like a hypocrite.”

  “Well…”

  She gave him a halfhearted elbow. “Point taken.” She looked at the plate and sighed. “I just feel like I’m betraying… something if I sit and enjoy blackberries instead of trying to find a solution.”

  “You’ve worked all day on this. Maybe a break would do you some good.” He picked up one of the berries and dipped it in icing, then held it up to her lips. “Humor me?”

  She looked up, meeting his earnest gaze. He’d brought the berries as a surprise, a gift. It would be rude to refuse—even if her appetite was gone.

  She leaned forward and took a bite. The ripe berry burst in her mouth and a drop of juice rolled down her chin. She laughed and lifted a hand to wipe it away, but Grayson beat her to it, rubbing his thumb below her lower lip.

  “Those berries are really juicy,” she said.

  “I see.” He popped what was left of the berry into his mouth, his eyes never leaving hers.

  “I thought those were for me.”

  “You’re not going to share?”

  “Oh, very well.” She picked up one of the smaller berries, and after a hearty dip in the icing, brought it to his mouth. He leaned over and took the whole berry from her, his lips brushing her fingertips.

  She pulled in a breath, surprised by the thrill that ran through her with the incidental contact.

  He held her gaze, but he didn’t give her a chance to worry about what she might have shared before he leaned over and kissed her.

  She welcomed him, moving closer to slip an arm around his shoulders. “You taste like blackberries,” she whispered.

  He smiled against her lips. “So do you.”

  His hands slid up her back and he pulled her closer. She went willingly.

  The light dimmed, and she realized he’d shuttered the lantern—without touching it.

  “Neat trick,” she whispered.

  “I do have my uses.”

  “Indeed.”

  On a crowded canal boat, privacy was almost nonexistent, let alone the opportunity to steal a kiss without getting caught. The freedom to steal multiple kisses was unheard of. Perhaps she should let the crew have a card game every evening.

  “They’ll get wise to us eventually,” he said.

  She groaned and dropped her head to his shoulder. “So much for privacy. I can’t even have any within my own mind.”

  He laughed and hugged her to him. “I know it vexes you—”

  “It frustrates the hell out me.” She sat up and looked him in the eye. “Do you have any idea how I can control it?” Without Esme, Briar had no one else to ask.

  “I’m rather new to this myself.”

  “What about when Lucrezia had you? Did she share her thoughts or whatever with you?”

  “Thank God, no.”

  “She could control it?”

  “Or her talent in this area wasn’t as strong as yours.”

  Briar frowned. Great. This might be another bizarre trait of her unique talent. “Being one of a kind stinks.”

  He chuckled and brushed his fingers across her cheek. “We’ll figure it out.”

  “You keep saying that. We’re building up quite a list of things to figure out.”

  “Yes, but I have faith in us.”

  She looked up at his phrasing. “Us,” she repeated. “I like that.”

  “I know.” He didn’t give her a chance to protest before kissing her again. They picked up right where they left off, their kisses growing bolder with each exchange. Her heart pounded and she felt lightheaded, almost drunk. But the prolonged exchange didn’t satisfy her. Each kiss made her want another, made her want… more.

  “Briar.” Grayson pulled back.

  Her heart surged for a new reason. Had he caught that indecent thought? Did he think she was—

  “Someone’s coming,” he added.

  She held her breath, then heard the thump of footfalls in the cabin below them, followed by the creak of the ladder.

  Grayson opened the shutter on the lantern, and she picked up the plate of blackberries, stuffing one in her mouth in case her lips were as flushed as they felt. Grayson retrieved Esme’s journal and opened it to a random page.

  Briar suddenly wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation. For heaven’s sake, they were both adults. But she was glad they had made the effort to hide what they’d been doing when Liam stepped out of the hatch.

  “Ah, there you are,” he said. His voice with that familiar Scottish brogue took Briar back to her childhood. She’d always loved spending time with Uncle Liam. Though he was actually her godfather rather than a blood relation, he’d been as dear to her as any beloved uncle. Her affection for him made his betrayal that much harder to swallow. Although, betrayal might be a little strong. Still, he’d kept a lot of secrets from her. Secrets that directly impacted her.

  “What are you doing, lass?” He walked over to join them.

  “Eating blackberries and reading through Esme’s notes.”

  “Hmm.” Liam took a seat on the edge of the aft deck where it formed a step to the lower tiller deck. “How are you getting on with that?”

  “I’ve about mastered the blackberries. The biological studies aren’t going as well.”

  Liam chuckled. “At least it isn’t a total defeat.”

  “True.” She popped another icing-covered berry into her mouth. “What do you need?” she asked around a juicy mouthful.

  “I wanted a word with you.” He looked over at Grayson. “Would you excuse us, Drake?”

  “Of course,” Grayson agreed, though his tone sounded annoyed. He got to his feet. “Shall I continue reading?” he asked her, holding up Esme’s journal.

  “You’re more likely to understand it than I am.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure.” He winked. “Enjoy the berries.” And think of me.

  The last weren’t words so much as sensation and emotion that translated in her mind. Unlike her, he got to choose what he shared.

  Her cheeks warmed with the suggestion. After all, she seemed incapable of keeping her thoughts from him—especially her thoughts about him. Fortunately, she wasn’t required to respond as he walked away.

  She looked over and found Liam watching her. “What is it?” she asked.

  He cleared his th
roat. “I couldn’t help but notice that you haven’t been completely honest with the crew about the situation in Portsmouth.”

  Briar straightened. “I didn’t lie.”

  “But you didn’t tell them everything.”

  “What good would it do? It will only stress them out unnecessarily. We will arrive in plenty of time, and I will take care of the problem.”

  “That’s what I was afraid of.” His expression was a mix of concern and affection. “You can’t do this on your own.”

  She frowned. “Are you offering to help me?” After all, he knew the ferromancer world well. He had been born into it.

  “I am.”

  She was surprised by the swell of relief those two words brought her, and she slumped against the rail. “Thank you, Uncle Liam.”

  His brow wrinkled. “I wasn’t going to abandon you to your troubles, child.”

  She smiled, not taking issue with the familiar moniker. He’d always called her that. “You’ll help me figure out how to save Solon’s son—and maybe the rest of them—without sacrificing Grayson?”

  Liam’s expression turned sad. “Oh, my Briar Rose. The myth of the dragon is just that: a myth. I know you care for him, but you are chasing a phantom. Ferromancers devolve, and that’s the way of it.”

  Confused, Briar stared at him, trying to make sense of what he was telling her. “If you’re not going to help me save them, then…”

  “I’m going to train you. I’ve already spoken to Perseus, and he thinks—”

  “Train me to do what exactly?”

  “Embrace your heritage. You were born of the Scourge, Briar.” The Scourge, the executioners of the ferromancer world. “It’s time you put those unique abilities to use.”

  She had hoped he had let go of this idea, but apparently not. “You don’t want me to save ferromancers. You want me to kill them.”

  Liam didn’t even blink. “They’ve already been gathered for you. It would be a simple matter. You could end this war with a single song.”

  Chapter 2

  Briar came to her feet, knocking aside the plate and scattering the last of the blackberries. “I already told you that I won’t be your assassin.”

 

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