Bayou Moon te-2

by Ilona Andrews

  Cerise’s voice kept on, flat and steady, reading Vernard’s thoughts as he slid deeper and deeper into delirium. The Box was addictive, and the addiction came with a price. It unhinged Vernard’s mind.

  “ ‘I’m becoming violent. My moods, my rage are growing difficult to control. I screamed at Genevieve this morning when she brought us drinks. She had spilled my mug of tea. I didn’t mean to lash out, yet my body did it seemingly on its own, while I watched it act from the depths of my consciousness. It is as if I’m steering a boat with a broken rudder …

  “‘The remedy failed me. The toxin proved too potent …

  “ ‘ Too late. It’s too late for me.

  “‘Too late … Impatient. Too impatient. Too many visits to the red daze. Had I just waited another month, letting the remedy affect me, had I limited myself to three trips and no more … Had I, had I …

  “ ‘ Had I been a husband, had I been a father,

  “ ‘I shall die alone, abandoned by my lover,

  “ ‘Lay me down gently, I’ll go no farther,

  “ ‘Lay me down gently …

  “ ‘I found the pig dead in its pen. Its torn body was a mess of blood and bruises. I suspect the calf. I don’t like the way he looks at me.’ ”

  Cerise closed her eyes for a long moment and kept going.

  “ ‘Today, when I dumped the feed into the calf’s trough, it tried to ram me. I saw it coming, yellow eyes burning with a radiant hunger. It galloped to me, hooves striking a thudding battle hymn from the ground. It meant to kill me. I didn’t move. I couldn’t. I didn’t wish to. It reached me, and my body took over. I spun out of the way. My hands closed about its neck and tore into the flesh. Blood washed over my fingers. Its scent … oh, its scent, intoxicating and sickening. It took hold of me and rode me, and I could not escape its grasp.

  “‘I buried the calf. The rational part of me is horrified by the sight of the body, by its odor, by the taste of raw flesh on my tongue. But its voice is growing weak. The logical center of my being is fading. It leaves a ravening dog in its wake. And I have not the power to contain its rage. But she did fine. She did just fine. Only once and no more. My gift. My curse. My poor sweet E, carry it in you. I wanted so much for you and have given you so little. I’m just a selfish old man, tired and stupid, sitting on the shards of my tower. I fought against the forces of nature and was found wanting. I should’ve let it die, but couldn’t. I would beg for forgiveness, but I know you’ll have none to give. I love you. Gods, how hopelessly inadequate this simple proclamation feels.

  “ ‘The red daze is coming. It will claim me soon.

  “ ‘ I’ve hid it. Hid it where the fisherman waits.’ ”

  Cerise stopped. “This is the last coherent entry. On the next two pages he has written ‘poor Vernard’ over and over, and then it dissolves into scribbles.”

  She slumped in the chair, exhausted.

  William’s mind raced. That’s what Spider wanted. The Box.

  If the Hand’s freaks got cooked in the Box, they would come out more psychotic than they were before. They would regenerate their wounds in seconds, and they would kill and kill and kill, never stopping.

  Louisiana wanted a weapon against Adrianglia. This was it.

  Vernard never died. The thought dashed through his mind, illuminating the fractured pieces of the puzzle. Of course, Vernard never died. Not after that many trips to the Box. It would make him nearly indestructible.

  “This is the day the secrets get told,” Grandmother Az said.

  William looked up. She stood in the middle of the room, wizened and ancient as ever, and deep sadness pooled in her small dark eyes.

  “You’re awake,” Ignata said and rose to offer her chair. Grandmother Az ignored it. She stared at him, and William felt a pull of magic.

  “Tell them, child,” she said. “Tell them who you’ve seen in the woods.”

  “Vernard never died,” William said. “I’ve seen him. I fought him in the Mire.”

  “The monster? No.” Cerise shook her head. “No, it can’t be.”

  “He prowls the night,” Grandmother Az said. “He stayed away from the house for many years, but he’s come back. He knows something is wrong. He is a monster now, but some memories still linger. The thing he did, the unnatural thing, it changed him too much. The magic was too strong.”

  Silence fell, tense and charged, like the air before the storm.

  “Who is E?” Ignata said. “A was the cat, B was the pig, C was the calf. D was Vernard himself.”

  Kaldar rose. “The Box. It speeds up the healing, yes?”

  He crossed the room. A dagger flashed in his fingers. He took Cerise by the hand and glanced at her. She nodded. Kaldar cut at her forearm. Blood swelled. He wiped the crimson liquid off with his sleeve and raised her arm high. A thin line of red marked the wound but no more blood came.

  “Sweet little E,” he said. “I’ve wondered about that for years. She never got a cold. All of us would be down with flu or some other crud, but she would be up and chipper.”

  Cerise studied her arm as if it were a foreign object. “I don’t remember it. The Box. I don’t remember it at all.”

  “He probably sedated you,” Ignata said.

  “It would have to be a bloody strong sedation,” Murid said, “to dull that kind of pain.”

  Ignata frowned. “Do you remember the remedy?”

  Her mother grimaced. “Oh, please. It’s the redwort tea. During the last few weeks, he practically drowned her in it every chance he got. That’s probably the only reason she is sane now. That’s what the remedy does—it keeps you from going mad.”

  Richard’s clear voice filled the room. “The question is what we are going to do with the journal now.”

  WILLIAM tensed. His every instinct screamed in alarm.

  Faces turned to Richard.

  “We have the journal. It is too late for Genevieve, but not too late for Gustave. Cerise told me that he’s being held in Kasis.”

  Richard leaned forward. “The place is a fortress and the Earl of Kasis has a lot of guards at his disposal. Not only that, but the place itself sits on the border between Adrianglia and Louisiana in the Weird. It touches the Edge, but that’s about it. If we attack it, we’ll have people from both countries on our trail. But we must get Gustave back. We must at least try.”

  “Blackmail,” Kaldar said. “We trade Gustave for the journal. Spider will do anything to keep us from turning it over to the Adrianglians.”

  And it all went to shit. William bared his teeth.

  “Spider is too dangerous,” Erian said.

  “Screw Spider. That journal is monstrous!” Petunia’s voice cut him off. “It’s the product of an abnormal mind. Brilliant but abnormal. We must destroy it.”

  Kaldar gaped at her. “As long as we have the journal, we can get Gustave back.”

  She glared back. “William! How big was the creature you saw?”

  They all looked at him. The hair on the back of his neck rose under pressure. “Large. At least six hundred pounds.”

  Shock slapped the Mars’ faces. Even Cerise paused, frozen in an instant.

  Aunt Pete whirled to face Grandmother Az. “That’s about right, isn’t it?”

  Grandmother nodded.

  Pete’s stare pinned Kaldar like a dagger. “So, ask yourself, nephew, do you really want to hand that monster-making blueprint to the world in exchange for one life?”

  “It’s not our problem,” Erian said. “Why are all of you ignoring me? It’s not our problem!”

  Mikita shook his head. “It is our problem. We are the Mars. It was made by our in-law on the land that’s now in our family. We are responsible.”

  Aunt Pete stomped her foot. “There is a bigger responsibility here. Human responsibility. Vernard knew enough to hide this thing—mad as he was, he locked it away and hid it from humanity. It’s not right to let this knowledge out!”

  Kaldar threw his arms out. “Who
the hell cares if the Weird’s nobles kill each other? What did they ever do for us?”

  “What he says does have some merit.” Richard drummed his fingers on the desk.

  Aunt Pete studied him as if he were an insect. “Who are you people?”

  William looked at the Mars and knew Aunt Pete would lose. They wanted Gustave back. They were family and family looked out for their own first. He looked at Cerise’s face, lit from within by hope. He remembered her head against his chest, how it felt to hold her, the smell of her hair, the hot, sweet taste of her mouth …

  “We can arrange an exchange someplace public …” Kaldar said.

  William rose from his chair. “No.”

  Cerise’s eyes found him.

  Kaldar frowned. “You said something, blueblood?”

  William ignored him. “Adrianglia and Louisiana are grinding against each other. They can’t afford to let the other side have any advantage. Once Spider learns that you’ve got the journal, he will try to wipe you out. Once Adrianglia learns that you have it, they will do the same.”

  He found Cerise’s gaze. “Listen to me. Everyone in this room will die. Everyone. They will kill you, they will murder your kids, they will burn your house, they will shoot your dogs. They will obliterate you. It would be as if you never existed.”

  “You seem very sure of that.” Richard’s quiet voice echoed through the silent room.

  William almost snarled. Because they will order me to do it.

  “Adrianglia doesn’t know about the journal,” Erian said.

  “They will very shortly. Burn it. Burn the fucking journal and never speak of it again.”

  Cerise was looking at him. There was something in her eyes, suspicion, hurt, anger, he couldn’t tell. Whatever it was, it reached deep down into his chest and jerked at his heart.

  If he told her the whole truth now, if he told her about the Mirror, he would lose her. But if he could make her understand, she would live.

  “How will Adrianglia know about the journal, William?” she asked, her voice very soft.

  The wild howled and screamed inside him. No! Shut up. Shut the hell up. Don’t lose the woman!

  “Last night I used a drone bug to send the complete report to Zeke Wallace,” William told her.

  The room shrank to the two of them. He was ice calm. There was no going back.

  “You’re not a bounty hunter,” she said.

  “No.”

  “Is Adrianglia paying you to kill Spider?” she asked.

  “No. They don’t mind if I kill him, but I’m not here for him. I’m here for the Box and the journal. That’s what the Mirror wants, and they will order me to slaughter the lot of you to get it.”

  “You lied to me.”

  “I meant the rest of it,” he snarled. “Wolves mate for life and you’re my mate.”

  “Wolf?” Erian jumped off his chair. “William Wolf? The one the freaks are so scared of? And you brought William Wolf into the family? Are you out of your mind? He’s a fucking changeling.”

  William bared his teeth.

  Erian caught himself but it was too late. Cerise was staring at him, half-risen from her chair, her face bloodless.

  “Erian,” she said.

  Erian stumbled backward, looking lost.

  “It was you.” Cerise’s voice brimmed with pain. “You sold my father and mother to the Hand.”

  “My own brother.” Richard’s face contorted and for a moment he couldn’t speak. The desk creaked under the pressure of his white-knuckled hands. “Why?”

  “Because somebody had to,” Erian snarled. His hands shook. “Because neither you nor that fucking waste of space that’s our other brother would do anything. I saw our father die. I remember everything: the shot, the blood, the look in his eyes, everything! You know what Gustave told me at the funeral? He told me, ‘You will get your revenge.’ I waited for revenge. Years I waited, but he didn’t give a fuck about it, oh no, he was happy squatting in this house, our father’s house, letting his spoiled brat daughter run the place. He would’ve grown fat and happy, while our father rotted in the ground. Every year I came to him, and every year he told me, ‘It’s not time, Erian. We can’t afford a feud right now.’ It would never be time, so yes, I fucking did it. I gave the Sheeriles an edge. I gift-wrapped Gustave for them, because if he stayed here, the feud would never end. Now the Sheeriles are dead. Our father is watching from above and he’s happy, Richard. You hear me? He is happy!”

  Richard’s face turned white. “I must kill you,” he said very calmly. “Somebody give me a sword.”

  Cerise rose. “Uncle Hugh and Mikita, take Erian out. Lock him in the north building. Make sure he can’t hurt himself.”

  Erian bared his teeth. Hugh hit him on the back of the head. Erian’s eyes rolled back in their orbits, and he sagged down in Mikita’s arms. They carried him from the room.

  Cerise turned to William.

  “If you bargain for the journal, you will die,” he said. “If you go to fight Spider, you will die, too. Don’t. Don’t do it.”

  “I don’t have a choice,” she said. “I can’t live knowing that I had a chance to keep thousands of people from dying and I did nothing.”

  CERISE clenched her teeth. Her heart pounded in her chest. Her mouth tasted bitter. Erian. Of all people, it had to be Erian.

  Her legs had turned to wet cotton. Her chest constricted. She wanted to bend over and cradle the hot knot of pain in the pit of her stomach, but the entire family was here, watching her, waiting to see what she would say, and she held it in.

  William stood alone, in the middle of the room, his face pale. She looked into his eyes and saw it all: pain, grief, fury, fear, and resignation. He thought she would leave him. Why not, everybody else in his life did.

  “You’re a Mirror spy?” she asked softly.

  “Yes.” His voice was low and ragged.

  She sighed. “I wish you had mentioned it earlier.”

  It took a second to penetrate. Amber rolled over his eyes. Shock slapped his face. It lasted only a moment, but the relief in his eyes was so obvious, it filled her with anger. Anger at the monsters who had damaged him, anger at Erian, anger at the Hand … Her hands shook, and she clenched them together.

  “I love you,” she told him. “When I asked you to stay with me, I meant it.”

  “He’s a changeling,” someone said from the back.

  Cerise turned in the direction of the voice. Nobody owned up. “I’ve managed the family’s money for the last three years. I know all of your dirty secrets. Think very carefully before you start throwing rocks at the man I love, because I will throw them back and I won’t miss.”

  Silence answered her.

  “Okay, then,” she said. “Glad we got that settled. Why don’t you talk between yourselves.” She turned and marched out on the balcony and walked away, around the corner, out of their sight.

  Outside the heat of the swamp enveloped her and she exhaled. Tears wet her eyes and ran down her cheeks. She tried to wipe them off, but they just kept coming and coming, and she couldn’t stop.

  William came around the corner and grabbed her.

  She stuck her face into his chest and squeezed her eyes shut, trying to stop the tears.

  He clenched her to him.

  “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me,” she whispered. “I asked you point-blank back in the swamp, and you didn’t tell me.”

  “You would never have let me come with you,” he said.

  “We’re trapped,” she whispered. “I just want to be happy, William. I want to be with you and I don’t want anybody to die, and I can’t have that.”

  He gripped her shoulders, pushing her away so he could look in her face. His eyes were driven. “Burn the journal, Cerise. Listen to me, damn you!”

  “Too late,” she told him. “You know it’s too late. The Hand will come for us, if not now, then in a week or a month. You said it yourself: they can’t afford to let any
of us live. And even if they did, if they use the Box, it won’t just mean war. It will mean the end of the world in the Weird, because they will make these creatures and then they won’t be able to control them.”

  “Let me handle it,” he told her.

  “Twenty agents against you alone? Are you out of your mind?” She wiped her tears with the back of her sleeve. “If I offered to go up against twenty agents, you would pitch a fit. We have no choice.”

  He hugged her, his hands stroking her hair. They stood together for a long time. Eventually, she stirred. “I have to go back. It won’t be okay, will it?”

  William swallowed. “No.”

  “That’s what I thought,” she said. She turned around and went back to the library.

  Inside familiar faces waited for her. Aunt Pete, Aunt Murid, Ignata, Kaldar. Grandmother Az sitting in a corner, letting her run the family into the ground. Cerise sat at the table and braided the fingers of her hands together. Gods, she wished for guidance. But the person in the sky, the one she always asked for advice, was apparently running around in the woods, killing things at random.

  Her grandfather had murdered her grandmother. If she thought about it too long, it made her want to rip her hair out.

  Richard was off, too, gone to blow off steam.

  Who am I kidding? she wondered. Richard would never be all right. None of them would ever be all right.

  “It has to be the Drowned Dog Puddle,” she said. They went to gather berries there every year to make the wine. It was a big family affair: children gathered the berries, women cleaned them, men talked … “What else could it be?”

  Murid said, “Nothing else. Vernard didn’t know anything else.”

  The question had to be asked and so she asked it. “What do we do now?”

  “What do you want us to do?” Murid’s clear eyes found her, propped her up like a crutch. “You are in charge. You lead and we follow.”

  Nobody disputed her words. Cerise had expected them to. “We must destroy the Box.”

  “Or die trying,” Kaldar said.

  Aunt Pete shook her head. “We all benefited from Vernard’s knowledge. We studied his books, we learned from him, we made wine together. He was family.”