Seventh Born

by Monica Sanz

  Mary turned away quickly and rushed up the stairs. “You’ll think me mad if I say it.”

  A cold sweat sprouted along Sera’s brows. There was no way Mary could suspect anything…

  “Say it anyway,” she pressed, trailing her up the tower stairs and into her room. “And let me be the judge.”

  Mary fell back on Sera’s bed and let out a breath.

  Sera’s eyes narrowed, her fear of Mary suspecting a relationship between her and Barrington giving way to another suspicion. One that made her stomach a little sick as she hoped against it. She knew Mary’s sigh—the dreamy, infatuation sigh. She’d heard it for the past year whenever Mary thought or spoke of Timothy. “Mary…”

  Her friend rose onto her elbows. “I just think he would make a good candidate is all.”

  Sera slid off her cloak. “Who is he, and what is he a good candidate for?”

  “Professor Barrington.” Mary hid her face with her hands. “For marriage.”

  Sera opened her mouth and closed it, the cloak nearly falling from her hands. She’d suspected it, but…but this was…

  “Mary, no.”

  “What?” She sat up. “Don’t look at me that way. He’s very handsome, if you look past that constant scowl. And think of it. He’s unattached, wealthy, and in spite of some gossip about his family some years back, he’s the perfect match.” She sighed and blushed again. “Did you notice his eyes when he glared at you for bumping into him?”

  “He bumped into me.”

  “Such a lovely shade of gray,” she went on. “Oh, and a voice that commands attention. You know, I’m beginning to think it rather good that things with Timothy didn’t work out. I think Mother would be proud. He may not be a Delacort, but an Academy professor is nothing to scoff at.”

  Sera blinked. She couldn’t be hearing this. “He’s the last man I would consider a good match. He seems moody and reserved. You’re a ray of sunshine. He’s a gloomy, annoying, humid night where it won’t stop raining and your hair frizzes.”

  “I don’t think it’s moodiness. He’s lonely. Besides”—Mary grinned—“I don’t mind the night or the rain.” She giggled. “Oh, this will be fantastic! And maybe, if I can charm him before the end of the year, I can convince him to sign your referral papers. Think of it, Sera!”

  She swept from the bed and rushed to the door. “I’m going to see if he’s still in the library. Wish me luck!” She closed the door behind her before the last word was said.

  “Good luck,” Sera murmured. She would need it with a man like Barrington. “Voice that commands attention—ha! Your notes are in your book,” she mocked him and paused. “I had no notes…”

  Sera gasped and opened her books quickly to find some of Barrington’s notes and, between them, a letter. She smiled.

  She tore open the envelope and slipped out the cream-colored note.

  8:00 tonight.

  …

  He was waiting in his office when she arrived, her veiled hat in his hands. “Miss Dovetail, we leave right away. We’ve much to do tonight.” He handed her the hat and gloves and strode downstairs, his speed that of a man with a fire lit beneath him.

  She followed the professor to where Lucas held open the carriage door.

  He tipped his hat. “Welcome back, miss.”

  She smiled. “Wonderful to be back.” And it truly was.

  Barrington held out his hand to her and helped her onto the carriage steps, when suddenly his fingers tensed upon hers. Sera turned and startled; with her standing on the stair, they were now face to face, his light gray eyes boring directly into hers. Though wearing gloves, the pressure of his hand enclosing hers flared a wave of warmth through her, a rival to the bitter cold howling around them. For a moment, he didn’t speak, his silence laced by the same strangeness she had felt in his office when taking their new oath, a thin line that on one side was their partnership and the other a thrilling yet terrifying unknown.

  “I should have asked this before, but are you certain you feel well enough to venture out tonight?” he said, his voice a low rumble between them. Sera wished to answer but couldn’t help but wonder if Barrington realized he still held her. More, was the worry in his eyes a figment of her mind or did he truly care, staring at her as though with one word he’d sweep her back into the safety of his home?

  She pushed the thoughts to the back of her mind. Surely he was just being polite and her mind misconstrued it, the thrill of being back at work and at his side again skewing her judgment. “Yes, I’m perfectly fine, Professor. I won’t let the Brotherhood scare me.”

  A small smile touched the left side of his mouth. “Glad to hear it.”

  He helped her into the carriage. She sat in her usual corner, Barrington diagonal from her. Lucas closed the door and, in moments, they were on their way. Nerves rattled her insides, and Sera let out a trembling breath.

  “Cold?” Barrington reached over and lifted the seat, securing her a brown blanket that she then wrapped about her shoulders.

  “Thank you. A pity one cannot light a fire in a carriage. Portable heat. Can you imagine it?”

  He smiled, but gazing out of his window to the gnarled trees and the darkness between them, his eyes grew distant. “Why fire?”

  “Why fire for heat?”

  “No, why fire for magic—your magic? Magic manifests itself as light or smoke typically, yet you always choose fire.”

  “I wouldn’t say I choose it, rather it has chosen me.” She shrugged. “I’ve always felt comforted by it. I dream of it sometimes—often. When I think of my life before Noah found me, all I see is a wall of flames, and I can’t break through it no matter how hard I try.”

  Barrington reached into his inner coat pocket and retrieved his notebook and pencil. “You have been trained before, of that I’m sure. Your ease in using wandless magic is impressive, save when your emotions get the best of you. The fact that you’re able to employ many spells without speaking or writing them tells me that you’re familiar with magic above that of an Academy witchling. Then there’s your run-in with the Barghest, and the binding-spell chamber. They all confirm my suspicions that you were trained by a very powerful magician. That will help in finding your family. I can seek out magicians who had students go missing, those capable of building intricate binding spells, and so forth. I’ll figure it all out,” he said in her silence.

  Sera smiled sadly. “Am I a case now, too, Professor?”

  He grinned over his notebook, a slight arch of his lips and crinkles at the sides of his eyes. “My most difficult puzzle yet.”

  Sometime later, the city came into view, stained in ash and soot. Dwellings crowded the skyline and a bell tower rose above them all as if seeking out the fresh air above, but the dark sky was gloomy and the air thick with lingering smoke. Lucas weaved the carriage through numerous narrow, empty streets that vanished into a thick smog soon after they’d passed them. Not that Sera minded. The dwellings were squalid and dilapidated—and downright depressing. She released the curtain and settled back. An uneasy thought sprouted in her mind. She’d never considered that, perhaps, her family came from such a place.

  The scent of ocean soon met her nose, and harbor bells tolled in the distance. “We’re back by the pier?” she asked.

  The carriage rolled to a stop, and Barrington slid on his hat. “Not the same one. Miss Mills owns various establishments.” Sera stiffened, the thought of seeing Gummy again most disagreeable.

  Lucas opened the door. Barrington descended the carriage first and held a hand to her.

  “You wish for me to go with you?”

  “For a moment, yes. There’s something I need you to confirm.”

  She slipped her hand into his and stepped from the carriage. Barrington ushered her to the door where, like before, Gummy leaned against the frame of the establishment—Mayson’s, as opposed to Rosetta’s.

  She gave Sera a once-over, then grinned in Barrington’s direction. “Thought you’d chan
ged your mind.”

  “Of course not. Please take Miss Dovetail inside. I’ll be right in,” he said. His eyes met Sera’s, a firm look there that promised no danger would come to her. Sera nodded and accompanied Gummy inside while Barrington spoke to Lucas.

  A light mist of smoke shrouded the circular parlor, scented almost too sweetly of vanilla, as though to mask another smell. A shiver rustled Sera’s frame, the coldness of the space lending itself to her morbid deduction that it was Death they sought to hide. Portraits of naked women lounging on settees hung in gold frames along the maroon walls. The women strewn about the room were not much different, dressed in sheer robes with next to nothing at all underneath. Women whom, upon closer inspection, were all pale and beautiful. There was something about them she couldn’t quite place. The men they enamored wore dazed, unfocused expressions, their frames gaunt and tired as though their lives had been sucked out of them.

  One man by the bar sauntered over, a lazy smile on his thin lips. “What’s this, Gumm-o? You didn’t tell us you had a new one.” He tilted his head and appraised Sera slowly. “Ain’t been used too much, I see. I can help with that.” He reached for Sera’s arm.

  She jerked it back. “Remove yourself from before us, sir, or I’ll remove your hand from your arm. The choice is yours.”

  “Ah, fiery.” He grinned. “I’ll be sure to teach you how to talk to a man, among other things.” He made to reach for her again, but Barrington appeared and clutched the man’s arm.

  “Is there a problem here?” His gaze was fierce under his top hat, a look Sera would never want to be on the other end of.

  Gummy swayed before the man. Breasts pressed against his chest, she trailed a hand along his jaw. The other she used to pull his arm from Barrington’s hold.

  “Come now, Tobias,” she purred, her lips brushing against his with each word. “I suggest you listen to her, or the gentleman she’s with will surely remove your arm altogether. Now, why don’t you go find one of my girls?” She patted his cheek like a puppy and, as such, he walked away with no further argument.

  Gummy smiled over her shoulder and winked. “Nothing beats a little womanly persuasion.”

  “I’m sure,” Sera muttered. A hand came onto her lower back. She jumped and made to turn, but Barrington kept her fixed, his hand splayed there. He nodded once, and she knew his hand at her back was a sign to all that she was, for all intents and purposes, spoken for. She followed behind Gummy, thanking the heavens for her veil that hid her fierce blush.

  They went out the back door of the brothel. Just across a gated alleyway was another building, a one-story gray edifice with no windows and a burly man at the entrance. He stepped aside and inclined his head.

  “Gummy, Professor, Miss.”

  Barrington patted the man’s shoulder in passing. “Good to see you again, Brutus.”

  Sera nodded her hello, glad to be in Barrington’s company. Brutus didn’t look like a man you crossed, his frame double Barrington’s size. A white sleeveless shirt revealed boulder-like muscles, an anchor tattoo on one arm, and a scantily clad woman on the other.

  Once inside, they encountered another room, this one shielded by a thick velvet curtain. Through a narrow slit, Sera saw it to be more of a storage area. Long boxes and crates were stacked throughout. They didn’t enter but walked beside the curtain to a flight of stairs.

  “Your friend is this way.” The rickety stairs squeaked under their weight as Gummy led them down and into the damp basement. There was one room in the open space, crates stacked along the walls. The door to the room was closed and another muscular man stood before it, taller than the last.

  Gummy stopped short before him and turned. “Whether this is the man or not, our deal still stands, Barry.”

  “Barrington,” he said, “and yes, it still stands. It will be ready by the end of the week.”

  She pursed her lips and nodded over her shoulder. The guard turned the knob and opened the door. A man sat in the middle of the dark room, gagged and bound to a chair under the halo of a single hanging lantern. He lifted his face, and a chill washed down Sera’s body, comingled with a furious wave of heat.

  “I take it that’s one of the men from the forest,” Barrington confirmed. She nodded, her hands tense. Half of her wished to reach for her wand and set him on fire, the other half warred for control, knowing this man had answers they needed.

  Barrington cleared his throat and closed the door, cutting off her view of him. A different air swept over him, an eerie calmness as he put his hand on her back once more and ushered her upstairs.

  “What are you doing?” she asked as Brutus opened the door and Barrington guided them out. “Aren’t we going to question him?”

  Without a word, he marched forward, steering them back through the brothel and outside to the carriage. Sera stopped short and snatched herself away. “We can’t leave. It was him. I’m sure of it. He was there.”

  Barrington jerked open the carriage door, his mouth set hard and frame rigid. “We aren’t leaving, Miss Dovetail. I will question him while you stay here with Lucas.”

  “I’m not staying behind. I have as much right to be in there as you.” He spun to leave, but she gripped his arm and stayed his retreat. “You promised there would be no secrets between us, and yet you ask me to stay here? Why can’t I be there when you question him?”

  “You can.” He turned steeled eyes down at her, a piercing vulnerability there. “But I fear you will no longer see me in the same light if you do.”

  She lowered her hand from his arm, all words caught in her throat. Before she could ask why, he strode inside and vanished into the smoke.

  …

  Lucas opened the carriage door, and Barrington entered. Part of Sera wished to interrogate him the moment he settled in, but violence radiated from his frame, his demeanor tense and stiff. His cloak was off-kilter, his shirt peeking out from beneath his vest, and his hair tousled and wild. A handkerchief was wrapped tightly around his hand, dots of blood staining the fabric. Sera swallowed her questions, unable to find the courage to speak them. Not to this Barrington. This wild and fallen man was not her Barrington.

  He rested back against the seat slowly—too slowly—then lowered the curtain and didn’t say a word. He acted as if she wasn’t there. As if she didn’t exist. But Sera realized, he didn’t even see her. Caught in his mind, he focused straight ahead, staring at nothing at all, his fists clenched tightly on his lap and his breaths eerily measured, as though he sought to force himself back to normal. Back from the beast she knew had emerged the moment he’d left her.

  A sick feeling overcame her, and she curled into herself. Whatever happened in that room was not a part of him he wished for her to see. Mindful of the changes in him, of the blood that stained his cuffs, Sera was half glad she hadn’t.

  Still, she slid from her seat and moved beside him. He’d been there for her when she hurt the Barghest, and now she would be here for him, too. She reached out and took hold of his hand. Barrington flinched, turning a feral gaze to Sera, and made to snatch back his hand, but she held it firm and met his look measure for measure.

  After a moment, awareness washed over his stare, as if he finally realized it was she who touched him. He averted his stare but didn’t fight her as she lifted one flap of the white fabric, then another. Pain twisted her heart, but she forced any reaction from her face as she beheld the cuts that split open the skin above his knuckles. He hadn’t used magic to hurt the Brother, but his bare fists. Striking him over and over again.

  Setting the blood-stained handkerchief aside, she slid her fingers over the wounds and closed her eyes. Having never taken her Water-level courses, all she knew of the healing art was what she’d learned from books and Mary. She never mastered healing gashes but did learn to soothe pain. Recalling these teachings, she cleared her mind of all thoughts and focused on comfort and healing. Instantly her magic took on a different feeling, a gentle warmth coursing through he
r veins. She guided it down to her fingers, and soon a cloud hovered over Barrington’s hand, then was absorbed into his skin.

  She slid her hand away. “I never learned to heal,” she said softly, “but I hope it doesn’t hurt you anymore.”

  Barrington looked at her, eyes still wild, but Sera noticed undercurrents of shame in his stare. He shook his head.

  “Good.” She folded the handkerchief back over his knuckles, moved across to her seat, and they spoke not a word about what happened.

  22

  the next man

  The carriage stopped once more. Sera moved the curtains aside, confused, the ride much shorter than she’d remembered it. They weren’t back at the manor but at an indistinguishable townhouse among a row of identical houses. She turned to Barrington, who had since relaxed, though he was still pale.

  “What is this place?” she asked.

  Lucas opened the door.

  “It’s where the men who hurt you were staying. The Brother we caught said they were all gone, but I suspect they fled in a hurry and may have left some evidence behind. I’ll make sure all is clear and then signal for you.” Barrington descended and, drawing his wand, eased the front door open and vanished inside.

  Hands held tightly around the wand in her lap, Sera moved to the edge of her seat, her eyes fixed on the house through a part in the curtains. To ease her nerves, she opted to count the windows. There were four along the first floor, two whose curtains were half closed. On the second floor were three, a smaller one in the middle. Professor Barrington’s figure came into view then, his light illuminating the first-floor room. He paced around the quarters and then exited. The window fell into darkness once more.

  Sera blew out a breath. At any moment he would signal for her and they would investigate the scene. She bit her lip, hoping she could once again prove useful.

  He appeared again, on the second floor this time, when a figure in white brushed past a first-floor window. Sera sat up, a sense of wrongness settled in her belly. She pushed the carriage door open and jumped down.