The Lantern's Ember

by Colleen Houck

  “Dev?” Ember said, grabbing his lapel and tugging. “Did you see her?”

  “Yes, my dove.” Dev swallowed, his eyes fixed on the ghost in such a way that Ember decided that moment wasn’t the proper time to tell him she preferred he didn’t call her a dove or any other type of bird. Birds ended up in cages. He pointed. “She’s back again. Doing the same thing.”

  Shuddering, Ember turned and hurried along to catch up to Frank. When she looked back, she saw that the apparition had paused, her dark eyes following Ember. Instead of jumping, she climbed down and trailed slowly behind them. Ember supposed that if Frank could get used to being haunted in such a personal way, then she could try to accept it as well. She just hoped there wouldn’t be any ghosts in the water closet.

  As Frank took her over to where the captain stood, steering the ship, Captain Del shouted, “Adjust our course to thirty-nine west by eighty-two south.”

  “Aye-aye, Captain,” a man replied, and pushed a series of buttons and then wound a handle until it came to a ratcheting stop. There was a groaning and creaking as the light filling the web above them flickered and the ship lurched and then steadied on the new course. “Course adjusted. Heading to the roustabout!” he shouted.

  “Good.” The captain turned to Frank. “Did you finish the grand tour?”

  “All done,” he answered.

  “Excellent.” Captain Del was about to continue, but then she paused, her ear trained to something Ember couldn’t hear. “Is it what I think it is, Frank?”

  The large man lifted his head, tilting it, and closed his eyes. “Sounds like it,” he said.

  The woman slapped her hand against the helm. “We’ve got a banshee on our tail.” She pushed a red button and the ship exploded with power, thrusting them forward at double their previous speed. “Get us to the roustabout!” she shouted. “Now!”

  Overhead, the thin strands of metal infused with witchlight began to burn red hot. Ember barely kept upright by grabbing on to a piece of decking as they shot forward. Dev wrapped one arm around Ember and the other around a rail. His grip was as tight as the steel bands of her corset.

  “What’s happening?” Ember shouted.

  “We’re being followed. If we can make it to the roustabout, we might lose them.”

  They sped upward. One moment they were in the clouds, and the next they were above them, headed toward something high in the sky. It looked like a giant metal platter with a large hole in the middle. The contraption rotated slightly, spewing steam from each of four engines.

  “Angle it just right, Frank! We’ve got to enter her at top speed!”

  A projectile shot from one of the forward guns. It burst in a crackle of sparks just before it reached the machine, exploding with light. The circle in the center flickered and then shimmered. It looked very similar to the barrier at the crossroad Ember had passed through, except that this one was still moving. Images coalesced and then, just before the nose of the ship touched it, the barrier snapped into place and the Phantom Airbus powered through.

  The deck around her squeezed and reshaped, transmuting its form into a long barrel as they pierced the flexible barrier. Ember felt like she was being re-formed along with the ship. Her corset felt too tight. She couldn’t breathe. Dev was crushing her. A ghost sped past, her openmouthed scream echoing in Ember’s ears as her transparent body was crushed and pulled as if someone was yanking her arms apart like long ropes of puffy bread dough.

  There was a sharp scent, redolent of metal and copper. Then the world around Ember spun and went white.

  Rune dismissed the heavily jowled creature. The beast shrugged and stood, then shook itself like a dog. Its jowls slapped its neck and drool splashed the wall and table.

  The head lantern peered at his cup, still full to the brim with amber liquid, and pushed it aside with a grimace. The creature’s arms and hands were matted with a copse of hair so thick, he wouldn’t be surprised to see small animals making a home there, and he didn’t want to risk any fallen hairs or spittle in his cup.

  He had been tasked with the invidious job of locating a witch who had infiltrated the Otherworld, and so far, he’d been unsuccessful. Of course, it wasn’t exactly Rune’s fault. His boss, the Lord of the Otherworld, gave him nothing to go on except hearsay. None of his lanterns had reported in. Each one was especially tuned to his crossroad, and they knew better than to hide witches.

  His first thought was to check the crossroad where the witch wind had last blown, but he had just scanned Jack’s town not too long ago and had found nothing. Besides, Jack never lied to him, and he was the most faithful, dependable lantern he had. Jack’s reputation was almost as fierce as his own when it came to enforcing Otherworld law. As far as Rune could tell, the only one who knew of the witch’s presence was the man who’d sent him on the ridiculous witch hunt in the first place.

  Rune’s boss was becoming more unhinged as the years passed, nearly obsessed with finding the key to immortality. The Lord of the Otherworld had been sending Rune on wild goose chases for the better part of a hundred years. The head lantern, who had decidedly better things to do, in Rune’s opinion, had wasted his time chasing down rumors of bespelled medallions, fabled golden cities with buried scepters that unspooled the lives of others then knitted the torn threads around the life of its wielder, hidden natural springs that granted years to those who drank from them, and tinkers who could supposedly give life to automatons.

  This witch hunt reminded him of the time he’d been sent to Salem in the year 1692, according to the mortal calendar. There had been a rumor of a powerful witch living in the town, one strong enough to catch the attention of the Lord of the Otherworld, though how he knew, Rune truly didn’t understand. What he’d found when he arrived was a town in a frenzy. He’d even had to summon Jack to help him contain the situation.

  Many mortals were hanged as witches, and anyone with even a drop of power was carted off to the Otherworld. Even though he found no witches of note, the entire town was harangued by threats and warnings from the pulpits. To exact revenge on the pious town reverends and magistrates, Rune sent them visions of devils and ghosts and dark things that made them shake in horror.

  After Jack arrived, he set the lad about cleaning up the town. To his credit, things began to settle down more quickly in Jack’s care than his own. The boy managed to quell the violence and soothe the ruffled feathers while he checked in with the Lord of the Otherworld, who, to Rune’s surprise, had promptly drained each witch he’d brought, wringing every drop of power from them until the poor creatures lay shriveled and dead at his feet. Then he shouted that Rune had brought him no one of substance and if he wanted to remain the head lantern, he’d better find his lord someone worth his while.

  The Lord of the Otherworld immediately sent Rune back to Salem on a fool’s errand to find the witch his wife had assured him was there. When he still found nothing, Rune napped near the crossroad, letting Jack do all the work required by a lantern. Though they remained for many months, no other witch was ever found, and both lanterns were soon reassigned.

  Most citizens avoided the Lord of the Otherworld now. Even the head metallurgist, one favored by the high witch, had run away. Rune had been sent after the man, but he never found him. The Lord of the Otherworld had added five hundred years to Rune’s contract for that. He had to waste an entire year recruiting to bring that number down to a mere fifty.

  Rune scowled into his ale. The Lord of the Otherworld should have been put out to pasture long ago. He was becoming desperate and maniacal. Desperate men made mistakes. Big ones. And Rune was paying close attention. It would be much simpler if he would abdicate. Then Rune could slip into his place as easily as a knife into a sheath. But the Lord of the Otherworld wouldn’t abdicate.

  Rune had seen it before. Even in the mortal world old men clutched power with an arthritic grasp, holding it covetously close to their chests. They were
like failing dogs pathetically gumming bones, attempting vainly to hide them from view. They growled and whined and made a loud, obnoxious fuss, but ultimately they were past their prime, in need of putting down.

  Rune was ready. He was primed. He was waiting. He was already a king in his own mind. He just needed a throne.

  But before Rune could take his rightful place as leader of the Otherworld, he needed to find the blasted witch. Or, even better, proof that there was no such creature in all of the Otherworld. If he could do that, then he had grounds to prove that the leader of their realm was losing his mind.

  Finally, he caught a break. It wasn’t exactly the break he’d wanted, but at least it was something. A goblin had a cousin once removed who’d seen a lantern sneaking around his town. As far as Rune knew, none of his lanterns were on holiday or preferred vacationing in Pennyport. It was small and on the far outskirts of the Otherworld. Nearly backwoods compared to the comforts of the capital.

  He left immediately and quickly located the tavern where the report had originated. Rune’s eyes narrowed as he took in the flagrant waste of witchlight. The owner obviously had an excess of it. It was possible that he was trading in the black market, but even if he was, it wouldn’t account for the man’s brightly lit gambling hall, the long line of patrons demanding entrance, the extra guards, or the working compass on the outside of the establishment. When very few could even afford to power their homes with witchlight, the tavern stood out like a beacon in the darkness.

  Ignoring the extremely large bouncer who growled at him, Rune flicked his earring, allowing his light to shine. All those waiting in line flinched, including the bouncer, who let him pass without saying a word.

  Unfortunately, the tavern owner appeared uncooperative. Even when threatened by the head lantern, the man was cocky. He freely admitted that he dabbled in black-market items. He even offered such to Rune to sample, free of charge. The man called Payne said he’d seen no sign of a lantern except for him. As to the excess of witchlight, he said he’d traded for it. Rune’s lanternlight shone into Payne’s soul but found the man was telling the truth.

  Frustrated at his waste of time, Rune shoved the man away and headed to the bar. He sank down at a table, ordered a drink, and kicked the feline skulking around the legs of his chair. It yowled and hissed before scampering off, its tail sticking straight up in the air. When a succubus slid into the chair across from him, he wasn’t surprised. “You won’t find what you’re after here,” he said. “Best brush off, and take those anodyne lips of yours with you.”

  “Now, now. Don’t be so hasty, love. Serina’s got something for you. Something you’ll be mighty interested in,” the woman purred as she reached for Rune’s hand.

  “Is that so?”

  “It is.”

  He scoffed and tried to shoo her away.

  “It’s not your affection I’m after,” the succubus assured him. “I have information.” She glanced around before continuing, her voice lowered, “I know you’re after a witch.”

  Rune sat up. He hadn’t even mentioned as much to the tavern owner, though he’d hinted well enough. It wouldn’t do to get people up in arms hunting a rumor. Even if the girl was blowing smoke, it couldn’t hurt to listen. “And what do you want in return for this information?” he asked.

  “Not much.”

  “Not much indeed.” Rune twisted his earring and the creature across from him hissed as the winking light blinded her. He read her intent as clear as day. Her motivation was emotion. Usually that meant either love or revenge. Since she was a succubus, Rune was banking on love. He dialed up his power and saw the red tinge around her heart. So, she wanted to know the whereabouts of a vampire. Interesting.

  “I see. So in exchange for a vampire’s whereabouts, you’ll tell me…”

  “I’ll tell you that my boss came into a shocking amount of witchlight very recently,” she murmured, her red lips against Rune’s ear. “This happened the same night my vampire came to town with a strange woman. She was petite, and far too pretty for my liking. It wouldn’t bother me at all to see her taken away. Perhaps then my Dev will come back.”

  “Ah. So you don’t really want to know where he is, you just want me to get rid of the competition.”

  The woman sat back, one eyebrow raised as she shrugged.

  “You must be aware that if the girl turns out not to be a witch, you’ll be punished.”

  The girl smiled. “Do you promise?”

  Disgusted, Rune stood, overturning his chair. “Let’s hope for your sake, you’re telling the truth.”

  “One more thing,” she said boldly as he made to leave. “Look for them at the skyport.”

  Rune nodded, then tossed the girl a bag of coins, which she quickly slipped down the front of her bodice. When he stepped outside, wind whipped his hair and wet droplets of rain peppered the ground. He flipped the collar of his greatcoat up and commanded his light to lead the way to the skyport. A gear shifted on his earring and the entire bulb detached and hummed.

  Like a firefly, it darted overhead, circled, and then sped off. Just as fat drops of rain splashed his cheeks, wetting his hair, he transformed into a storm cloud of his own and zipped off to follow his light, eventually absorbing it. The light rolling inside the cloud shot lightning sparks as it led the way to the skyport.

  Ember was fairly certain she hadn’t swooned. It wouldn’t do to have embarrassed herself in such a fashion. She’d merely fainted. She’d certainly experienced enough excitement in the last two days to justify fainting. Still, it wasn’t like her. Dev helped steady her as her feet found the deck, while Frank passed a flask of something pungent beneath her nose.

  Ember thrust her head away from it, smacking her skull into Dev’s chest. “There’s no need for smelling salts, Frank,” Ember said. “Though I thank you for thinking of me. I believe my corset must be too tight.”

  Once she was standing, Ember took stock of her surroundings. The roustabout mechanism the captain had been racing toward was gone, and afternoon had become deepest night. They rode on an ocean of clouds and were surrounded by stars. “How…how long was I unconscious?” she asked.

  “Only a moment,” Dev assured her. “Del got us through the roustabout in time. Whoever was in the banshee would be hard-pressed to discover our location now. We’re far out over the Saccadic Sea, a great distance from where we were just a few moments ago.”

  “The roustabout,” Ember began. “Is it like the barrier at the crossroad? It leads us to another place?”

  “It does. The roustabout works on principles of alchemy. The bismuth projectile triggers a destination based on the alignment of stars upon detonation. After this, the azimuth is determined and then a code…”

  Ember held up a hand. “It’s too much, Dev.”

  The vampire gave her a debonair smile and kissed her fingertips. “You did ask, my dove.”

  Pulling her fingers away and straightening her jacket with a frown, Ember headed over to the side of the ship. The wind, which blew wisps of hair into her face, carried with it the smell of salt and the tang of something metallic. As she peered down at the clouds, she fancied she could see the shimmer of black water far below them.

  “It’s dangerous,” Dev said, joining her at the railing. “If we got shot down over the Saccadic Sea, we’d likely be swallowed up by sea monsters.”

  “Sea monsters?” Ember turned to him with a smirk and a glint in her eye. “Are you telling a story to frighten me so I’ll fall shivering into your arms like the cooing dove you believe me to be?”

  “Will it work?” Dev’s answering grin told her he wouldn’t mind such a thing.

  “No.”

  “Well then, I’ll just warn you that the Saccadic Sea is home to many creatures. There’s a particularly pesky one that sneaks through the barrier and frequents a lake somewhere in the British Isles. It’s something of a mystery—no one in the
Otherworld can quite figure out his crossing point.”

  “I thought all crossing points were manned by lanterns.”

  “All the known ones, yes. But there are some who speculate that there are thousands of undiscovered junctions.”

  “And you’re saying that the terrible monsters living in your sea can just cross over to our oceans and rivers willy-nilly?”

  “Like in your world, we have only begun to explore the arcane seas and oceans of the Otherworld. There’s a great deal that we just don’t know. There are some who have tried to protect the mortal realm by controlling the animals rather than the crossroads. Unfortunately, the only successes were achieved via hobnailing them to the Otherworld by giving them a more ironclad nature.”

  “Do you mean they affixed metal permanently to living creatures?”

  “I’ve seen it personally.”

  “Why, that’s barbaric!”

  “On occasion,” Dev admitted. “You’ve seen my sister’s tooth? The one covered in metal?”

  “Now, now, brother. The story of my tooth is mine to tell.”

  Ember and Dev turned. Though Delia wore the same billowy shirt, tight breeches, and corset, she now also donned a warm, hooded cloak. Her eyes flashed a luminous blue in the starlight.

  “It felt rude to ask, but I’ll admit, I am curious,” Ember said. “What happened to your other tooth?”

  Delia took Ember’s hand and patted it. “Perhaps it is a story best told over a meal. Would you care to dine with me?”

  “I thought vampires didn’t eat that often.”

  “We don’t, usually. But when a witch is present, a vampire’s appetite is whetted. Isn’t that right, Deverell?” The vampiress grinned widely, showing her silver fang, but Dev ignored her and offered his arm to Ember. She took it, and they followed the captain to her private dining room. As Dev pulled out her chair, Ember noticed a shadow pass over his face. He either didn’t want Ember around his sister or was nervous about what his sister would say. Which meant Ember was now insatiably eager to find out which was true.