“That’s true,” Ember said, and when Dev saw the longing look on her face, he knew he had her. “I’ll have to go home and collect all my things first,” she added finally.
“Of course. Shall I help?”
Ember bit her lip, looked the vampire up and down, and then shook her head. “I’d prefer to meet you at the crossroad, if you don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind at all,” the suave vampire replied. “Waiting on a beautiful woman whets anticipation, so the man appreciates her arrival all the more. Until then.”
* * *
* * *
While Dev waited at the crossroad for the girl, he pulled a tiny clockwork owl and a letter from his cloak pocket and read the message from the high witch one more time….
I am entrusting you with a very dangerous assignment, one that needs to be completed with the utmost discretion and secrecy.
There is a young witch I’ve scryed who needs to be escorted to the Otherworld.
You may use any means to bring her, but you must not damage her.
I have included a charm for your own protection, as well as half of your payment.
It has already been deposited in your preferred manner.
The final payment will be delivered upon completion of the task.
After retrieving a fresh piece of parchment and a pen from his cloak, Dev began writing a message of his own….
I have located the witch and am bringing her directly.
Assuming all goes well, we should arrive within the week.
The lantern is . . . an interested party, so steps will need to be taken to avoid his notice.
This may be my last communication until I arrive.
When he had finished, he attached the parchment to the beak of the owl. Satisfied, he wound up the owl then switched on the witchlight to power the device. The owl zoomed up in the air, its wings clicking, and then it sped down the bridge and disappeared into the mist.
She stood frozen in the woods for a moment, wondering if she was doing the right thing. Then, feeling the painful tug in her gut pulling her toward the Otherworld, she decided not to ponder it too much and ran to her window, her breath fogging the air in front of her.
When she got back to her room, she changed into her warmest and most practical traveling clothes, donning her leather leggings and throwing another two dresses in her bag. Then she quickly packed the rest of her bag with vials, books, a small cauldron, and her pack of supplies. She added two flasks of water and a bag of dried fruit, dried meat, and biscuits. The fire in her belly grew even hotter, especially when Flossie’s cats twined their bodies around her legs, meowing piteously.
Ember checked both guns in their holsters and then donned her cloak lined with pockets. Ready, she stole away from home for a second time that night. She wrote a note to Finney and hid it deep inside the Sleepy Hollow tree where they’d practiced with the blunderbusses, asking him to take care of her aunt and thanking him for helping her with her spells. She told him not to worry about her, though she knew he would.
As Ember made her way up the hill to Jack’s bridge, she wondered if she should have left a note for Jack too, but she knew he would only try to follow her and bring her back. She wished she could say goodbye.
With her pack already weighing her down, Ember slogged through the snow and stopped just shy of the bridge. Deverell watched her, eyes gleaming, and studied her quietly for a moment, trying to determine the best approach to gaining the witch’s trust. He stepped from the trees and was behind her in an instant. A trained witch would have sensed him already. That fact confirmed his suspicion that there had been no one around to teach this girl the art of witchcraft, and it explained her unique take on spell-making and potions.
“Are you ready, then?” Dev asked.
The girl whirled around. “Oh! You frightened me.”
“I apologize. I didn’t mean to do so. I’ve been…hiding from your lantern,” he said, only partially lying.
“I don’t think he’d hurt you,” Ember said, defending Jack. “He’s not cruel.”
The vampire paused, choosing his words carefully. “Perhaps you don’t know all there is to know about lanterns.” Then he offered Ember his arm. “Shall we? I’m rather excited to show you the wonders of the Otherworld.”
Ember wrung her hands instead of taking his arm. “You never told me who sent you to find me.” The draw of the Otherworld was almost unbearable. A cat ran past them, darting onto the bridge and disappearing in the dark.
Dev blinked, considering the ramifications, and then answered, “The high witch sent me. She sensed a new witch, one powerful enough to cross over, and asked me to find you and then contact her. My guess is that she’d like to meet you.”
“The high witch?” There was a gentleness, a soothing of her nerves, that washed through her. When she thought of the high witch, all Ember’s doubt and hesitation fell away like autumn leaves in a brisk wind.
“Yes. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to get safely away from here before your lantern returns. I promise to answer all your questions on the other side.”
“Very well. I suppose meeting someone can’t hurt,” Ember said, almost as if in a trance. Threading her arm through Dev’s, she declared, “I’m ready.”
Dev wondered if that was true. The tender witch was so innocent. It almost made him feel guilty. Almost. “Now hold on tight,” he said. “This might sting a bit.”
The vampire stepped onto the bridge and kept going. Ember felt nothing at first; then her skin flushed hot and prickly bumps erupted all over her body. She trembled, and saw that the vampire’s pale skin turned a sinister shade of red as well.
Ember paused, but the vampire tugged her forward. “You must press on!” he shouted as a hot wind whipped around them. “To stop is to languish in the hellfire.”
“Hellfire?” Ember shouted back. She didn’t like the sound of that. At some point, she felt the tendrils of her world loosen their grip, and something new began tugging her forward. Her heart thrilled as she pondered what lay ahead—surely the Otherworld was a place full of mystery and miracles—but she also felt a sort of melancholy for her longtime guardian left behind.
When they reached the other end of the bridge, Ember noticed that the creaking wood had become iron struts, beams, and bracings. The air smelled different too. Almost like fire mixed with dirt and ore. It left a metallic taste on her tongue.
They walked on toward a hillside, leaving the bridge behind. Before her stretched a wide city full of tall buildings. Each one had a chimney that puffed out billows of black clouds, which gathered together and hung in a gray mist over the city. The persistent tug hadn’t left her, but it had settled somewhat. The feeling would lessen to a tolerable level when she was around Jack, but now that she was finally there, in the Otherworld, she felt right, centered, like she belonged. The great, yawning world lay at her feet, and she wanted to open her arms and embrace the whole of it.
“Welcome to Pennyport, one of the more…interesting towns in the Otherworld. Come along, then,” he said, pulling her forward.
Ember’s mind was full of questions. “So is Jack’s crossroad connected to Pennyport specifically?”
Deverell made haste to get Ember far away from the crossroad, and the lantern. “There are as many cities, oceans, and continents in the Otherworld as there are in your world, but there are very few access points between them. Your lantern can access any one of five cities from his bridge. This is the one I chose. One simply needs to think of the desired city. The bridge reads your intention as you cross.”
“Then I could have ended up anywhere if I’d tried to get here on my own.”
“If you didn’t have a city in mind, then, yes, the bridge would have selected a place for you.”
“Amazing!” Ember heard a rumble and gasped as a large machine began harvesting grain in a field nearby. “What’s tha
t?”
“It’s a cogwheel reaper,” he answered.
“But where are the horses to pull it?”
“We don’t need horses here, though we do breed them. Our machines run on witchlight.”
“But how does it work?”
“It sensed your witchlight and turned on.”
Ember gaped at him. “You mean I’m powering that contraption? Right now?”
“You are, my dear.”
Ember looked out across the vast fields and saw a half-dozen people wandering through the waving grain. “Are you sure they aren’t running it?”
“Who, the ghosts?”
“Ghosts?”
As Dev mentioned it, Ember realized she could see through the people to the grain behind, and that those who were reaping captured nothing in their hands. Almost as one, they turned to her and began slowly marching closer.
“They’ve noticed you,” he said with a frown. “We’d best get going.”
“Right. Well, I don’t want to leave the machine running. So how do I turn it off?”
Dev considered her for a moment, blinking, and then murmured almost to himself, “Yes. I’ll have to help you learn how to do that. But first, I’ll need to get ahold of some dead-man’s hand.”
Ember gulped. “What is that? An ingredient for a spell?”
“Of a sort,” he said, pulling her forward. “In your world, men say that the hand of a dead man hanged on the gallows has mystical powers, such as giving the wielder the ability to incapacitate others and open locked doors. But here, dead-man’s hand is a root that grows in certain regions. It makes an infusion that cloaks a witch’s light.”
Dev had decided to take Ember the long way around to the capital city, where the Lord of the Otherworld lived with his high witch—not that the Lord of the Otherworld was aware of Ember. No. The high witch had been very explicit regarding just how and where he was to deliver the girl. Still, the Lord of the Otherworld had spies everywhere, which meant Ember was in danger of being discovered, even here in a faraway outpost. Dev would have to shield her to keep her from harm.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “I chose this town on purpose. I know just the place to find the infusion.”
“You do?”
“It’s a tavern called the Brass Compass. The owner owes me a favor. I’m sure he’ll brew us up enough so you’ll have the freedom to walk around for several days without being noticed.”
“Perfect. Then let’s go.”
Dev caught Ember’s hand and drew her back. “However, you will be obvious on the way into town. Every light, every bell and whistle, and every contraption from here to the pub is going to be announcing your presence, just like that reaper back there. And when I say a witch is valuable, I mean she is valuable as a captive. Not only is her blood worth a fortune, but her power can be siphoned off, or she can be sold to the highest bidder.”
“Oh,” Ember said softly. She glanced up. The machine was still chugging away, blowing clouds of steam from the pipe on top as it plowed down row after row of ripened corn. Biting her lip, Ember tried to sense the power it pulled from her to move, but other than a tickle in her abdomen, which was tiny when compared to the connection she had to the Otherworld itself, she felt nothing. “So what do we do? I don’t want to be taken prisoner.”
“I don’t want that either,” the vampire agreed as he stroked his chin and gave her a piercing look. “It’s an easy-enough fix. Just need to drain about half of your blood.”
“It’s the only way, Ember. Without taking your blood, you’ll stand out like a horse wearing a hat. Don’t worry about pain. A vampire’s bite is as pleasurable as his kiss. Well, my kisses, at least.”
Ember folded her arms across her chest. “What if I say no?”
“I cannot take a witch’s blood without her express consent.”
“What if you’re lying about why you want it?”
“Tell you what, I’ll give you a vampire’s promise.” He bit his wrist, the fangs puncturing the skin as if it was rice paper. Blood swelled from the two points as he held out his wrist to her.
“Vampire blood cannot lie. Touch your tongue to my wrist and you’ll know my words ring true. Besides, vampires are honor-bound to keep the promises made with a blood oath.”
Ember looked at him skeptically, but touched the tip of her tongue to a single droplet of blood. There was a rush of sweetness, like she’d just licked a spoonful of sugar.
“There,” the vampire said. “Now listen carefully. I promise I will not kill you or turn you into a half-breed vampire. I only want to help you get to the city undetected.”
Ember studied his face as he said the words, and her heart beat quickly. There was a ringing in her veins, a hot rush of confirmation. She knew he spoke the truth, just as she knew the sun was shining or that water was wet. But there was a tinge of murkiness in the water. There was something off, something he wasn’t telling her.
Dev could have cursed himself for adding that last part. It was the “only” that caused a problem. He certainly wanted more from Ember than to “only” get her to the city. He could see on her face that she caught the deception, but she nodded anyway and told him he could proceed.
“Come with me,” he said, and guided Ember to a small shed. A dim light went on overhead as she walked in. Glancing up, Ember marveled at the row of pendant lights made of pipe glass. The tubes were blown in such a way that the bottoms swelled like small, long-necked gourds. Steam shot out the top of each tube, and the filaments, which resembled thick strands of corn silk, grew hot and bright. In fact, the pipes began whistling and steam filled the room. Dev worried that the system would soon break if he didn’t siphon off a bit of the witch’s power.
“Try to temper your output,” Dev said.
“How?”
“Think of it like banking a fire. Imagine you’re dousing flames with water or kicking a layer of cold sand on top of hot coals.”
Ember closed her eyes and concentrated on the tickling in her belly, trying to visualize drinking an entire bucketful of ice-cold water.
“That’s better,” Dev said as the whistling stopped and the lights, which had been approaching the brightness of the sun, dimmed to a normal level. “You’re a quick study. Now, shall we begin?”
He guided a reluctant Ember over to a wooden table and wrapped his hands around her waist. When he deposited her on the tabletop, she squeaked in alarm and scooted back, away from him.
“Ember,” he said gently, “I’ll need you to come a bit closer for this to work.”
Frowning and obviously uncomfortable with the idea, Ember shifted and held out her arm.
The corner of Dev’s mouth twitched. “As pleasant as it would be to press my lips to your wrist, a vampire can drink blood more quickly when accessing the veins of your neck.”
Ember touched her fingers to her throat, then pushed aside her hair with a stiff determination. She nodded that he should proceed and gritted her teeth, closing her eyes as if Dev was going to do surgery on her.
With the heady scent of her skin wafting around him, Dev moved his lips over her neck, barely touching his tongue to the skin, until he felt the telltale thrum of her pulse. Then, ever so gently, he pierced her flesh and sweet witch blood gushed into his mouth.
“Oh!” Ember said softly, sucking in a breath as the vampire drew blood from her vein. Dev’s hair tickled her cheek, and her eyelashes fluttered, but she didn’t open them. She fancied she could still see the yellow glow of the lights dancing across her eyelids as they flickered from the exchange of power. She heard Deverell moan faintly. One hand slid up into her hair to angle her head, while the one cupping her waist pulled her close.
His lips moved over her throat slowly, drawing, pulling, taking, but it didn’t hurt. In fact, warmth shot through Ember’s body, baking her from the inside out. It reminded her of lazy days when she lay in her meadow
on a blanket, napping in the hot summer sun. At first, it was just nice. Then it became more than nice. A sort of urgency stole through her. The warm sun was no longer enough. She strained closer to it. The sun burned, but she didn’t care. She wanted more.
She felt more than heard him mumble something against her throat, and then his arms tightened as light bloomed around her in an explosion so bright, she couldn’t see, couldn’t hear. The light slowly dissipated, and as it did, Ember’s mind was set free. She rocked gently, drifting on the soft, gauzy layers of semiconsciousness, relishing the dark space between sleeping and waking.
It was a good place to be. Pleasant and worry-free. It was like all the nice things she loved wrapped into one feeling. It was her favorite comforter on a winter’s eve, the petals of a rose tickling her hand, the taste of her aunt’s fresh buttered rolls, the snap of a newly washed dress before it was hung on the line, and the warm body of a purring kitten snuggled in the space between her arm and a pillow.
The idyllic feeling retreated as a dim awareness dawned. Her head throbbed and she groaned for an altogether different reason than she had before. She was wrapped in her cloak as tightly as a newborn babe in a blanket. There were stars overhead, which meant she’d been out of commission for an embarrassingly long span of time. It took her a moment to realize she was being carried.
“Mr….Deverell?” she said.
“I’m here, Ember. And, please, call me Dev.”
“What…what happened? Did it work?”
“It worked. Too well. Your power is so strong, I’ve never seen the like. Even I couldn’t absorb it all. I took as much as my body could handle and I’m still twitching like a live wire with the potency of it. You also blew a hole in the side of the shed and exploded all the lights in town, and probably most of the working machines. The good news is that the townsfolk will be too busy trying to figure out what happened to notice a witch in their midst.” Dev laughed. “I suppose that’s one way of going about undetected.”
The Lantern's Ember Page 6
