“The conglomeration makes everything possible. I’ll create a special ink using the conglomeration mixed with my blood. I’ll use that ink to create your new tattoo. That tattoo should spark a reconnection to the aether. Just as it did for the key.”
“Just how much blood?” His eyes narrowed.
“Barely a vial. I draw more than that from Imogen on a weekly basis.”
Simon stopped in the hallway. “It’s still blood magic, Kate. It’s Ash’s magic.”
Kate grunted with frustration and turned back toward him. “Ash didn’t get where she is by being an idiot. She was right that blood is the path back to aether. And the blood of someone who loves you is more powerful in its essence. However, the difference between us and Ash is that she’s a glutton, wasteful. Her original spell worked by converting blood into a new substance, but it’s how you use it that defines it. Ash uses necromancy to achieve her effect. I don’t intend to do that. I’ll be using your own scribing and my alchemy to do the deed. The blood aspect is only a small piece of a larger new spell that I’ve crafted.”
“Then why is it dangerous?”
Kate smiled dismissively. “Because the blood will forge a bond between us. The spell will use my blood, or more accurately my essence, to reconnect you. You will actually be using me as a conduit to draw energy into you. Once you absorb enough aether, your own link to magic will be restored, and you will need to break the connection between us.”
“Or?” Simon’s face was stern.
“Or you could drain my life.”
“If you die because of me, then I will be no better than Ash.”
Kate’s chin lifted. “Then don’t let me die.”
He drew a deep breath. “Your confidence in me is bracing.”
“Simon, stop hesitating. There is no time for doubt. You know as well as I that our best hope of defeating Gaios is your inscription abilities. We know he’s out there somewhere seeking the Stone. How can you even stand to wait another minute? We’re running out of time. All of Britain is running out of time.”
Kate had him and he knew it. If Gaios had only been stalking Ash, Simon would’ve been able to walk away from this proposal. With the whole nation at stake, neither of them had a choice. And as Kate so often proved there were ways to circumvent blockades. How long before Gaios found a way to his goal with or without the Stone?
Simon stared into her eyes, which were fired by determination and hope. How could one not feed off that energy and not believe in her? “No time to waste then.”
Kate exhaled the breath she had been holding; her argument finally won. She took his hand and led him down the hall to her laboratory. Malcolm, Nick, and Penny stood just outside as if waiting all along.
“So you’re going through with it then?” Nick asked, stifling a yawn. It was early for him.
“It’s foolproof.” Simon’s face was set in stone.
Malcolm regarded him. “You’re content using blood magic?”
“We’re not going through all that again,” Kate countered in exasperation.
Simon shrugged with mock helplessness. “She has gone to a great deal of trouble after all. It would be a shame to stop now.”
“As always, you’re too glib by half,” the Scotsman muttered. “This is why I hate magic. It’s too damn murky.”
Kate forged on into her domain. Nick and Penny followed her into the laboratory. But Simon lingered outside near Malcolm. His voice dropped to a mere whisper.
“Malcolm, if things go awry and Kate is in danger…you need to take me out of the equation. Do you understand?”
Malcolm’s dark eyes lifted. “Why not ask Barker? He’s your best mate.”
“He might not make the right choice between me and Kate. You will.”
There was a long pause, but finally the Scotsman nodded sharply. Simon breathed easier and clapped Malcolm on the arm.
Apparatus in Kate’s laboratory already bubbled and toiled. Sharp morning sun sliced through the French windows. Kate turned when Simon entered, waving him to a cleared table. “Take off your shirt and lie down there.”
His eyebrow rose with a bawdy grin, but she was immune to distraction now that they had begun her ritual. “Please. This is science.”
Simon sighed. “Even Isaac Newton enjoyed the fruits of his labor.”
“When this is all said and done, I’ll be happy to drop an apple on you.”
“I’ll take that as a metaphor for something.” Simon brightened, removing his shirt with a flourish and flinging it across the room. His body was muscular with white scars crisscrossing his flesh. Where once his arms and torso had been covered with dark runes of ink, now he was a blank canvas. He examined a tattooing kit resting on the table, a wooden box covered with intricate carvings. Old shamans of untold experience in remote villages across the globe had incised his previous tattoos. The thought of Kate inking his flesh sent an erotic shiver through his body. He lay back upon the table, his eyes never leaving her.
“Cold?” she asked, running a light hand boldly over his bare chest though she was still regarding him rather clinically.
“No,” he said quietly. “Warm.”
Kate finally looked at his face and smiled. “I’m not an expert at tattooing. This may come off looking like one of Charlotte’s little stick figures.”
“That will be fine.” His voice was low, coming from deep in his chest.
She swallowed with more effort than usual. “Anyplace in particular you wish me to put it?”
He smiled darkly. “I can think of several.”
Penny giggled from across the room and Kate’s lips pursed. “You’re such a romantic.”
“That’s a polite way of saying it.”
She slapped his arm gently and he grabbed her hand, drawing it down to his left breast. “Here. Where it can be guided by the beating of my heart. Like blood, the heart is a powerful organ that will aid in the creation and dissemination of the aether.”
Kate’s fingers brushed his chest gently and then she leaned over to kiss it. Simon couldn’t help but draw in a sharp breath. She moved up and kissed his lips slowly. Then she pulled away. “Excuse me, but I have important tasks to attend. The conglomeration is almost complete.”
“I love it when you talk alchemy.”
“If I don’t finish the preparations just so, it will be worthless.” She went to the opposite table. “And you will have removed your shirt for no reason but to expose your immense self-satisfaction.”
“Reason enough.” Simon watched Kate’s sure hands manipulate tubes and flames and beakers and jars full of unknown materials. She worked as if playing a well-worn concerto. No hesitation. No doubt. And yet, despite practiced movements, he could tell from the slight wrinkles at the corners of her eyes that she was nervous and a little unsure.
Malcolm slipped inside the room and stood in the far corner. While Kate was working, Penny arranged a chair by Simon’s bedside for Kate to steady herself while doing the tattoo. She opened the wooden box. Inside were long thin tubes of bamboo tipped with rows of needles laid out in a line. The interior of the box had an indentation for the ink. Soon clean cloth strips and a bowl of water were placed next to Simon.
A stone mortar and pestle sat on the table nearest Kate, along with other odd bits of cinder and ink. The conglomeration was still in a liquid form, but it would solidify soon enough so she had to move quickly. She began combining elements, adding alcohol to act as a carrier from the needle to the skin. At last, she held a vial of her blood over the conglomeration. The minute she poured the blood into the stone bowl, the black inky mixture absorbed it with an inhaling hiss.
Kate carefully brought the heated amalgam over to the table and set it beside the tattooing needles. Her eyes met Simon’s. “Are you ready?”
Simon almost said no, but he knew Kate believed this was the right path. And she was a genius. He exchanged a glance with Malcolm, whose stern countenance put him at ease. Simon nodded.
Kate used one hand to steady and stretch the skin of Simon’s bare chest. Making use of the spread of her fingers, she rested the base of the rod onto her thumb and began to rhythmically pierce the skin, injecting the powerful ink with each tap. Simon breathed in and out slowly despite the sharp and steady pain, so as not to disturb the area she was marking. Kate’s fingers were warm against his cooling flesh. He watched as the tip of her tongue pressed against her shapely upper lip in concentration. She paused every few seconds to wipe the excess ink and blood off his skin and study her line.
Kate’s tattooing method was her own. The act wasn’t masterful, but the result was precise and that was all that counted. Beads of sweat marked her brow. Slowly the design of a long-dead rune took form. Compared to his old tattoos, this symbol was relatively simplistic. But she might have been weaving the Bayeux tapestry for all the concentration that Kate was forced to expend on it. It was the same symbol that had been used on the bow of the golden key, a rune created by Simon’s father. He had long thought the emblem to be a stylized compass, but he wondered now if it was a rising sun. Hopefully not a setting sun.
Minute after minute crawled by. Simon’s chest grew numb so he no longer felt the jabs of the needle. Kate blinked constantly, growing fatigued from the focused strain. Penny stood close to Kate, watching with great interest, studying technique more than product. Nick paced before the French windows, occasionally glancing up but preferring to stare at the floor. Malcolm stood quiet and motionless, never removing his eyes from the arcane activity.
Kate hesitated, holding the needle above Simon’s skin. He looked up, but before he could ask her what was wrong, she jabbed down as if in punctuation. With a whisper that could have been a word, the arcane ink sank into Simon’s skin. He gasped hard as his blood burned. The outline of the tattoo glowed a vivid green as if there were a light source behind it.
Just as abruptly, Kate’s tools dropped from her fingers. Her breathing sharpened into short gulps. She leaned dizzily over him.
“Kate!” Simon half rose off the table, his hands grabbing her forearms before she tilted to the side.
“I wasn’t expecting it to hit me so fast,” Kate muttered, holding a hand to her head.
The house suddenly shook. Penny and Nick were thrown to the floor. Glassware rattled.
Malcolm rushed across the laboratory and took hold of Kate. Simon leapt off the table and together they laid her there. The Scotsman looked at Simon with dread in his gaze. “Can you help her?”
Hogarth appeared in the doorway and started to speak, but the sight of Kate’s supine form stopped him.
Trying to keep the dread from his face, Simon said grimly, “She is fine, Hogarth. What’s the matter?”
With his gaze locked on Kate, the manservant said with unnerving calm, “We have a situation.”
Simon turned to Malcolm. “Go.”
“But you said—” Malcolm hesitated.
“I’ve my wits about me. I’ll make the right decision, if need be. Go. All of you.”
Malcolm nodded and ran out of the laboratory, with Penny and Nick on his heels. Hogarth paused, but then turned and headed for the front of the house.
Kate’s eyes rolled up in the back of her head and she slumped, insensible. Anger surged in Simon, fearing they had fallen into Ash’s trap. Even so, he would not lose Kate. He ripped open her bodice so her upper chest was bare right above her corseted breasts. He grabbed the ink bowl beside him, thrusting a finger in the mixture. He drew quick strokes on her with his dripping finger, writing the standard rune for desist. There was no reaction from Kate, neither did the burning of his blood abate. His inscription wasn’t working. He felt no connection to the aether.
Kate moaned again and Simon brushed the hair back from her face, desperate now. She trusted him to save her. If he couldn’t figure this out fast enough, he would drain Kate dry. He had to dam up the flow of energy between them.
He scribed another black rune across her pale flesh. The new word did nothing. Simon slammed a hand down onto the table. “Damn it!”
An explosion vibrated in the distance. Penny’s blunderbuss from the sound of it. He had no idea what they were facing outside, but if it was Gaios, they would need help from both him and Kate.
He blackened his finger again and once more drew over Kate’s flesh, this time inverting his father’s rune, a mirror opposite of his own. Her breathing grew even more shallow, her lips losing color.
Maybe he didn’t have enough aether yet. But there was no time. It could take hours, days even. Kate had mere minutes. They should have known better than to use blood magic. He should have known better. Blood spells were insidious and—
Then he knew. He rushed for another table and grabbed a scalpel. Without hesitation, he sliced into his open palm, carving an inverted version of his father’s rune. Blood dripped bold red to the floor. Then he turned back to Kate and slapped his hand right above her left breast beneath her collarbone.
Kate arched off the table, crying out. Simon held her down through the spasm. She took a last deep gasp and collapsed. He desperately sought for the rise and fall of her chest under his hand. Several seconds passed with no further breaths. Simon grabbed the blade again, his thoughts plunging dark. Turning the blade inward, he looked back at Kate, memorizing her face.
Her eyelashes fluttered and at last she took a breath, normal and gentle as if she were just waking from a distant dream. The scalpel dropped to the floor with a clatter as he gathered her in his arms.
“Kate!”
She opened her eyes. “Simon. You’re all right.”
He clutched her tight and in her surprise she held him, her hand cupping the back of his head as it pressed against her neck.
“I knew you would save me,” she whispered.
He couldn’t answer her, the state of his voice was precarious. She was alive, that was all that mattered.
“Your powers? Have they returned?” Kate pushed him back, taking in his torso, blank but for the single tattoo over his heart. Frantic hope filled her. “Please tell me this wasn’t all in vain.”
“I don’t know. I feel different. My blood feels like it’s on fire, but I can’t command the aether.”
“Then how did you—?” It was then she noticed the state of her undress and the runic patterns of ink and blood smeared across her chest. “Oh!”
“It was my blood that halted the flow of energy passing between us.”
Just over Kate’s heart, like Simon’s, an inverted rune was burned into her flesh. The skin was puckered and tight like a brand. It was then she noticed his hand dripping blood. She ripped what was left of her blouse and quickly tied it around his palm.
“Blood against blood,” she realized.
“More specifically your blood to begin and mine to end. It took me precious minutes to figure it out. I almost lost you in my folly. I am not familiar with the illogic of blood magic.”
The house shook violently again. Wide-eyed, Kate regarded him with questions.
“We have visitors,” Simon said.
“Jesus. You’d think I was running a bloody public house.” Her mouth quirked into a weary smile. “We need a holiday.”
“I know a spot by a stream in the Scottish Highlands near Fort Augustus,” Simon offered.
Kate’s eyes softened as she slid off the table. “It sounds lovely. I’ll meet you there when this is all over.” She retrieved a bandolier of vials and slung it over her bare shoulder. She lifted her special crossbow and snapped it open, ready for battle. “Shall we go greet our guests?”
—
Malcolm dodged a smashing blow by a mechanical arm. He fired his massive Lancasters, but the heavy balls merely bounced off the metal beast that rose before him. Hogarth’s mace slammed down against the steel limb, sending flakes of paint flying. That was the extent of the damage he did to the same mechanical monstrosity they had faced on Old London Bridge and which now crawled on its piston-driven legs over the ruined north gro
unds toward Hartley Hall.
“Where the hell is Penny?” Malcolm shouted. “This thing will tear us to pieces.”
In answer came a thunderous boom over their heads, and the front of the mecha blossomed into smoke and fire. It fell off balance, kicking up dirt and dust.
“Keep your kilt on,” the engineer yelled back, a bit out of breath and lugging her long brass blunderbuss. “I’m right here. Holy God, I need to make this gun more portable.”
Malcolm helped her bring the cannon back onto her shoulder and shoved another canister in. “Keep it away from the house.”
She fired the blunderbuss at the crawler’s undercarriage just as it propped itself up on its long arm, trying to get its flailing legs under it again. The blast knocked it face-first onto the gravel drive.
“Find Barker!” Malcolm yelled to Hogarth. “We need him.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And then go to Charlotte and keep her out of the fight. She’s still too weak.”
“Yes, sir.” Hogarth raced for the house.
“Look at you, giving orders.” Penny smirked.
“Just take that bloody thing down!”
“With pleasure. I loaded more powder in these canisters. I could take down a cathedral.” Penny let another canister fly. The blast sent both Malcolm and Penny to the ground as a wave of smoke and dirt rained down on them.
Nick appeared through the haze. He pulled Penny to her feet and stared at the metal monster. “Great. Just what we need. We fared so well against it last time.”
“Got anything more helpful than that?” growled Malcolm just as the machine lurched back to its feet. The mecha abruptly vented steam. The pistons in the legs contracted and it crouched on the ground like a huge elephant settling. Gears ground and numerous panels lifted and shifted aside along its abdomen.
“I don’t like this,” muttered Nick.
Things began falling from the body of the giant machine. Each one moved on spindly legs out of the way of other objects dropping behind it. They were the size of large cats, but resembled metal spiders with bulbous translucent abdomens of different colors.
The Conquering Dark Page 12
