“Christine, please,” Whyborne said with an exasperated look. “Cousin, I assume from your message that the Endicotts are ready to take back the family estate? When we last saw you in February, you said it had fallen to the Fideles.”
“It has, and remains under their control.” Rupert’s full lips pressed into a thin line. He’d selected the sea bass au gratin, but only stared at it on his plate. “I’d hoped to return much sooner. But we’ve had a bit of a problem.”
“Which I take it is about to become our problem as well?” I inquired.
“Alas, Mr. Flaherty, you are correct.” He lifted his glass in my direction. “Perhaps I should start from the beginning.”
I watched him carefully, but his face remained schooled. “That’s usually for the best.”
He turned to Whyborne. “Did Theo and Fiona ever speak of Balefire Manor?”
An expression of discomfort spread over Whyborne’s face. Theo and Fiona Endicott had embraced him as one of their own, a lost cousin found again. Until they’d learned of his ketoi blood, upon which they’d decided to raise a tidal wave to destroy Widdershins. Whyborne and Persephone had fought them; it hadn’t ended well for either Endicott.
As with Stanford, Whyborne hadn’t been left with a choice. But Rupert had surely known Theo and Fiona—had no doubt mourned their deaths, along with the rest of the family.
“No.” Whyborne set to cutting up his fish into smaller and smaller pieces. “I take it that’s the name of the family seat?”
“Given to us by the crown in 1498, after the Cornish Rebellion.” Rupert folded his hands before him on the table. “For services rendered, one could say. Balefire was the name we gave to the manor house we built on the estate. It stands on Carn Moreth, a tidal island intermittently connected with the headland of Penmoreth.”
He paused to remove his spectacles and draw out a handkerchief to clean them with. “Last December, on the longest night of the year, we lost all contact with Balefire Manor and Carn Moreth. No one has left the island since. Anyone who tries to reach the island by crossing the causeway during low tide gets about halfway—then suddenly finds themselves walking back toward the headland with no memory of having turned around. We tried going by ship, of course, but the local ketoi somehow learned of our troubles and decided to take advantage of our temporary weakness. The waters between Seven Stones Reef and Carn Moreth are impassable now thanks to them.”
“Do you think they’re helping the Fideles?” I asked. The cult wished to complete the Restoration and return the masters to our world, presumably in exchange for personal power. Though at least one of them, Mrs. Creigh, believed cooperation now was the only means to ensure the survival of any part of humanity later.
Whyborne frowned at me. “The ketoi wouldn’t do that.”
“Persephone contended with traitors among her people,” I reminded him. “There’s no reason to believe the Cornish ketoi wouldn’t have such problems as well.”
“God knows, I would prefer to blame this all on the ketoi,” Rupert said. “But our feud with them is long, and there seems to be no connection. The unfortunate truth is, it would take one of our own blood to lower the enchantments that kept Balefire safe. A member of the family must have been the one to hand control of Balefire over to the Fideles.”
“This traitor you mentioned.” Having scraped her own plate clean Christine leaned across the table and speared a piece of asparagus from Whyborne’s. “You weren’t going to eat this, were you?”
Whyborne made a face and edged his plate in her direction. “Help yourself.”
Rupert put his spectacles back on and carefully straightened them. “Balefire has stood for over five-hundred years and never fallen to an enemy.”
“Of which you’ve made quite a few,” I observed. “Are you certain the Fideles are the ones who have taken Balefire from you? You’ve hardly made yourself popular with other sorcerers.”
“Abominations and traitors who consorted with the Outside,” Rupert snapped. Then he caught himself and took a deep breath. “I will not apologize for what the Endicotts stand for. We are the shield set between the human race and the forces of darkness. But I regret calling you an abomination, Cousin.”
Whyborne made an impatient gesture. “Yes, yes. I’ve been called worse many times. A…colleague…from another museum who disagreed with a translation once referred to me as a ‘rich dilettante, who can barely distinguish Akkadian from Aramaic.’”
A smile curved Rupert’s mouth for the first time. “How vicious. As for why we believe it is the Fideles who took Balefire, I can only tell you those who seek the Restoration have good reason to be interested in Carn Moreth.”
More secrets. I pushed my plate away. Christine snatched the remains of my roll from it. “What sort of defenses are we talking about?”
“Again, I must beg your indulgence, but the Seeker would nail my hide to the gates as a warning to future generations if I answered that,” Rupert said. “But I assure you, whoever has done this had to have been inside them at the time.”
“So we’re to go blind into this?” I asked, at the same moment Iskander said, “The Seeker?”
Rupert seemed to struggle a moment; no doubt this was one of the things Endicotts didn’t care to speak of to anyone outside the family. “We Endicotts have two heads of household, one might say. The Keeper of Secrets and the Seeker of Truth. Though in this case they are brother and sister—twins—the position isn’t hereditary. Rather, they are chosen from the strongest in magic, but also by disposition. It would do the family no good to have a powerful sorcerer with access to every secret and weapon, if he were also mad for power and cared nothing for the rest of us.”
“And what exactly do these titles mean?” Whyborne asked with a frown.
“The Keeper of Secrets remains at the estate at all times. Once elected to the position, he or she never leaves Balefire Manor again. The Seeker is often at the estate, but her duty includes travel if necessary to uncover…whatever it is she seeks to uncover. The locations of monsters to be eradicated, the houses of bloodlines similar to our own, some arcane artifact which must be brought under our protection.”
Whyborne snorted. “Your protection. What a quaint way to refer to hoarding magical weapons.”
“It keeps such instruments out of the hands of those who would use them against the human race,” Rupert snapped.
“And now this arcane armory is in the hands of the Fideles,” I said. “I suppose you can’t tell us what precisely was in it, either?”
“I don’t know everything myself. And even if I did…”
“You wouldn’t be allowed to say.” I was liking this less and less. “So you don’t know what happened? No one has come in or out of the estate for almost six months?”
“We have a constant watch set on Penmoreth. There’s been nothing. And telescopes and the like aren’t…useful…for observing the estate more closely.”
“Part of the defenses, I assume.” Whyborne sat back in his chair, his expression shuttered. “What precisely do you want from me, Mr. Endicott? I assume you’re at least allowed to say that.”
Rupert didn’t rise to the bait. “The Seeker wishes to take Balefire back from the Fideles. Rescue the Keeper.”
“Assuming he’s even alive,” Christine said. “If no one has come in or out, what are they doing for provisions? Food and water?”
“Do you really think we never planned for a siege?” Rupert asked.
“Oh, yes, doesn’t everyone?” Whyborne muttered. “I can’t imagine why Father never put a well into the basement of Whyborne House. I suppose the wine cellar would have to do.”
“If the heart of the maelstrom was within some sort of fortification, you wouldn’t have had to battle the Fideles in the streets last summer,” Rupert pointed out.
Whyborne scowled. “Or they might have taken and held it, as they have Balefire.”
“There’s no point in arguing,” Iskander said. “Mr. Endi
cott, how does your Seeker intend to take back the estate?”
Rupert looked pained. “I can’t—”
“Say,” I finished for him. “Why didn’t the Seeker come herself? If securing Whyborne’s cooperation is so important to the Endicotts, surely she could do us the courtesy of speaking with him directly.”
To my surprise, Rupert only chuckled. “She’s not a young woman, Mr. Flaherty, and is used to having things her way. You’ll understand better when you meet her.”
“And where and when will this be?” Whyborne asked suspiciously.
“We have a three-masted schooner docked in Widdershins now. It will take us from here to the Isles of Scilly, off the coast of Cornwall. What remains of the family is gathering there.”
Christine finally put down her fork. “You’re asking a great deal of us. The last time we saw you, Miss Endicott was threatening to slit Whyborne’s throat. Why should we leave with you, when you won’t tell us anything? Surely it would make more sense for Whyborne to remain here, in case the masters return.”
“If you want any hope of fighting them, the Wisborg Codex is the key,” Rupert replied. “As for Hattie’s actions…I will not lie to you, Dr. Whyborne. There are other members of the family who do not trust you. Who believe we would be better off fighting this battle ourselves. They have argued very strongly against bringing a being such as yourself onto the estate and into proximity of the magical artifacts gathered there.”
I tightened my grip on my wine glass. “Whyborne is a person, not a ‘being.’”
“I meant no offense.” Rupert inclined his head to Whyborne. “But let us not pretend you’re human. I was there when you fought your brother in the Draakenwood. My advice to the family has been to respect you, and give you no reason to turn your wrath against us.” Rupert lifted one shoulder in a half shrug. “Needless to say, not everyone agrees with my assessment. The Seeker believes the risk is one that must be taken.”
“How flattering.” Whyborne folded his arms over his chest and hunched his shoulders. “I can’t wait to meet the rest of the family.”
“We’re going, then?” Christine asked with a frown. “How certain are you we actually need the Codex?”
“The invitation was only extended to Dr. Whyborne,” Rupert said.
“If you lot think the rest of us aren’t going with him, you’re delusional,” Christine replied bluntly.
“I’m not convinced any of us should go.” I glanced at Whyborne. “With all due respect, Mr. Endicott, you have avoided giving us any particulars—under orders from the Seeker, but that doesn’t change the fact you’re asking us to leave Widdershins with no real idea of what we can expect to face.”
“I know.” Rupert sighed heavily. “If you’d like to discuss things further, I’m staying aboard ship—the Melusine. And I have one more thing to ask of you. Or rather, of your sister, Dr. Whyborne.”
Whyborne frowned. “Persephone? What do you want from her?”
“We need her to dispatch her most trusted diplomat with us.” He paused. “After four-hundred years of war, the Endicotts wish to broker a treaty with the ketoi of Cornwall.”
Chapter 4
Whyborne
“If the Endicotts think Persephone will help them convince the ketoi to end the war, they’re mad,” I said to Griffin, when we returned home.
“Mad, no. Desperate, yes.” He locked the door, while our cat Saul twined first around his ankles, then mine, leaving behind a film of orange fur on our trousers.
“They’ve killed countless ketoi over the centuries. And hybrids.” I scowled. “And ruined Mother’s health for decades, and nearly murdered Persephone and me.”
Before I knew of my heritage, Theo and Fiona Endicott had related how a number of our family members had died in a ritual gone wrong. The Endicotts tried dark sorcery on a ketoi prisoner, hoping to kill anyone who shared its bloodline. I didn’t know the identity of their victim, but they had been a relative, however distant. The spell had nearly cost Mother her life and caused her to deliver Persephone and me into the world early.
Mother’s health had been ruined as a result, and I’d been a sickly child, seeming to succumb to every cough or ague. The Endicotts would have been pleased if they’d known; they had no pity for ketoi, and even less for those of us they considered hybrid abominations.
And that was even before they’d tried to overwhelm Widdershins with a tidal wave.
I made my way upstairs and slumped into a seat by the cold hearth. “Why does everyone in my family want to kill people? Don’t I have any non-murderous relatives?”
“Your mother?” Griffin suggested. He poured us each a tumbler of brandy, then came and sat beside me on the couch. “Persephone?”
“Persephone sawed off Dives Deep’s head in front of the rest of the museum staff and most of our donors,” I said sourly. “I know Persephone had to kill her to secure the chieftainship, but did she have to be so…so excessive?”
“At any rate, I’m not at all certain we should go with Rupert.” Griffin leaned against me. “Not without knowing more about what we’ll face. We won’t exactly be leaving Widdershins unguarded, but…”
He trailed off. Persephone would still be here, but the two of us were far more powerful together. If the masters came through the veil while I was gone…
The Wisborg Codex could surely tell us when they would make their appearance. With luck, it held within its pages the secret to defeating them. But the code it was written in had proved uncrackable to every method I’d applied.
“The masters are unlike anything we’ve ever faced,” I said at last. “They created the ketoi and the umbrae. The rust. The maelstrom itself, when Nyarlathotep shaped the arcane lines at their command.”
“You do realize the Endicotts may have no plans to hold up their end of the bargain,” Griffin said. “They’re likely to turn on us the moment we’re of no use to them.”
“They’ll wait until after the masters are defeated to do that.” I swirled the brandy in my glass, then drained it in a gulp. “Dr. Hart won’t be happy if I ask for leave yet again.”
“If you believe this is the only course we can take, I think the director will understand.” Griffin finished his own drink and put it aside. “Tell him you’re studying Cornish.”
I frowned. “It’s a bit outside of my normal purview. The language itself is extinct, or nearly so, though there are murmurings of an attempt at revival in the linguistic journals.” But a serious attempt would mean finding anyone who still spoke even a few words, and I doubted the director would believe I’d voluntarily track down strangers to talk to them. “The museum does have a copy of Pryce’s Archaeologia Cornu-Britannica—”
Griffin pressed his lips to mine, silencing me. “We’ve talked enough for one night, my dear. I have a better use for that clever tongue of yours,” he murmured when the kiss was done.
I smiled, and my heart lightened unexpectedly. No matter what other worries plagued me, there was always this. Us.
Joy.
“Do you now?” I shifted off the couch and onto my knees. “Does it involve me at your feet?”
His breathing thickened. “It does indeed.”
I shed my coat and vest, then slid my hands teasingly up his thighs, feeling the curve of muscle beneath cloth warmed by his skin. A breeze blew through the open window, chasing away the summer heat that tended to collect on the second story. His erection already began to tent his trousers, and my own body responded to the sight.
I took my time, slowly undoing each button. Watching him watch me, his green eyes dark with desire. I teased him a bit, rubbing his cock through the soft cotton of his drawers. The tip of his tongue touched his lip, and he whispered my name.
When I’d made him wait long enough, I tugged down his drawers and pulled his prick free. The familiar feel of the silky skin against my lips thrilled me, and I swallowed him down slowly. His hand gripped my hair, and his breathing grew heavier still.
> After all our years together, I knew him well enough to play his desire like an instrument. Faster, then slower; a pause here, a quick lick there. I drew myself out and stroked an accompaniment, sometimes lazily, sometimes faster, until the taste of him sharpened in my mouth. Then I set myself to the task, his moans and pleas driving my own lust higher, until his hips arched off the couch and his hand clenched in my hair.
I let him slip from my mouth, pressed my face into his trembling thigh, and let ecstasy crest through me as well. “Yes, my dear, let me see you,” he said, and I tipped my head back, raw and vulnerable, shuddering as I came.
He traced a thumb over my lower lip, then kissed me. “My Ival.”
“Always.”
He drew me onto the couch beside him, and we twined into a sated tangle of limbs. The curtain billowed in the breeze, and fireflies danced in the backyard beyond. “I love you,” Griffin said, trailing his fingers through my hair. It needed cut, but I’d been too busy to attend to it as of late, so the locks stuck out in all directions. “I trust your judgment. Just…be cautious of the Endicotts. Please. Even if Rupert is honest, I fear those he answers to may have no intention of honoring any bargain with you.”
“Agreed,” I said ruefully. “But as you said, enough for tonight. All of our problems will still be waiting in the morning.”
“Unfortunately,” he agreed, and led the way to our bedroom.
Chapter 5
Whyborne
It was strange how routine waiting for the world to end could become.
The next morning after breakfast, I went to my employment at the Ladysmith Museum, just as I had nearly every day for the last nine years. The guards nodded to me, as did some of my colleagues, while the hadrosaur skeleton in the grand foyer loomed silently over us all. I passed through the exhibit halls and through a staff door, to my office.
My original office had been in the basement; though my status had changed, the work remained largely the same. Scraps of cuneiform tablets waited to be pieced together, a half-written paper begged me to complete it, and piles of correspondence from my philological colleagues around the globe silently accused me of neglect.
Balefire Page 2
