Nightfell Games (The Dashkova Memoirs Book 5)

by Thomas K. Carpenter

  My reply died in my throat when I saw a tall figure with antlers standing a ways up the street in the shadows. Only the errant beam of a soldier's lantern had revealed its presence. A suspicion formed in my tired mind, so I put my hand on Ben's arm.

  "I'm afraid I might know what's going on," I said.

  Ben followed my gaze, his brow knitting as he turned. With a purposeful stride, I headed directly towards the antlered figure. When it realized I was in pursuit, it leapt away, taking long, loping strides that quickly outpaced me.

  Not to be outdone, I used my magic to speed my pursuit, using it as I had in the Sky Lands, moving as if I was running down a steep incline, each step devouring ten or twenty feet. The creature made backwards glances but kept on a straight line, right towards the water plant on the Schuylkill River.

  When we reached it, the antlered figure stopped beneath a barren wide-limbed oak and waited for my approach. Dappled moonlight rippled across the broad-shouldered figure, giving the cloak she wore leopard spots. I knew who it was when I realized the antlers were fixed onto a steel helm.

  "Aren't you rather far from your realm, Moist Mother Earth?" I asked, looking up at her smooth face sticking out of the open-faced helm.

  Matka pulled the antlered helmet off her head and tucked it beneath her arm. Her brown hair was molded to her head. "I've never been fond of that name."

  "Names have never been for the people that own them, but for others to lay claim on us," I said.

  "Wise words from a woman with many names, some I assume she despises," said Matka, amusement lurking on her lips.

  "It was you behind the plague. Not Neva. Why?" I asked.

  Her eyes flickered to the True Caul hanging from my fist at my side. I'd almost forgotten about it.

  "It was always Neva, though I may have put the idea into her head at one point. But when she found out about the nokke, I had to complete it for her," said Matka.

  "But why?" I asked. "The soldier at the Water Works. They're going to kill him."

  "People will always hate," said Matka. "Trying to make everyone look the same won't solve that problem. I'm helping them be who they really are."

  "The plague of monsters will destroy the city," I said.

  "It won't be your so-called monsters that will destroy it," she said, then held up a hand to silence my reply. "Think about that before you make up your mind."

  I thought for a moment before coming to a conclusion. "How long will it take for them to turn?"

  A smile twinkled into her eyes. "It depends on how much of the potion they drank, which depends on the dilution. It also depends on how much of their Otherlandness they carry. Not everyone who has an ancestor will turn. But for others, like the soldier, it will happen immediately. Then again, it might take a week."

  "Dilution," I muttered, then ran towards the water mill. I found the barrels near the sluice. They were empty, the stoppers discarded onto the floor. Matka had poured the potion into the inlet for the Water Works, bypassing the soldiers.

  Matka was waiting for me when I made it back outside. She was watching me like a teacher would its student when they were working through a problem.

  "This war with Russia," she said. "It's not the members of your former home you have to worry about."

  "Right now I have to worry about a city full of people turning into creatures that will try to eat their fellow citizens," I growled.

  Matka made a disapproving click of her tongue. "Well then. I guess you should be attending to that problem."

  I turned my back on the goddess, but remembered the True Caul in my hand. I stared at the shimmering fabric, gripping it tightly. I turned back around and thrust it towards Matka.

  "Here," I said. "You should take this back."

  "You earned it fairly," said Matka, "though you used it unwisely."

  "For that I shouldn't keep it. I never should have given it to Neva," I said, shaking the artifact, imploring her to take it before I changed my mind. "Furthermore, when she returns, she'll want it back, and it's clear that she fears you enough not to retrieve it on her own."

  "Are you certain?" asked Matka with an eyebrow raised.

  "No," I said, "but take it anyway before I change my mind."

  The kernel of a smile twitched onto her lips, before she gracefully accepted the True Caul. "I shall hold it for you, until such time that you need it again. How does that sound?"

  Her generosity confused me, but I nodded. "I must be getting back."

  I took a few steps in an easterly direction and when I glanced back, she was gone. When I reached the Water Works, the Vice President, Simon Snyder, was standing outside speaking with the army major. He was wearing trousers under his nightshirt and his dusty brown hair was askew. It was still difficult for me to comprehend that he was the Vice President.

  Ben was standing near the steam carriage, looking like a petulant child who wasn't allowed at the adult table. He was kicking a clod of dirt while his arms were crossed. Upon seeing me, Simon broke away from his conversation with the army major.

  "I should have known you were a part of this," said Simon, frowning.

  "We're all a part of this," I reminded him.

  "Despite your assurances, Temple," said Simon, "the major is reluctant to believe your story due to its nature."

  "His belief is about to be challenged," I said, "because the city's water supply has been tainted."

  "Everyone's going to turn into one of those creatures?" asked Simon.

  "No. Only those who have ancestors that lived in Otherland," I said.

  Simon jammed his hand into his hair and tugged. "That's terrible news."

  "I...am not sure," I said. "We might be able to turn this to our advantage."

  "Did you shove your head into a beer barrel while you ran up the street?" asked Ben.

  "You told me before that we need allies. Some of these people are going to find out they have magic and powers that we need to fight back," I said, realizing what Matka had implied. "America is stronger because of its immigrants, who each bring different skills. How can this be any different?"

  Ben and Simon looked skeptical, so I continued. "Either way, this is happening, and there's nothing we can do to stop it. The potion's been in the water system for hours. We need to find a way to help the people who turn."

  Reluctantly, Simon nodded. "I'll have the army mobilize and spread out into the city. They can keep mobs from forming and attend to any sudden monstrous appearances. The city constables can help, too. I know a few people there."

  "A wise direction," said Ben, then he turned to me. "What can we do, Kat? You seem to have a good grasp on the situation."

  I picked dried mud from my cheek and thought about Nell's struggles to accept the change. The girl had hidden from her family for fear of rejection, and that she might drown them. Which had proved true when she killed her brother Bram.

  Despite what Matka might have intended, this plague was going to be difficult to manage. No matter how many times it'd been said that America was a country of immigrants, those that had established roots did not want to welcome the newcomers. It'd be doubly worse considering those that turned wouldn't look like them.

  "The army will save people from each other, but we have to save them from themselves. Waking up as a monster will thoroughly challenge their hold on reality. They may embrace what they think they are, rather than remain their former selves," I said.

  Ben raised a questioning eyebrow. "How shall we do that?"

  I held my breath for a moment, at first not daring to speak my mind, then realizing there was no other way.

  "The truth must be revealed," I said.

  "Which truths?" asked Ben, tight-lipped. "There are many we hold dearly."

  "About Otherland, magic, and why people are turning," I said. "We can put it in a pamphlet and spread it around the city. It's too late to hide this anymore."

  "I plan on having a long talk with George when I see him," said Simon, nodding.<
br />
  "George?" I asked, laughing. "Are we on a first name basis now?"

  "No thanks to you," he said. "Every day I wake up and miss being a simple constable."

  "Quiet your flirting, you two," said Ben, suddenly cross. "This is an important decision. I'm trying to work it all out."

  Though his youthful face had none of the ravages of time, his expression was that of a furious elder about to lay judgment. After a few minutes of mumbling, Ben sighed heavily, shaking his head.

  "I'm afraid you're right, Kat. There's no other way. Gift or curse, the monsters are coming. We have to deal with that now, or we'll have nothing left to come back to later," he said.

  "They're not monsters," I said. "They're people."

  Ben blinked a few times, then bowed with the grace of apology.

  "Then we are agreed?" asked Simon.

  We shared nods and returned to the estate. Ben worked on the missive while I readied the printing press he kept in an attached building. Having never worked on one, Nasrine acted as my assistant. She was a quick learner and nimble fingered, and before long, she was setting the first lines.

  By early morning we had a few hundred copies ready. Nasrine and the others went out into the city with arms full, coming back for more pamphlets every few hours. By the afternoon, we'd blanketed the city with our message. Once that was finished, I collapsed next to the press. At some point, someone carried me into my room and placed me in bed. I didn't know what kind of Philadelphia I was going to wake up to.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  December brought heavy snows forcing Philadelphia's residents to remain at home, which was a boon to our cause. There were a few tragedies, deaths that could have been otherwise avoided, but the lack of interactions kept the city's citizens from murdering each other. Once President Washington understood the problem, he'd mobilized the government under martial law, which had reduced the number of deaths amongst the changed and unchanged.

  Over four hundred people had turned, that we knew of. The most common were the hrevanti, whose ranks had grown by a couple of dozen. A handful of residents had scaly faces and tortoise shell skin like Zentrii, while others were uncategorizable. Many had fled the city for fear of lynching before they could be accounted for.

  I was sitting inside the parlor at the estate when Ben Franklin returned from a trip north. Frost caked the windows and gusting winds threw snow against the building and made the candles flicker from the ill-fitting windows. They'd never been right after I'd flown the cauldron through them.

  After stomping fresh snow from his boots and rubbing his hands together as he blew breath into them, Ben struggled out of his winter coat and joined me in the parlor.

  "How is Nell?" I asked, studying him passively.

  He pulled the fur hat from his head and knocked the frost from his hair. "Well enough. The hot springs will provide a good, safe place to winter. I think we can have a cottage built in the spring nearby."

  He stared at the frosted windows, quietly brooding.

  "You can't blame yourself, Ben. You couldn't have known what she could do. Blazes, you didn't even know why Neva wanted her the first time," I said.

  His lips soured and he squeezed his eyes shut. "No matter how long she lives, she'll carry the death of that boy, Bram, with her."

  "Time heals, or at least it distracts us with new problems," I offered.

  He arched an eyebrow. "Any changes in the city?"

  "A couple of soldiers were checking on a little old lady whose neighbors hadn't heard from her in a while. When they knocked down the door, they found a winged jackal that nearly tore off their faces. I think it was a garguiem, and we're not sure where she flew to. She won't get far in this storm, which worries me. But otherwise, Simon reports that the majority of turns have been peaceful. The Quakers opened their church for the hrevanti to meet and discuss the implications of their new lives."

  "Anyone with useable talents?"

  "Nothing worth mentioning. It might be that anyone like me hasn't figured out how to tap into it yet. It took me some time and practice," I said.

  "We'll have to keep an eye out. I'm sure the spring will be busy," he said.

  "If we're here for the spring," I said.

  He pulled a handkerchief from a pocket and dabbed his irritated nose. "It worries me that we haven't seen Morwen yet. But then again, I don't know how their arrangement works and how Neva's battle with that creature affected her."

  "I think we'll see her before the snows melt," I said.

  He tilted his head. "Prophecy?"

  I half-shrugged and made a gesture with my hand. "Intuition? Maybe it's the prophecy, but I don't know. I'm starting to wonder what use it is. It warned me about the plague of monsters, but I could do nothing to stop it."

  "Didn't Rowan say that a strong will can bend a prophecy to their needs? I think you accomplished that when you blunted the chaos by convincing us to accept them as immigrants rather than monsters," he said.

  "Which isn't much. Immigrants are treated like second-class citizens even now. The Otherlanders will be treated worse," I said.

  "Better than dead," Ben said grimly.

  I sighed.

  "Where are the others?" asked Ben.

  "Nasrine is helping Djata with something they're making in the Thornveld. Voltaire and Brassy are setting the type for the latest pamphlet, and I'm not sure what Aught is doing," I said.

  "And you were waiting for me?" he asked with an impish grin.

  "You'd like that, wouldn't you?" I said, returning the best imitation of a Ben Franklin wink I could muster. "But no, I'd been up all night writing that missive and I was laying down for a nap, when a premonition hit me that I needed to be in the parlor. And no, it's not the prophecy. This is something different, a message I think."

  At that moment, a steam carriage went down the street, illuminating the sidewalk. Standing in the swirling snows was a tall figure with antlers and a gray cloak around her shoulders. Ben followed my gaze and squinted, trying to see through the glare, but the brief glimpse was gone.

  I hooked my fur-lined cloak with two fingers and threw it around my shoulders as I marched to the door. Ben opened his mouth to speak, but sensed my tension and nodded, before going deeper into the house. Probably for a cup of hot tea.

  The cloak's protection did little against the swirling winds that whipped the fabric around my body and snuck freezing air into a hundred gaps in my clothing. The path required high steps, as drifts had piled up against the iron fence, reminding me of winters in Moscow.

  When I reached the street, I feared Matka was gone, but then I saw a light flicker in the alleyway. When I stepped inside, the wind died and breathing the cold air was no longer painful. The snows swirled right outside the alleyway, but did not pass the threshold.

  The goddess waited at the end of the alleyway, which did not end in a brick wall. A dank cave opening that smelled like loamy soil went into the earth.

  "Katerina," said Matka, removing the antlered helm from her head and tucking it under an arm. Her hair was contained within a thick braid that hung over her shoulder. The brightly patterned overcoat over her dress reminded me of a Mongolian bride. A flash of the diadem revealed itself before hiding beneath its glamour.

  "Is that how you travel?" I asked, nodding towards the opening.

  "This realm and mine are closely linked, though time has stretched the boundaries. Once, I could walk anywhere in your world I wanted with barely a thought to cross the boundary, but now it takes more effort. One day, I will no longer be able to cross," she said.

  "Is your realm at risk of ending like Veles and Perun’s?" I asked.

  "Everything dies in the end," she said. "Mine is not as old as theirs, nor have I abused it like they have, so it'll be a while longer."

  "And you will go quietly?" I asked.

  Her face broke into a smile, while her broad shoulders bounced with a chuckle. "Who's to say how I will feel when the end comes upon me. I would
like to tell you that I would accept my fate willingly, but until that day, I will never truly know."

  "You didn't bring me here to discuss that day," I said.

  She stepped forward, a towering mass of woman, and leaned down to place her lips against my forehead as if I were a child. After she straightened, she took a deep breath as if she had bad news.

  "You are a stubborn woman," she said.

  From anyone else, I would have taken it as an insult. From her it seemed like faint praise.

  "Only when I believe in something," I said. "Which makes me right, not stubborn."

  Matka's eyebrows flashed upward for a moment. "These events here. Between America and Russia. Between Perun and Veles. They have implications for all the realms connected to this one."

  "Whose side do you fall on?" I asked.

  "My own," she replied quickly, then paced away. She gave me a meaningful glance over her shoulder. "Have you wondered why everyone always says that they expected you to be on the other side, the side of Russia and Veles? Have you?"

  "Because of my heritage, I assume," I said. "But who you decide to be is stronger than who you were born to be."

  "It wasn't your heritage," she said. "It's something much stronger."

  "It won't change my mind. No matter what it is," I said. "And if it's so powerful, why haven't they told me? Why wouldn't they tell me, so I would change sides?"

  "Because they were forbidden to," said Matka. "But I have no such bindings on me."

  "Then tell me. Tell me now," I said.

  "Only if you want to know," she said. "You might be better off not knowing, for now. Or it might help you with the coming journey, to know so you can protect yourself."

  "Stop playing games, Matka, and tell me. You didn't come all this way to keep silent," I said, crossing my arms.

  The goddess gave me a wicked smile and leaned in close like she was telling a secret. Her lips stayed pressed together until I leaned forward.

  When she spoke, the words burst through my eardrums like a gunshot.

  "Catherine is alive."