The Labyrinth of the Dead
Page 14
"Imogen! Imogen, where are you?"
Nigel’s form drifted toward her in a weakly glimmering haze. He remained just inside the threshold of the tower. "Missing something, dear sister?" His smile was mocking.
"Tell me where she is!"
He shrugged. "How should I know? I thought you were her keeper, not I. Besides, the world is a frightening place, is it not? So dangerous and unpredictable. I think I’ll stay here in Salus, where it’s safe. For now. The door is open now, thanks to Imogen. If you ever see her again, do express to her my thanks."
One of the air force dirigibles began to descend, shining its light directly onto Portia. Commands were bellowed from one ship to another as they converged on the tower. She brought up one silvery wing to shield her eyes.
Nigel stepped back into the room, away from the oncoming ships. "I suppose I must thank you for this as well. As much as it is a burden to start all over again, I do so love a challenge, and no one was going to take me seriously using that little girl’s body, anyhow."
"Nigel!" Portia had only managed one stride toward him when the net fell. The sopping hemp was startlingly heavy. With the wet roping around her arms, swinging the axe was clumsy at best. She hacked furiously at it, nearly freeing herself before another fell, and another.
Nigel shook his head, feigning pity. "I’m so sorry, sister dear. But you’ll be all right, you’re a tough lass. Oh, by the way, I hear this place has a wonderful library," he said conversationally, "and there is a volume I have been after for quite some time. I think I might have to go take a look. I have so many plans."
"Come out here! Come out here and face me!" She struggled against the wet ropes that bound her and they grew tighter as she fought.
"No, I’m afraid not. I am not coming out until I have done a bit of research. I can’t set foot over this threshold like you can. The living world is a bit precarious for a soul that has no body. Just ask Imogen." He craned his neck forward and made as if to peer out onto the balcony. "Imogen? Oh, where has she gotten to? She was here just a moment ago! Ah, well. Say, sister-sweet, would you care to join me in the library? I suppose not. You’re a bit…tied up I see." He laughed at his own joke and shook his head at her once more. "Oh, Portia, my dearest love, what would I do without you? I know we’ll meet again soon. In fact, I have no doubt. But for now, sweet sister, I must bid you farewell. Farewell." He inclined his head and disappeared into the stairwell, his unhappy specters trailing in his wake.
"No! Stop!" She managed to wriggle her left arm free and snatched at the air between them, losing her grip on the axe. It fell to the floor of the balcony only inches from her hand, but where she could not reach it. "You don’t know what you’re doing," she screamed up to the airships. "I am one of you! He’s the threat! Let me go!"
Portia hesitated to unleash her power upon them, the innocent humans. They hauled her up like a fish-laden catch, upending her in the process. Portia watched the tower fall away as they dragged her into the dirigible’s cabin, listening to them pray and curse in equal measure. Her wings, she realized, were still there. And so were her fathomless golden eyes.
The airship crew stumbled back away from each other at the sight of her. They poked and prodded and swore. Portia kindled her fire to give them a scare, nothing more, but an icy gas clamped down upon her, rendering her numb and breathless. She could not summon the slightest strength to fight them off.
Sighing, she let them bind her ankles and wrists before they cut her free of the nets. Their terrified faces surrounded her, and she could see their fears hovering over their shoulders like birds of prey. Their words fell one over the others’, some praying to her, some praying because of her.
"Blessed be God in Heaven," one man said, striking his fist to his chest. "A real bloody angel." His face, flushed with emotion, was the last thing Portia saw before he dropped a burlap coffee sack over her head. "We’ll be living high on the hog when the circus finds out what we’ve got!"
* * * *
Not so far away from the rugged seashore that had sprouted a lone tower like a strange lighthouse made of opal was a field on the outskirts of Penemue.
In that field sat a ramshackle one-room cottage, the occupants of which had held a long vigil over the body of Imogen, lying within the white circle painted on the floor. They watched the door at the far end of the circle and did not speak above a whisper, always listening for a sign that Portia had been successful and returned home to the realm of the living. Captain Cadmus Gyony left his post only to sleep for three hours each night. Lady Claire Aldias simply napped at her desk. The others came and went like clockwork, taking shift after shift for days on end.
They were understandably surprised when Imogen suddenly opened her strangely dark eyes with a loud gasp and sat up, her pulse throbbing in her throat for the first time in many long years.
Acknowledgments
AS ALWAYS, this book was not born of stardust in a vacuum. I’d like to thank Crema Coffee in Nashville for their patience and for that last stool at the window where my shapely behind lives during deadline season. They keep me calm, caffeinated and inspired.
Also, my fabulous beta team: Ferrett, Julia, Elizalis, Kat, Catt, David, and Ailsa. And of course, Jason Sizemore, who despite a few early, rocky reviews of book one, kept the faith and kept me sane going into book two. And I can’t forget my amazing editrix, Deb Taber, slayer of passive voice with the magical ability to find the gold under any amount of dross.
I’d like to thank Melissa Gay, a queen among amazing artists, for her tireless and heartfelt devotion to the series, producing such perfect images that I swear she picked them straight out of my brain!
I appreciate all the conventions that allow me to come and talk about my work, the retweeters and Facebook likers, and all of you out there that buy books, read them, and then tell all your friends. I’d be nothing without y’all!
And last but not least, I’d like to thank the illustrious and talented Cherie Priest for her support of the series, including her blurb on the cover of this book. She has a tight schedule and I am so pleased that she was able to find some time to read through my work, and extra happy that she loved it!
Bios
SARA M. HARVEY made her fiction debut in 2006 with the romantic urban fantasy A Year and a Day. In 2009, her dark fantasy, The Convent of the Pure, was published—the first in a novella trilogy set in a Steampunk universe.
Sara is also a costumer and works as an assistant costume designer, an instructor in costume and fashion design, as well as a contributor to costume history textbooks. She lives in Nashville, TN with her husband and fellow author, Matt, and their dogs, Guinevere and Eowyn.
More information on Sara and her work can be found on her webpage, www.saramharvey.com.
* * * *
AS A longtime avid fan of the speculative fiction genre, MELISSA GAY is at her most relentlessly perky when illustrating science fiction, fantasy, horror, or role-playing games. Her work has been featured on numerous covers and in the interiors of works in these and other genres, including scientific botanical illustration. Her passion is creating poetry in sweeping lines, bold shadows, and intriguing details. She looks to the works of illustrators, painters, and comic book artists such as Arthur Rackham, Alphonse Mucha, Don Maitz, Bernie Wrightson, and Bryan Hitch for inspiration and education. She will noodle with a finished painting until someone forcibly takes it away from her. ("I’ve just got to move this one line over five microns, then I'll put the brush down, really! Hey, gimme that back!") She received a B.A. in painting from the University of the South at Sewanee, Tennessee, and currently lives in Nashville with her husband and son.
Visit Melissa at her website: www.melissagay.com.
Table of Contents
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
>
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Acknowledgments
Biographies