Wicked Chill (Away From Whipplethorn Book Four)

by Hartoin, A. W.

  Ovid threw his head back and screeched. I slid back and grabbed onto his wing joint. A dash of black.

  “There!” I yelled.

  The horen’s black dragon made a quick turn around the pulpit and dashed toward the cathedral’s big doors. They were wide open with all the humans coming in.

  “He’s escaping!” I screamed.

  Percy and Penelope streaked past us. Percy bit the dragon’s tail. Penelope sent a stream of fire at his right wing, scorching a third of it. The black dragon arched his back and went into a flat spin. The horen hurled himself off. His golden ball flew off to the left, so fast it left a golden streak in the air. Ovid dove after it, but another black dragon was faster. The horen landed on his back. The dragon wheeled around to go for the door again, but it was blocked. The damumoto horses were crisscrossing it with tremendous speed, leaving their roads in a grid pattern in front of the entire exit. A man was knocked backwards when he tried to come in.

  The black dragon banked hard to the right. Its right wing touched on the damumoto’s strips and huge sparks rained over Ovid as we flew behind him. Victory crouched low on Ovid’s head, pointing off to the left. Ovid broke away. Percy and Penelope continued the chase. The black dragon flew sideways against the enormous stained glass windows, looking for an escape. Ovid darted ahead and cut him off at St. Januarius’s altar. The move forced him too low and he struck the altar, knocking off two heavy gold candlesticks and a cross. We flew through a mist of green dragon blood. It stung my eyes and made Victory slip. He tumbled off Ovid’s head and I caught him, just barely, by the foot and tucked him into my hood as we zipped over the heads of a couple hundred panicking humans.

  Percy and Penelope boxed the black dragon in. Ovid was an inch from his tail. The dragon had no choice. He tucked his wings and went straight for the stained glass above the Trinity Altar. He shattered four panes of pastel glass as he went through. Shards sliced into Ovid’s thick hide, but he didn’t hesitate. He went right through after him and darted into icy cold outside air.

  Great splashes of blood hit us and the black dragon faltered. Ovid snapped his jaws on his tail and yanked him clean out of the air. We tumbled down. Everything was spinning. I saw black, green, purple hides flash before my eyes before crashed into the stone cobbles of the Stephansplatz beside the Christmas tree. We rolled in a great ball of dragons, hitting human’s legs and ramming into a child’s stroller before we stopped. Before I could see straight, Ovid was on the black dragon, snapping and tearing. I let go of his wing joint and dropped to the cobbles, landing painfully on my horen-damaged ankle. I fell to my knees and only vaguely felt a frantic patting on my neck. I staggered to my feet and backed away from a ball of fighting dragons, the black one, Percy, and Ovid. They were all flames and blood. I couldn’t see the horen in all that mess.

  Victory climbed out of my hood and onto my cheek. His skinny little arm next to my eye pointed. A flash of gold. The horen was running across the Stephansplatz, weaving between human’s legs. I took off after him with Victory still stuck to my face. I wasn’t very fast with that stupid ankle, but luckily the horen was injured. Splashes of golden blood dotted the cobbles. I slipped in a couple.

  You better not die.

  I chased him past humans sitting at an outdoor café under large umbrella heaters. The horen reached out, his claws slitting trouser legs and thick suede boots. He just did it because he could, because destruction was his thing. He’d soon know destruction. I put on speed, ignoring the fiery pain in my ankle. He dodged left through the smallest of cracks before the café door closed. He glanced back with a wicked smile. Idiot. As if glass would stop me. I threw up my hands. The glass glowed brilliant red and shattered. I jumped through the opening and spotted him running past a glass case. I ran full tilt after him, launching fireballs. One hit him square in the back and set his robe on fire. I was so focused on him that I didn’t see a woman walking toward me. Her high-heeled boot landed directly in front of me and I ran into her heel, a solid stacked wood thing that knocked me onto my rear. When she stepped away, the horen was moving again and the fire was out. A hand grabbed my arm as I struggled to stand up. I tried to shake it off, but it held tight and spun me around.

  “Mattie, what in the world are you doing?” asked Lysander. He held a large pink box with a gold bow in one hand and my arm in the other.

  “He’s getting away,” I yelled. “Let go.”

  “That’s a horen. I’m not letting you get near him.” His hand tightened on my arm.

  “I don’t want to hurt you!”

  I didn’t have to. Victory ran down my arm and bit Lysander’s hand so hard he remained attached when Lysander spun away screaming. I ran past him, throwing fireballs over the horen’s head to cut him off. He skidded to a halt and leapt onto a child’s leg. He slashed open her thick purple tights and pressed his claws against her pale skin.

  “Let me go or I’ll kill this girl!” he screamed.

  I stopped and, before I had to decide, the child’s hand swiped the horen right off her leg. He went flying through the air and landed in a heap next to a glass case filled with luscious cakes. He jumped to his feet and, instead of running away, he ran straight for me with his claws out, streams of venom flinging back over his shoulders as he went for me. I formed a fireball, but was knocked aside by Lysander. He jumped in front of me. His sides bellowed out. He flung open his arms, and great waves of sound flowed out from his mouth. The glass case shattered. The horen flew backward, skidding across the white tile floor, and ramming into the wall head first. He lay still as humans ran every which way. They screamed so much, it almost bothered my ears.

  Lysander’s sides deflated and he turned to me, his face oddly frightened.

  “You’re a teufel,” I said in a gasp.

  His lips trembled. “Yes. Half teufel.”

  I glanced at the limp horen and then flung myself into Lysander’s arms, kissing him hard on the lips. He pushed me back. “You don’t care?”

  “You stopped him. It’s the best thing ever. What are you doing here?”

  “Buying you a Sachertorte,” he said with a shy smile.

  I kissed him again. My first date was buying me a fancy cake. Did it get any better? I didn’t think so.

  Victory jumped onto my hand. “No kissing. Do it now before it wakes up.”

  “Do what?” asked Lysander.

  I ran past him to the horen and found him coming to. He blinked at the snapping flames in my hand. Then his nasty cat’s eyes narrowed. “You can’t. Fire won’t work.”

  He was right. It wouldn’t. I was more likely to burn the arm to a crisp than to sever it. The horen scooted away and smiled. “I’ll just be going now.”

  A huge wall of flame erupted next to him. “Not so fast,” I said.

  “What?” he yelled.

  “Never mind!” I yelled back.

  “What?” His ears were blown out.

  “Don’t move!”

  “What?”

  I put another wall of flame next to him, pinning him to the wall, and looked for a weapon. Not much available, except shards of glass. Maybe but the bone would be a problem.

  Lysander came up. “What’s going on? Let him go. You can’t kill him.”

  “I don’t need to kill him. I need his arm.”

  Lysander drew back in horror. “What?”

  “Another horen poisoned my sister. I need a piece of him to make the antidote,” I said.

  “You can’t just cut off his arm, even if he is a horen.”

  “I can’t if I can’t find a tool to do it.” I looked around. Just glass. I’d have to try it. I whipped off my cloak and picked up a good-sized shard. “Brace yourself, horen. This is going to hurt a lot.”

  “You can’t,” said Lysander.

  “I can and I will. I’d cut off his head to save Iris.”

  “That’s murder.”

  “That’s why I’m going to cut off his arm instead.”

  I stepped up t
o the now screaming horen and a strong breeze blew my hair in my face. I looked back and Penelope was flying up, her wide wings scattering glass shards. She tossed her head and something flew through the air toward me. I dropped the shard and caught it. Bentha’s favorite needle sword. I spun around and raised it.

  Lysander grabbed my arm. “No. This isn’t you.”

  “It’s exactly me.”

  “I won’t let you.”

  “Iris is dying. Nothing can stop me.” I looked into his eyes and saw not compassion for the horen but for me. He thought doing this would hurt me in some way. “Knock him out, if you want, but this is happening.”

  Lysander hesitated, but then nodded. His sides bellowed out again and in a quick burst the horen was unconscious. I picked up his right arm. It was thin and he wasn’t a terribly big horen to begin with. It wasn’t enough. There was the human mother to think of as well. She needed the antidote, too. I dropped the arm and settled on the left leg. Maybe this would hurt me in some way, but better me than Iris. The sword came down and the deed was done.

  Chapter Thirty-three

  I CHOSE THE master secretary and he wasn’t happy about it. But I needed help with the antidote and dwarves were known for strong stomachs. Pretty much nobody else was. Aoife threw up when I unwrapped the leg and dumped it into the cauldron. I have to admit that the master secretary got a little green around the edges when the toes flexed and started scratching the side of the cauldron. I told him it was normal, but it didn’t seem to help. Lysander couldn’t bear to be near the thing and Victory was busy handling prisoners, including the horen. He’d come through the amputation just fine, unfortunately, but the vile creature didn’t appreciate being trussed up and locked in a cage. He kept spraying venom through the bars until his claws were dry and everyone had to give him a wide berth.

  So everyone else was told to stay away to protect the easily grossed out. The master secretary stirred while I read the faded instructions in the old healer’s diary and tossed in the ingredients. We weren’t alone. Iris lay on the cardinal’s bed, bright yellow and unconscious, but still alive. The cardinal knelt at her side, deep in prayer. He was still desperately ill. My spell had stopped the poison from killing him, but it only took one look to know the damage was done. The cardinal would die and all the tea I could brew wouldn’t change it. His liver was done for.

  The master secretary waved at me through the thick golden smoke that was billowing out of the cauldron. “Mattie, you had better look at this.”

  I came to the edge of the big pot at the foot of the cardinal’s bed. The flesh of the leg had disintegrated and the skeletal remains were bobbing around in vibrant green goo. Bits of meat and skin came to the surface and then went under again. The master secretary made an involuntary horking motion.

  “Are you alright?” I asked.

  “Is it supposed to look like that?” he asked.

  “Yes. Sorry about the smoke. Is it turning your stomach?”

  “It’s not the smoke.” He swallowed hard. “How do you know it’s right?”

  “I’ve seen it before,” I said, measuring out a spoonful of the white poppy powder I’d found in Grandma Vi’s bag. It was the last ingredient and what changed the goo from a weapon into an antidote.

  “Where exactly? Who are you?” he asked.

  I supposed it didn’t matter anymore. There were dozens of witnesses to my fire during the fight in the cathedral. It wouldn’t take long before my name was known, but I still found it hard to give it up. The secret had become precious to me.

  “I won’t tell anyone,” he said, his expression changed to what passed for kindness in a dwarf.

  “It doesn’t matter. I was lucky to keep it quiet for as long as I did. I’m Matilda Whipplethorn and I’m a kindler.”

  “I gathered that when you lit the fire under this pot,” he said. “You’re a healer, too.”

  “Yes.”

  “You’ve been keeping the cardinal alive while the archduke was poisoning him.”

  “Yes, but I didn’t know he was being poisoned. I thought it was his liver,” I said.

  “Yet you were able to help him.”

  “The fire makes my spells and potions strong.” I held out the spoon with the powder and then dumped it in. Two stirs and the nasty acid green was gone, replaced by the lovely mossy color of healing. I put my hand in the bubbling liquid and the master secretary gasped and dropped his spoon.

  “It’s alright. I can make it better.” I stirred it, letting flames from my fingertips heat the potion, and ignored the bones bumping up against my skin.

  After five stirs the antidote began to glow. It was lovely and cast warm shadows around the room.

  “It’s ready.” I pulled out my arm and wiped it on a towel. Then I took one of Grandma’s medicine droppers and sucked up a good amount. It was still pretty hot, so I took the heat out with my hand before taking it to Iris. She’d grown worse in the time it took to brew the antidote and her breath was so shallow I could barely tell that she was breathing. I opened her mouth and dropped the whole amount in. It took some persuading, but she swallowed and a weird little shiver went through her body.

  “Is it working?” asked the master secretary.

  On the tip of Iris’s nose a little spot of normal color appeared and then began to spread down across her face.

  “Yes,” I said. “I think so.”

  The cardinal looked up from his clasped hands. “She is safe?”

  For now.

  “Yes, Your Grace.”

  The master secretary and I helped the cardinal to his chair and I gave him the last bit of his tea.

  “Maybe Iris should have it,” he said, holding out the cup.

  “You need it,” I said.

  “It doesn’t matter what happens to me. She is the future of Vienna.”

  The master secretary insisted he drink the tea. “It matters a great deal. You have chosen Iris, but her acceptance by the college of the cardinals isn’t certain.”

  I snorted. “They don’t allow girls.”

  “They certainly do, but she is a child. The Pope will have to see her before the cardinals have a chance to debate.”

  “What can they do about it?”

  “Nothing,” said the cardinal, closing his eyes.

  The master secretary put a blanket over his legs and motioned for me to leave with him. I laid my cloak over the bubbling cauldron, so no one would see the leg. I didn’t need to clean up any more vomit. He led me out the door and the hall was packed. Aoife and the rest of the kitchen staff was there with their hands clasped, along with some of the cathedral guard, Master Yik with Horc, docent staff, and most surprisingly the emperor, Nanny, Gerald, and a group of anubis. Victory stood on the emperor’s shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world to stand on royalty.

  “Well?” asked Aoife.

  The master secretary closed the door behind us. “The cardinal is much better.”

  “And my mother?” asked Victory

  “She has been given the antidote and will live.”

  Everyone looked at me and I blushed. It was so irritating. I’d done nothing wrong.

  “Can we see them?” asked Aoife. “We’ll be quiet.”

  The master secretary looked very grumpy, but agreed. The group went into the cardinal’s apartment and gathered around the bed and chair. The cardinal stayed asleep and so did Iris, even though her face was back to normal.

  Horc, Victory, and Gerald crawled onto the bed and whispered their love into Iris’s ears. She murmured back and a smile crossed her lips.

  Gerald turned to me. “What about the horen?”

  The emperor said, “He will be imprisoned at the Hallein salt mine for the rest of his unnatural life. I’ve already written the order.”

  Gerald shivered. “What if he escapes? No one’s ever held a horen prisoner for long.”

  The emperor smiled. It was a cold smile, but had a hint of the empress in it. “That’s only
because I haven’t tried it before. Hallein has never had an escape. The horen will be kept in the bowels of the mine under heavy guard.”

  “You won’t execute him?” I asked.

  He gave me a grim smile. “We may need more antidote. We can’t afford to lose the source.”

  “The empress was wrong. You can make the hard choices.”

  “Some choices aren’t hard,” he said.

  Gerald started to protest, but I held up my hand and then slipped Daiki’s amulet over my head. I went to the cauldron, lifted the cloak, and dipped the amulet in. It glowed green and I gave it to Gerald.

  “Just in case,” I said.

  He slipped the chain over his head and stopped shivering. “Just in case.”

  Everyone gathered around him to look at the glow. When they weren’t looking, I took my flask, filled it with antidote, and hid it in my skirt pocket.

  The emperor touched my arm. “Walk with me.”

  We stepped outside and he dismissed the anubis, who weren’t too happy about it. We walked down the hall. The smell of burnt horen was still in the air. The emperor wrinkled his nose, but I found I didn’t mind it. I was just glad to be alive to smell anything. When we were out of the anubis’s sight, I gave him the flask.

  “For the empress,” I said.

  “Will it work on her…condition?” he asked.

  “I don’t know, but, if it were my mother, I would try it.”

  He nodded and tucked the flask inside his waist coat. “I have an offer for you.”

  “Clemency, I hope?” I asked.

  He raised an eyebrow. “For what?”

  “I, um, killed your brother. He was trying to murder the cardinal.”

  “I know. Killian sent word to the empress.”

  “And…?”

  “He was killed by the horen in a heroic attempt to save the cardinal. That’s the official story. There’ll be a month of morning and then statues carved in his honor.”

  “Seriously?” I asked.

  “It’s how the empress wants it,” he said, his face tense.

  “That won’t help you any. He was already super popular. Now she makes him a hero. What about you?”