by Karen Kincy
They all knew that Wolfram might never wake.
“You won’t let me go without promising, will you?”
“Not a chance.”
“If I do,” he said, “will you help me?”
Wendel’s words echoed in her mind. When she looked at him now, she could see the despair simmering in his eyes.
He didn’t think he could be helped, because he couldn’t help anyone.
A cough echoed in the sanctity of the cathedral. Waldemar and Cecelia walked down the aisle. They traversed the rainbow light slanting through the stained glass windows. Waldemar’s eyes looked red around the edges, his face frozen in a solemn grimace, and Cecelia kept a handkerchief close to her mouth.
“Wendel,” his father said.
Wendel stood and stepped past Ardis into the aisle.
“Is he awake?” Wendel’s voice sounded hoarse.
Cecelia’s mouth quivered. “Not yet.”
“Try not to upset your mother,” Waldemar said.
“Should I say nothing?” Wendel spread his arms. “Should I pretend it never happened?”
Waldemar spoke in an intense murmur. “I saw you try to protect Wolfram.”
Wendel’s arms dropped. “I failed. Forgive me.”
Cecelia reached for her son, the handkerchief crumpled in her hand. Her face wavered as if she wanted to smile, but couldn’t.
“I know you must feel terrible,” she said, “but please don’t blame yourself.”
Wendel stared at his mother and his eyes glittered in the candlelight.
“Is it so easy?” he said. “To feel blameless?”
Cecelia’s mouth thinned into a pale line. “We mustn’t linger in the past, Wendel. We must pray for Wolfram’s future.”
Wendel cleared his throat, looked down, and ran his hand over the back of his neck. When he glanced up, his mouth was twisted.
“Does Wolfie have a future?” he said.
Cecelia stifled a sob with her handkerchief.
Waldemar glared at his son. “Enough.”
Juliana stepped between them and lifted her hands. “Please don’t fight. I asked Wendel here, as part of the family.”
Wendel tightened his jaw. “I’m no longer part of this family.”
Ardis climbed to her feet. She caught Wendel’s gaze, waiting for him to say they could go, but his eyes looked faraway.
“I’m sorry.” Grief roughened Wendel’s words. “I couldn’t save him.”
With that, Wendel clenched his hands into fists and turned his back on his family—or what was once his family, and now existed in name only. He walked from the cathedral, his face hardened by bitterness. When Ardis followed him outside, she saw the fragility of his expression. He blinked fast in the morning.
“It was my fault,” Wendel said. “I failed. I couldn’t—” He sucked in shuddering breath. “Everyone I know gets hurt.”
Ardis said nothing, because there was some truth to it.
Wendel leaned against the cathedral, his hands splayed on either side, and touched his forehead to the stone. The muscles in his arms tightened, the veins standing in stark relief. He said nothing, his breath fogging the air.
“You asked me what I remembered,” Wendel said.
“When?” Ardis said.
“When I fell from the Serpent’s Tower.” He held his breath. “I remember dying. But I remember nothing of being dead.”
She exhaled. “I’m not sure what I expected.”
“There was no heaven. No hell.”
“Isn’t that a relief?”
“No.”
Wendel’s fingernails scraped the stone of the cathedral.
“If there’s nothing after death,” he said, “there’s nothing waiting for Wolfram.”
Something broke inside Ardis, the shards hurting her heart.
“Wendel,” she said, his name almost a sigh. “Wolfram isn’t dying.”
“We don’t know that.”
“He might wake at any moment. We have to hope for that.”
“I’m not sure I can hope anymore.”
His voice sounded bleak, already caught in the undertow of despair.
“Yes, you can.” She gripped his arm. “And you will.”
Wendel leaned back from the cathedral and looked down at Ardis. His eyes glittered with emotion he couldn’t contain.
She didn’t want to leave him alone, and she was desperate to distract him.
“Your violin,” she said.
He narrowed his eyes. “What about it?”
“You left it in the castle.”
“Did I?”
“In the conservatory. When the dragon attacked, I hid it under a potted palm.”
He blinked. “I suppose we should rescue it from the rubble.”
So they left the cathedral and walked through the streets of Königsberg. They came upon the castle and strode across the lawn. Shattered glass glittered in the sun. The water of the river rippled like corrugated steel.
“Both of you, please stay back.”
A boyish soldier in Prussian blue clutched the hilt of his sword like he might have a reason to use it. At least two dozen other soldiers guarded the castle. On the river, the Prussian Navy dredged the bottom with a barge.
Ardis frowned. “Did they find the dragon?”
“That’s classified, ma’am.” The soldier licked his lips. “I have to ask you to leave.”
Ardis wondered how she should educate him, but she was saved the trouble.
Wendel smiled thinly. “We won’t be more than a moment.”
He walked into the conservatory. Ardis blocked the soldier’s path long enough for Wendel to return with his violin.
“How is it?” Ardis said.
Wendel took out his violin and traced his fingers over the glossy wood. He frowned, his lips pressed together pensively. He wandered downriver, tucked the violin under his chin, and drew the bow over its strings.
“It may be a little off,” he said.
Wendel played a simple melody, his eyes closed, his face tight with concentration. His sadness bled through the music and shivered into the air. Then, the song quieting, he lowered the violin and opened his eyes. He sucked in a slow breath and let it out even more slowly. The tension faded from his stance.
“There you are!”
His boots rapping on the bank, Konstantin hurried along the riverside.
“Archmage,” Wendel said, by way of greeting.
Konstantin had shadows under his eyes. He looked like he hadn’t slept, not that Ardis had slept much, either. Not with Wendel tossing and turning the whole night, and her worrying about the return of his nightmares.
“Did they find the dragon?” Ardis said.
Konstantin shook his head. “I’m afraid not.”
“Unsurprisingly.” Wendel’s mouth hardened. “I’m not waiting here for its grand entrance. See you back at the hotel.”
Before Wendel could go, Ardis kissed him on the cheek. He squeezed her shoulder, then strode away, his violin under his arm.
“Ardis,” Konstantin said, “I have something to show you.”
“Lead the way,” she said.
With a brisk nod, Konstantin started walking. Ardis followed him back to the drydock.
Engineers scrambled over the Colossus automaton as they worked to repair the damage done by the clockwork dragon.
“This way,” Konstantin said.
They entered a small office. It wasn’t crammed nearly as full of books as Konstantin’s office in Vienna, but it still had a haphazard décor. Konstantin settled in a chair behind the desk. He slipped on a pair of glasses with magnifying lenses and dragged a lamp closer to the desk, where he had pinned a bug to a piece of metal.
Ardis shuddered. “Is that a clockwork wasp?”
“Yes,” Konstantin said. “Please, sit.”
The only other chair was a high-backed leather armchair in the corner by the door. Ardis sank down into the cushions. She let out a puff of air
. She wasn’t sure she ever wanted to get up again. It was damn comfortable.
“What did you want to show me?” Ardis said.
Konstantin stared intently at the clockwork wasp. He prodded the insect’s guts with a screwdriver, and a mechanical leg twitched. Ardis slid further away and rubbed the faint scar on her arm where she had been stung.
“I have been studying this specimen,” Konstantin said, “and trying to understand what makes it tick.” He laughed quietly at his own joke. “Though it doesn’t seem to be powered so much by clockwork as it is by magic.”
“Technomancy?” Ardis said.
“Yes and no,” Konstantin said. “Looking at the wasp in more detail, I believe that the magic must be psychothaumaturgy.”
Ardis blinked. “What? I can’t even pronounce that.”
Konstantin flipped up the magnifying lenses. “Powered by a soul.”
A knot tightened in her gut. “There’s a soul in the wasp?”
“There was.”
“And the clockwork dragon?”
“An infinitely more powerful soul.”
Ardis stared at the dissected clockwork wasp. “How do we kill the dragon?”
“There should be a crystal in the dragon’s heart,” Konstantin said. “That would contain the soul and act as a battery.”
Ardis imagined tearing into the dragon and grabbing a fistful of magic.
“How big?” she said.
Konstantin bent over a piece of paper and scribbled down figures in the margins of what already looked like an extremely complex equation.
“According to my calculations,” he said, “the dragon would require a crystal the size of a loaf of bread. Approximately.”
Ardis pinched the bridge of her nose and laughed.
“So I’m looking for an enchanted baguette?” she said.
“An enchanted crystal as big as a baguette,” Konstantin said, missing the joke completely.
Ardis sighed and let her head fall back against the chair.
There was a quick knock on the door.
“Who is it?” Konstantin said.
The door swept open and Himmel marched in.
“Falkenrath,” he said. “We need to talk.”
Konstantin pursed his lips. “I’m afraid I’m rather busy right at the moment.”
Himmel let out a short laugh and rubbed the stubble on his chin.
“God,” he said, “you’re always busy. Don’t you ever sleep?”
Ardis arched her eyebrows, since Himmel hadn’t seen her sitting behind him.
“I haven’t had much time for sleep,” Konstantin said.
Himmel looked him in the eye. “They assigned me to another airship.”
“Oh?” Konstantin’s blue eyes brightened. “That’s wonderful news.”
“I don’t want to go.”
Himmel closed the distance between them. Frowning, Konstantin stepped out from behind his desk, his hand on his hip.
“But why?” the archmage said.
Himmel lowered his voice. “You.”
The frown melted from Konstantin’s face. “Oh.”
“I’ve waited too damn long to do this,” Himmel said.
Himmel grabbed Konstantin by the shoulder and yanked him into his arms. Konstantin sucked in a breath, but only that one breath before Himmel kissed him with unrestrained passion. Konstantin let out a quiet cry, his hands empty at his sides, then reached behind Himmel’s neck. Himmel dragged him closer and deepened the kiss.
Her ears hot, Ardis cleared her throat. Loudly.
Himmel and Konstantin broke apart, broke of them breathing hard. Himmel looked at Ardis, and his eyes rounded with shock.
“Don’t worry about me,” Ardis said. “I was on my way out.”
Konstantin touched his lips, his face burning with the reddest blush he had ever blushed.
“Theodore,” he managed to mumble.
Ardis showed herself out. As she turned the doorknob, she heard Himmel speak.
“Well?” he muttered.
“The mustache tickled a bit,” Konstantin said faintly.
Ardis bit back a laugh and slipped through the door.
“You know what I mean,” Himmel said, even gruffer then before.
Ardis glanced back, just a peek, and saw Konstantin reply with another kiss.
~
With Natalya out of commission, Ardis spent the rest of the day training to pilot the Colossus automaton. The controls were nearly the same as the Knight class, though with an automaton this big, the feedback from the limbs wasn’t as responsive. Ardis had to put some brute strength into controlling them. Never mind the wireless telegraph in the cockpit—there wasn’t enough time to learn Morse code.
By sunset, Ardis was tired and more than ready for a bath.
She climbed from the cockpit of the Colossus and descended the scaffolding on aching legs. She said goodbye to Konstantin, who barely noticed. He had been sleepwalking through work with a dreamy smile ever since Himmel left his office. Ardis grinned, glad the archmage and the airship captain had finally kissed.
Out in the streets of Königsberg, wind rattled the bare branches of trees together.
So many soldiers had been stationed in the city over the past few days. Ardis saw Prussian blue on every street corner. She tugged her jacket closer and shivered at more than the cold. War was almost upon them.
Golden gaslight spilled from the hotel. Prussian army officers lingered in the lobby. They wore spiked helmets called pickelhauben, the steel and gilt polished to a high shine. Ardis appraised the cavalry sabers at their sides.
Not bad, though she doubted they knew what they were up against.
She trudged upstairs, her muscles sore, and her stomach grumbled. Hopefully Wendel was back at the hotel. They could have dinner together, something with buttered bread. That sounded delicious right about now.
Outside their room, Ardis clicked the key into the lock.
It was already unlocked. She hesitated, her hand on the door, then shoved it open.
Wendel lay on the bed with his arm over his eyes. He was barefoot, his shirt unbuttoned, the quilt wrinkled beneath him.
Well, he needed the sleep, after—
The sheets rustled. A woman lay behind Wendel. A naked woman.
Ardis stood in the doorway, her legs locked. Heat rushed into her face, then drained and left her feeling ice cold.
What the hell was going on? Who the hell was she?
The woman lifted herself on her elbow and traced her fingernail along Wendel’s cheekbone. The intimacy of the gesture hit Ardis like a kick in the gut. Nausea twisted her stomach. Saliva filled her mouth.
The naked woman swung her legs over the edge of the bed and sauntered to the door. Her cornsilk hair swayed at the curve of her hips and barely hid her breasts. She smiled at Ardis, and her lips bared serpent’s fangs.
“Jesus Christ,” Ardis said.
The vampire from Bulgaria. The one who had been so taken with Wendel.
“What’s this?” the vampire said. “Dessert?”
She licked her lips, then sucked a drop of blood from her thumb. Her eyes flashed silver as they reflected the light.
“Back the hell away, bitch,” Ardis said, her words a hoarse growl.
“I’m not a bitch,” the vampire said. “I think you have us confused with werewolves.”
Ardis swung her fist at the vampire’s pretty little nose. The vampire caught her by the wrist and twisted her arm. Ardis gasped at the sharp pain and tumbled into a roll before the vampire could pin her down.
Chun Yi lay in its scabbard on the dresser. Ardis lunged for her sword, but the vampire hit her from behind. A fist yanked her hair, and the vampire slammed her against the dresser. Winded, Ardis doubled over.
The vampire bent over her shoulder and sucked in a breath. Sniffing her scent. A tongue flicked out and licked her neck.
“You taste marvelous,” the vampire said.
Ardis tried to yank away,
but the vampire gripped a fistful of her hair. The hilt of Chun Yi hung balanced over the edge of the dresser.
“Women in your condition are a delicacy,” the vampire said. “Something about the blood of an unborn child adds that zest.”
Unborn child? A cocktail of fear and hope dizzied Ardis.
“Sorry,” Ardis said, “but I’m not on the menu.”
She lurched and grabbed the scabbard of her sword. The vampire slapped Ardis’s hand and pinned her wrist to the wood of the dresser. The weight of the vampire pressed on her back. Ardis pretended to go limp.
“Take off your clothes,” the vampire whispered, her breath cold against her neck.
“Not interested,” Ardis said.
The vampire had a husky laugh. “He was.”
Anger simmered inside Ardis, then boiled over. She ripped her hair from the vampire’s fist and elbowed her under the chin.
The vampire snarled, but it was too late. Ardis grabbed her sword.
Enchanted flames crackled down Chun Yi. The vampire sprang away, her eyes narrowed.
Ardis didn’t waste time on a fair fight. She stepped back, swung Chun Yi, and slashed open the vampire’s neck. The blade sliced through to the spine. The vampire collapsed like a marionette with its strings cut.
To be safe, Ardis completely beheaded the vampire. Old blood oozed onto the carpet.
Ardis wiped her sword on a towel, sheathed it in its scabbard, and walked to the bed. Wendel still lay with his arm over his eyes.
“Wendel!” she said. “Wendel, wake up.”
He murmured something she didn’t understand. His eyelashes fluttered like black wings. Blood dripped from a bite on his neck.
“What time is it?” Wendel slurred his words.
“Time for you to tell me what the hell happened.”
Wendel opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. He blinked, then grimaced.
“Room’s spinning,” he said.
“How much blood did you lose?” Ardis said. “How much venom did you take?”
Wendel groaned and pressed his head against the pillow.
“Answer the question,” she said.
“What venom?”
“The vampire venom. From the vampire who was naked in your bed.”
Wendel sighed. “A mistake, Ardis. An accident.”
