Reaching forward, keeping her mind as deep in his as he’d allow, she touched the part of his jaw that he’d broken. She could see where it should go. Bracing herself, she moved it. The grating when she shifted the loose bone brought bile to her throat and nearly made her vomit. She’d more or less accustomed herself to the stench, but a trace remained at the back of her throat, inciting sickness every time she breathed. That meant she was fighting nausea on two fronts. Easy, compared to what he was suffering.
She found the place, like slotting a broken piece of china back into position before applying the rivets to mend it. He glanced at her and blinked slowly. Perfect. If you can hold it there for twenty minutes or so, that will give it time to begin to mend. It should be good as new in the morning.
What about the tooth?
That will have grown back.
Astonishing. Will that happen to me?
If necessary, but that will be after I kill the person who did it to you.
He surprised her into laughing. In this place, he could make her laugh. But her response set off a tidal wave of response. The person nearest them, a man by the look of his clothes, but she couldn’t be sure, cackled noisily, and that was picked up by someone else farther down the room.
Before a minute had passed, the whole room was laughing. Cackles, shrieks and unearthly ripples of laughter rent the air until unaccountable tears stung Aurelia’s eyes. These people are just here to die, aren’t they?
And provide amusement for the people who will come tomorrow at visiting hours. They like to view the mad, to laugh and taunt.
She let a tear fall before she blinked the rest away. One tear as tribute for all the suffering that went on here. She could feel it pressing on her like a blanket of grief. Are all the people insane?
Whatever insanity is. He let her further into his mind. As the clouds melted away, she saw it. A burning, raging centre of constant insanity. Diving into it would be so easy, and then she’d leave all her problems behind. He’d take her, absorb her, and she could forget everything else.
That was madness. Pure insanity, where the world was turned on its head and nothing meant what she thought it did. Reason had no place here. She moved closer to the burning heat, drawn by its tempting promises.
Abruptly it was blocked. The figure of a man stood before it, shielding her. No more. The fire shut off, as if a barrier dropped between her and it.
That’s inside you all the time?
Every minute. It’s the god inside me, the centre of his existence.
And you fight that?
Only when I’m sober. Not drinking. Later tonight I’ll let it loose.
I thought we were waiting for a day?
He glared at her grimly. I didn’t expect you to stay here. We will act later.
She knew she wouldn’t shift his decision. She’d prepared to stay longer, even try to sleep, but there was no need for sleep now. Or ever again. What happens if we don’t sleep?
Was that a chuckle? We grow very tired.
Her arms were getting tired too. She moved closer so she could rest her elbow on her upraised knees. That was better. But she could see into his eyes, into the lurking madness there. But behind that, lived the man she adored. She would never flinch from that core he’d given her a glimpse of. He fought that temptation every day of his life. She could only imagine how difficult that was, but she’d help him. Blend with him and share his burden.
Time ceased to have meaning and place. Left here long enough, a person would make their own time and place. Anything to escape the near unbearable reality of it. He shifted away, moving his head. Then to her shock, he shifted his jaw from side to side. “That will do.” Hearing his voice sent a shock through her.
“You’re better?”
“Improving. I won’t speak too much, though.” Better like this.
The man next to him moaned, and then with a clanking of chains made a sudden, convulsive move toward her. Yelping in alarm, she jerked back.
Swift as a night bird, Blaize moved, pushed her aside. He and the man faced each other, both sitting because the chains that fastened them didn’t allow for them to stand. Silently, in the middle of the noise, they stared. The man backed off, retreated. Whatever he’d seen in Blaize’s eyes had terrified him. He grabbed a tin mug that lay on the ground and gulped noisily. Aurelia had the feeling that he didn’t care what the vessel contained, he’d drink it anyway.
“You won’t be well enough.”
I’m healing fast. Come closer. Let me hold you.
Despite the fact that he’d picked up more than a little of the filth of this place, Aurelia did as he asked, more relieved than she cared to admit, even to herself, when his arms closed about her.
“You don’t seem mad,” she said, laying her head against his chest, letting herself sink into his blessed heat.
When I’m with you, I’m not. You keep me here. It’s not the same as when I was in the maze. She kept my mind befuddled. His thought patterns, the way he spoke, were becoming shorter, more staccato. He answered her thought before she had time to articulate it. It helps to think that way, in shorter bursts. He was leaving longer pauses between his sentences, too. An hour. No, two. It will be full dark and London will be at the height of its nightly revels.
Do you know where the dowager is? Deliberately Aurelia didn’t refer to her as her mother. She must distance herself from the woman now she’d made her choice and sided with the Olympians.
I know. D’Argento will follow her and ensure I know where she is. She decided to go to the theatre. When she emerges, before she arrives at Lady Dunstable’s ball, then I’ll have her.
You’re sure?
D’Argento will tell me if her plans change.
The messenger of the gods would have a stronger gift for communication, of course.
She settled in. She didn’t know how long they sat there or even if she dozed. If anyone had told her that she’d be able to sleep in this cacophony, she’d have laughed them to scorn, but here, in the haven of Blaize’s arms, she might have drifted a little. They talked quietly about nothing in particular, waiting for the time he had appointed for their leaving, and that heat, the central part of him that she glimpsed grew. She sensed it, but instead of turning away from the terrifying lack of reason and thought, she welcomed it. It was part of him, so it should be part of her, too.
Darkness fell, and the mutterings and shrieks going on around her almost became normal, but when he murmured to her, “It’s time,” she heard it above the weird keening of the man next to them. She looked up.
His eyes were wild. Not dark with passion, but precisely the opposite. The pupils had contracted into pinpoints, even in the gloom of this place, and they gleamed with a light of their own. She should find the sight terrifying, but she didn’t. This man was still Blaize. The glow she’d detected within him had grown and expanded. Anyone could detect it now.
“Stay with me,” he said. “Don’t stray from my side.”
She nodded. Dipping his head, he stole a quick kiss and gave her a swift grin. He seemed perfectly sane to her. Nobody had come, not to feed them nor to check on them. The inmates could kill each other for all the warders cared.
After setting her gently to one side, Blaize got to his feet, his wrist cuff falling away as if of no consequence. The heavy iron dropped with a clank. He spoke in a voice that, while effortless, sounded above the constant sound of other human voices.
“I have come to claim my kingdom and you, my subjects.” Slowly the sound ebbed away. Everyone stared at the only person in the place on his feet. Even Aurelia stayed sitting on the filthy floor.
By now they’d both become smeared with the dirt. It was inevitable. Blaize had torn his linen ruffles, once white, now grubby and creased. His blue coat was disreputable now, like something that had hung outside a clothes dealer’s for months before finding an unfortunate customer.
Light glimmered down from above, the dim light of a starlit night,
but Blaize drew light from his own source. It was impossible to ignore him and, once noticed, to look away.
“You are my children,” he said. “I will not ensure your safety, but if you come with me I’ll give you something you will never forget. That’s a promise. Who’s with me?”
A murmur, then a yell followed.
Blaize lifted his hand in a dramatic gesture. With a series of clanks and crashes, the padlocks fell away from the heavy chains and the inmates were free. They surged up toward him, but stopped short, leaving a couple of feet of space, where he stood with Aurelia by his side. She stood too and waited.
He curved his arm around her. “This is my queen. She has more than one name and she is sacred to you. You will protect her above all else, as will I.”
She’d never seen him smile that way. With a flash of sharp, white teeth, a broad grin that held more than a trace of devilish amusement. Shifting his attention, he focussed on the wall at the end of the large room. A blank wall, bare of ornament or even plaster, the bare bricks seeming to shiver under his gaze.
No optical trick, this. The bricks were shivering. As if an earthquake had struck south of the river, a wave of vibration she felt under her feet. But she wasn’t afraid. Blaize was causing this. One brick fell from its place, showing blackness behind, where the outer wall blocked the light.
Then the whole wall gave a convulsive shudder, as if giving up the fight to stay upright, and they tumbled, fell outwards. Not as if from an explosion, but a gradual tumbling, a structure giving way to a greater force. “Last time I repaired it,” he murmured, “but last time I wasn’t as angry as I am now.”
Without looking at her, he held out his hand and she took it. They climbed out of the fissure created by the fall of bricks and into the night air. As yet the stink hadn’t left her nostrils. It followed them out.
Blaize led them to the road that ran outside the asylum. Two big cats stood patiently waiting, and as Blaize approached, they gambolled toward him. Leopards. Terror clawed at Aurelia and she tugged his hand, but he led her forward firmly and lifted his free hand.
The spotted cat rubbed against it like a domestic animal.
“Where did they come from?” she asked.
He nodded to the river. “Probably the menagerie in the Tower. They know I’m here and they’re my animals. They’re safe as long as you’re with me. Come, touch.”
Gingerly she stretched out her hand and the other leopard pushed his head under her palm. The fur was rough but warm, and it vibrated as a low rumble emerged from the animal’s throat. Cupping the animal’s head with her palm, she felt the ears flatten. She took the hint and scratched. More purring.
“He likes me,” she said.
“Open your mind. Feel what they want.”
His soft voice cut through the noise going on around them. But he laughed then, much louder, and called out, “Follow me!”
They trailed after him, to the wine-merchants next to the river, where a row of barrels stood outside the premises. “D’Argento,” he said.
Everything was prepared for them, the barrels ready for the participants. “Are you drinking, then?”
“No, my love.”
He seemed completely sober to her, as if he’d been drinking all day. But when he turned to his followers, his gestures were expansive, his cries loud enough for everyone to hear.
With whoops and calls, they fell on the barrels, smashing them open, heedless of the wine that poured on the ground, until one or two bent to lap up the overflow. The rest were dipping their hands into the barrels, cupping them to scoop up everything they could.
Blaize stood back, watching them, not attempting to drink. Although she knew why, Aurelia found it hard to watch, but she saw no longing in his gaze, nothing that made her think he was denying himself something he wanted.
“It’s the cheap kind,” he said. “I prefer something a little better quality.” He sighed. “Once you develop a taste for the good stuff, there’s no going back.”
“Why aren’t the warders raising the alarm?” She’d expected someone to follow them, but so far nobody had bothered. The few people they’d met had scurried out of their way as quickly as they could. Either that or joined them. Revelry in its early stages was attractive, even when it was with mad people.
“They’re asleep,” Blaize said. “When my powers expanded, I stunned them.” He shrugged. “Easy.”
She could believe that. He still had tight hold of her hand and from time to time he glanced at her, his eyes ethereal, but he was still Blaize. More than ever before, power concentrating on him as it must to a god.
They must have around fifty followers. Bacchantes, if the legends held. They’d work themselves into a frenzy. While she knew the plan, she still found it hard to believe it was working and that there was a plan involving one of the things the average Londoner feared—a mob.
They could be hanged for inciting the mob. Which explained the disguises. Her hair hung in straggling rat-tails from her slumbers on the floor of the Incurables ward, and her face was smeared with dirt, as was Blaize’s.
“Come!” he called after all the barrels were broached and most of the wine drunk. “Time to go!”
Before the authorities blocked the bridges.
He led them, some dancing, all laughing, exchanging jokes and ribald comments, to the bridge. They used Westminster Bridge, new and convenient for crossing. Heedless of the carriages which were driving across, the group careered wildly across, darting from one side to the other, still laughing.
“We need instruments,” she said, and he laughed.
“We will find some,” he answered, and he was as good as his word. Wild laughter accompanied the comments. When they reached the other side, a few watchmen stood, staring openmouthed.
“Join us!” Blaize cried, and beckoned to them. They took one look at the big cats and backed off, even though the animals were doing nothing more than loping along at their sides, one by Blaize, the other by Aurelia. His queen.
With this man by her side, she felt like one.
They made their way up Whitehall, and some of the bacchantes obtained instruments. They appeared military. Perhaps they’d stolen them from one of the army stores. Their shrieks and yells were amplified when more joined them, snowballing now. But Blaize was at their centre, sometimes capering or singing, grinning like a loon, inciting them to run faster, dance harder.
“They must have their reward,” he said, grabbing both Aurelia’s hands and spinning around and around with her until she had to close her eyes against the dizziness.
But the mood had its effect on her too. Sharing Blaize’s heat, his burning godhead, she could scarcely avoid it. A savage joy filled her, making her laugh in turn, almost forgetting the purpose of this bacchanale, the first true one that London had seen.
Not the first frenzied mob, though. Mobs could be angry, wild or celebratory. This was a mixture of all three. People joined the tail, handed around bottles of wine or beer. Aurelia grabbed some, heedless of the mouths that had touched the neck of the bottle before, but Blaize snatched it from her and passed it on.
“You shall have your own,” he promised, and she did. He obtained a bottle, still sealed, and uncorked it for her. She kept hold of it and drank long. She’d never drunk like this before, but she felt strangely safe in the middle of the mob. As she’d said, the best place to be was the eye of the storm.
Although they were jostled occasionally, nobody pestered them. They whooped and whirled about Blaize and Aurelia. By now a few people had found some torches, and they held them high, the golden flares sending out signals to the night sky. More joined, so the number was more like eighty by the time they reached the top of Whitehall and passed St. James’s Palace. Not a reception night, so relatively quiet. Or perhaps Blaize and Aurelia could have entered in state and taken the thrones.
With their attendants, the bacchantes and the cats.
Exhilaration filled her when they passed the g
rand houses on the Strand. Most of the aristocracy had moved out a century ago, and the places were given up to more nefarious pursuits. At the moment they were mostly barring their doors and shivering behind them, if she was any judge. Word must have got around because the thoroughfare was strangely silent. They’d escaped Whitehall because they moved fast, but opposition would be growing. They’d have to hurry if they were to reach the theatre intact.
But at the moment, the celebration was at its height. More alcohol went around and Aurelia passed her half-empty bottle to someone else—she’d had enough. Blaize didn’t take it. Instead, his power grew. She felt it, the way it expanded and filled the space around them. The godhead. The part of him that had entered while he’d been a babe in the womb, the part he kept locked away for the most part. What a waste!
He glanced at her and she smiled at him, not hesitating, even though his wildness all but swamped any semblance of civilisation he’d retained. He seemed tireless, joyful. Terrifyingly amoral in the true sense of the word, because here morals had no place. Good and bad had no meaning, except for the quality of the wine.
She was losing her sense of right and wrong, or the edges of her firm world were blurring. Torches flared past her face and she laughed, leaned into them for the dare, because so what if they burned her? She’d heal soon enough. Blaize had grown a tooth back, for heaven’s sake!
But he dragged her back. “No pain, not for you.”
Oh yes, she’d forgotten about pain.
By now they’d nearly reached their destination and the yells and screams had become a roar. Fear touched her for a moment, then left without her having to dismiss it. Because they were close.
People were emerging from the Theatre Royal at Drury Lane. Word had obviously reached it and they were bolting for their homes. Or a safe place. Most of the establishments they passed were barred. Unusual for a part of London that was packed with whorehouses, shops and clubs. The mob rampaged through the narrow streets skirting Covent Garden.
“If we take them through the piazza, we’ll lose them,” he remarked, sounding saner than she felt, but the next moment he was laughing again, grabbing her hand and running, the animals racing by their side.
Mad for Love: Even Gods Fall in Love, Book 2 Page 25
